Fic - R - Clearly an Idiot (sequel)
Title: Clearly an Idiot - Part II
Original: Clearly an Idiot
Author: dacro
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R - Vampires, blood, lots of leather and bodies rubbing together
Disclaimer: HP world not mine. I just dressed them up as Goths and made them naughty.
Betas: dracofiend and irana Thanks guys! (All remaining flubs are mine)
Summary: Auror Potter and Weasley spend another night surrounded by smoke and pale patrons to gain the information they need to bring down a murderer.
Gift for: saladbats, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETIE!
Author's notes: This is a birthday fic for Saladbats, and also a little dedication to luciology. The two of them sent me a very funny e-mail a few weeks ago, begging for more Auror!Harry and nummy vampires. Now, how could I turn down a request like that? So, this is indeed the sequel to Clearly an Idiot, and I truly hope you all enjoy the continued adventures of our lust-distracted heroes. *grin*
Feedback and comments are always welcome. *biggest hugs*
ETA: Thanks to all of you who found the typos and pointed them out. *highfives*
Clearly an Idiot - Part II
I pull on the black boots that I hate, half-watching Potter drag a flat white box out of the Floo.
I should be home.
I should be blocking my bedroom door, begging my wife not to pack her bags with the intent of visiting her mother for a little while. My long day and late night work hours and half-hearted interest in our marriage has given her every reason to leave. To be honest, if I were in her place, I wouldn't stay either.
Instead, I'm readying myself to -once again - protect my libido-crazed, but successful, partner from an equally attractive, informative, and potentially dangerous vampire.
Minute by minute, I reconfirm my idiot status.
Harry unfolds the note that accompanies the parcel, and reads aloud.
"Potter. My apologies for the last minute gift, but the more I thought of our meeting tonight, the more I longed to see you in this outfit. There is no need (or room in the trousers) for your wand. D Malfoy. P.S. No need for Weasley either, but if you must, he will be wandless as well, or my information will stay locked away on my friendly tongue. P.P.S. Your snake is in the box. You may want to open it sooner than later."
I roll my eyes, as Harry rips open the box, and wonder if it's too late to save my marriage and find a replacement bodyguard for my single-minded partner.
Harry pulls the snake from the box and holds her close to his face, inspecting for any damage. He hisses in greeting when her tongue darts out to tickle his nose. I shake off the shivers that Parseltongue always causes.
"She's fine," he reports over his shoulder, bending to release her onto the warm hearthstone. "Happy to see me - angry with Malfoy. She says he's wearing snake skin trous…" he trails off, and then freezes, hands buried in tissue paper. "Oh!"
I take a step closer and glance down. He pulls well-worn green leather trousers slowly from the box, and holds them to his chest, as if they were sacred. My face heats uncomfortably when he buries his nose in the fabric and inhales.
"Damn, he's good," he whispers, rubbing the leather against his cheek and neck.
An image of Harry pressed against similar trousers the night before, suddenly sets off a choir of internal warning bells.
"No, Harry, definitely not. Send them back." He thrusts them out of my reach.
"The note says…"
I count to ten, breathing deeply. "The note says no wands. The outfit is a request, and not necessary for the exchange of information." He opens his mouth to protest, but I continue. "Wearing the same trousers you rutted against last night will not allow you to keep a clear mind, not to mention that accepting gifts from an undead suspect is highly unprofessional."
"I always get the job done, don't I?" he challenges, dropping the leather back into the box.
Fixing my tongue firmly between my teeth, I fight spewing out the long list of Harry's recent violations. He drops his battle glare when he notices my restraint. His hand cards through his recently-brushed hair.
"You're right. I can't lose control like I did last night, but the more I play his game, the more willing he is to offer up what we're looking for." He scratches absentmindedly at his neck, and adopts the humbled stance he knows always gets him what he wants from me.
"Look, we can cast the listening charm, and any others we need before we leave, and we'll have back-up on standby. I have an emergency Portkey for you." He finishes, handing me a silver Muggle flame-maker that I've seen all the club patrons carry.
I sigh, silently cursing my weak resolve, and nod towards the box. "Go on. You have five minutes to change your outfit."
His smile could melt ice. He scoops up the box and bounds out of the room like Christmas morning. I throw the Listening Charm after his retreating form, Floo call for Auror stand-by assistance, and remind myself to book an appointment with the least expensive head-healer I can find in the morning.
~*~
The Cave would be a comfortable temperature if I were a Hogwarts' greenhouse during the month of July. I will be properly pruned by the end of the evening if I remain a minute longer in my jacket, but thanks to Harry - or thanks to his hurry to meet with Malfoy - it's the one bit of protection against spells I have at my disposal, since there was only time enough to cast the shield charm over this single item before having to abandon my wand.
Since Malfoy already knows I'm here, Harry suggested I stay in plain view - somewhere near the dance floor - in case he had a 'temporary lapse in judgement'. I'm sandwiched in between the entrance to the stage, and what Harry calls the 'DJ'. Apparently the band has the night off and a thin man - arms covered in metal staples - is their replacement, playing music that is slightly more energetic than most clubs of this sort, and yet still somehow dark and depressing.
Harry looks up from where he's swaying and politely refuses another drink, this time from a very attractive redhead who - more than likely - lied about her age to get whatever it is that she's now drinking herself as she dances away, blushing through pale make-up.
The music changes to something fast and gritty, and Harry joins the others in thrusting their arms into the air. I have to grudgingly give silent points to Malfoy for choosing Harry's outfit. I wonder if he's hidden somewhere, watching the picture Harry's painting as he spins around in that clinging white t-shirt - a beacon in a sea of black.
I don't wait long for my answer.
I see the henchmen first and shiver with the memory of our meeting the night before. They're not hard to spot - a head taller than anyone else - as they plow a path through the jumping bodies, Malfoy's platinum hair appears as they part, just behind Harry, who is playing his game of pretending not to see the canyon that opens up around him.
Draco presses up from behind, his arms already snaking around Harry's chest by the time I try to reach for the wand that isn't there.
"You glow like an angel," Draco purrs into the space behind Harry's ear. One of Harry's arms is already lifting up and behind, fingers landing in blonde hair, urging Malfoy closer.
So much for remaining professional.
As if hearing my thoughts, Harry stiffens and spins away, trying to find the beat once more. His gaze sharpens quickly as he gets the first look at Draco's attire: dark-grey snake skin trousers, black boots similar to my own, and a tight black t-shirt with two pale yellow words across the middle of his chest - Go away.
A shadow crosses Draco's eyes. "I thought you came to play, Potter."
Harry covers with a near-convincing smile. "I came - for information - you know that."
Draco tilts his head, regarding Harry closely. "I think I liked you more last night." He steps out in time to the music and does a smooth spin-walk around Harry. "Are you sure that's the only reason you came back?" Completing his rotation, Draco glides a palm over the green leather covering Harry's bottom. "Would that be why you neglected to pull on pants under my trousers?"
A rapid white light begins to flash overhead. I can see the challenge in Malfoy's eyes, and the flush of Harry's cheeks. I promised him I wouldn't interfere, but my hand plunges into my pocket, ready to snatch up the summoning stone if Malfoy steps out of line.
An annoying voice somewhere in my thick skull reminds me of the implications of calling for help, and the pitiful reality of transfer once word gets out of our inability to get the job done. There's also the matter of our stupidity in agreeing to a wandless confrontation. Silent shame is better then public humiliation, I suppose.
Harry keeps his eyes to the floor and doesn't answer, nor does he remove Malfoy's wandering hand. They dance in silence for a while, the crowd of patrons still leaving a respectful distance around them, and around Draco's statue-like thugs.
"You certainly look good enough to eat, Potter." Draco's other hand joins the first just under the curve at the top of Harry's legs. He uses the grip to close the distance between them, and then attacks with a kiss.
Harry allows it for a second, then breaks away, attempting to calm himself by taking long slow breaths against the rapid pulse of the music and the insistent grip of Draco's hands. He lifts his eyes to meet Malfoy's once more.
"When does Lucius plan to use the Inferi?"
I am proud beyond words.
Malfoy smiles, and gives Harry's bottom a squeeze. "Oh, very good. Seems I gave you too many hints last time." He summons one of his body guards and orders a drink. He waves the other off in the direction of the booths.
I try to keep the comforting ridges of the proscenium at my back, in case they plan to ambush me again. The DJ lifts one side of his black-painted mouth at me.
Wonderful. I'm everyone's private joke.
"The Inferi…" Harry repeats.
"Are only to be employed if the primary plan fails," Draco says slowly, as if speaking to an impatient child.
He closes the distance to slide his tongue over parted lips. Harry moves forward, but then pauses and pulls back a fraction.
"What's the…"
Harry's question fades into the clamour of the club as Draco spins him around and molds himself to the back of Harry's t-shirt, fingers poised like talons at the glowing shoulders. His lips move again to Harry's ear, but Harry keeps perfectly still, as if he's just been hit with Petrificus.
"All give and very little take will not get you any closer to your goal, Harry. Not to mention it's no fun at all for me." His lips press a kiss into the damp skin underneath Harry's earlobe. The listening spell picks up Harry's sigh just before his eyelids fall.
"Why are you fighting me tonight, Potter?"
There's a strange thickness to Draco's voice, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Harry's body relaxes slightly with each shaky breath.
"Because I'm work- last night was - god, you smell wonderful. Chocolate..." Harry stammers breathily, his hands sliding behind him to touch Draco's thighs, eyes still closed tight.
I bite at my lip and pray Harry's only 'playing along', although my stomach tells me I'm fooling myself.
"One of the few benefits of my condition: irresistible pheromones." He sways them gently as the first non-pulsing song in nearly an hour rolls out of the speaker boxes.
"Wasn't this strong last night," Harry purrs, drowsily.
"I wasn't hungry last night."
My fingers twitch at my sides as my stomach drops. I mentally calculate how long it would take me to reach Harry. Even without the bulking obstacle of Malfoy's henchmen, I've never wrestled a vampire before, so there was a solid chance I wouldn't be able to break his hold on my pheromone-drunk partner.
The thug with the drink returns, hands it to Draco, then is dismissed once more. I decide to use the distraction to make my move.
Too late.
In a flash of silver, Malfoy's twins from last night appear on either side of me. My stomach sinks as I notice the dejectedly-abandoned way the female is staring back at Draco while out of the corner of my eye, the male is blowing something out of the palm of his hand.
The room goes black - Darkness Powder, I'm sure of it. I yell for Harry, but I know he can't hear me over the din. I reach for the wall and try to inch my way closer to the DJ, a more visible spot, in case Harry opens his eyes. His panting and Draco's voice are still clear in my ears, even though the powder has cut me off from them visually.
"Now, back to the game, Potter. What would you say to all of the information your heart desires, all at once?"
I quickly consider using the Portkey to take me to my wand, but leaving Harry, even for an instant causes an uncomfortable ache in my chest.
"You expect me to believe that you're serious?"
"Oh, most certainly."
"What's the catch?"
"In return, I get a bit of a snack. I didn't get enough of you last night."
My heart is too loud in my ears, thumping rhythmically like Fred and George at a Quidditch match.
"What if I say no?"
"Then you, and your freckled partner, will continue to stay in the dark."
He sees me now, I can feel it. I wave my hand over blank eyes, and now he knows.
"Percy can summon a dozen Aurors here in an instant, and have your father in custody a few minutes after that."
My hand slides into my jacket pocket, and two sets of hands close around my elbows - too small to belong to the two hulks that shadow Malfoy. I could probably throw off the twins, if it comes to that, but blind, I'd only survive one or two steps in the wrong direction before seriously hurting myself, or getting caught again. Something in my panicked mind tells me Harry is going to remember himself and take charge of the situation - eventually. I keep still - the summoning stone at my fingertips - waiting for Potter to make his move, give me the signal.
Any signal.
When it comes in a rush of red smoky haze in the form of my restored sight, it's impossible to miss, although it's of Malfoy's doing, not Harry's.
My heart speeds up as my eyes and brain struggle to take in what's happening, but there's not enough time. Malfoy raises his drink in a silent mock-toast. With a 'snap' that only I can hear, and an uncomfortable rush of blood to my head from my flash of panic, they both vanish from the crowded dance floor and Disapparate nearly on top of me. The twins lose their grip as Draco and Harry's shaky landing pushes me backward, until the whole mess of us meet the solid brick of the shadowed archway behind the DJ. Draco hisses for Femaletwin to distract the stapled music man.
With my hands suddenly free, I grab Harry's arm and reach for the Portkey.
My plan ends as quickly as it began, as I see the wand movement from Maletwin that fastens my jacket to the wall.
So much for the Shield Charm.
With Harry's back pressed against my chest, and Malfoy pressed against his, there's nowhere I can go. Harry's head falls back onto my shoulder, apparently dazed from the unexpected apparition under Draco's sway.
And then I feel it. Warm - comforting like my mother's scarves, or my wife's smiles. There's a delicious aroma as well - fresh brambleberry cake. My mouth waters.
I shake my head and try to fight off Malfoy's influence.
Draco holds Harry against me with one hand, takes a drink from the glass he's somehow managed to hold onto in all of the commotion, and orders Maletwin to store his wand.
His eyes wander over Harry's exposed neck with increased interest, and then lift to meet mine. "If you decide to involve the Aurors tonight, it'll ruin this little game that Harry and I are playing, and set you further away from your goal. Lucius will tell you nothing, and the Ministry will have no choice but to release him within hours of his detainment."
I smile through my fuzzy thoughts when my brain supplies the information I'm searching for. "He can be held up to four years for being an unregistered vampire, according to The Kyebolt Accord of 1590..."
"Sickles and Knuts, my darling Weasel."
Draco mutters a spell to make his drink hover beside Harry's head, and then reaches for my face. I flinch for the sting, but my stomach churns as a soft slide of a palm against my cheek replaces the hit I assumed (hoped) was coming. I turn my head as far out of his reach as I can manage. My twisting against the wall, combined with Draco's pressing from the front draws an obscene moan from Harry. I face down Malfoy and try to ignore Harry's mumbled apologies and the slight push back from his lower body.
"It would be enough to stop the Muggle killings. That's our job, Malfoy," I inform him, sharply.
"Do you honestly think that's where this ends?" Draco growls. His hands press into the brick on either side of my head, trapping Harry between us with only his body and legs.
"What else is there, some political angle?" I ask, trying to squeeze enough air out of my lungs to form the words.
"Indeed. Glad you see you've joined our game." He leans on one arm and turns his attention to Harry once more, petting his flushed face with the backs of white fingers. "You know what the Dark Lord promised his most faithful, don't you? Tell me, what does Lucius truly want, Harry?"
"Power," Harry whispers.
"Through what means?" I demand.
"Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Harry offers, leaning into Malfoy's touches.
Draco shakes his head. "Higher."
"Minister?" I choke on the word, unbelieving.
Draco stops petting Harry long enough to push up on the bottom of his glass. It swings forward and loses half its contents onto Harry's throat and collar bone. A few stray drops splash onto my face and lips as Harry hisses from the shock of the icy liquor.
Scotch.
Expensive scotch.
Harry hums with approval when Draco dips his head to lick at the saturated fabric and wet skin. I use the distraction to wiggle one arm free of my jacket. I stop moving when I feel Draco's eyes on me again.
"Can you imagine the view?" He pulls slowly at Harry's T-shirt. "The Wizarding world at his fingertips, Aurors at his command, laws within his power to change. It's the ultimate prize."
I have imagined it, all of it. It was, at one time, the only dream I ever had. Success. It consumed my thoughts, dictated my actions, clouded my judgement, and almost destroyed my family. I silently agreed with Malfoy - power was hard to ignore.
"Only for a lunatic," Harry points out, unhelpfully rocking his hips and sliding his hands over Draco's back.
I close my eyes and try to clear my mind. I fail. Draco's hand disappears between them, and Harry jerks back in pleasant surprise. I try to imagine that the erratic hips belong to my wife - an ex-girlfriend- anyone but Harry. It doesn't work, and I silently curse myself for the part of my anatomy that begs him not to stop the maddening friction.
"Well, power corrupts, doesn't it, Weasley?"
I ignore the jibe in favour of trying to keep my body from pressing forward. Draco cleans more of the scotch from Harry's skin with his mouth, while his hand does something else to make Harry moan against my ear.
"And if the Ministry, the people fight, if they resist him…" Harry pushes out, after a deep breath.
Draco raises his head, and I see the flash of fangs that weren’t there a moment before. "Yes, my angel, the dead Muggles will be awakened."
A thought jumps into my already crowded mind. "Why didn't he just turn them all into vampires?" I ask, boldly.
"Vampires need feeding, and they have a nasty habit of doing as they please. Inferi are blissfully low maintenance."
Harry, far gone on lust and whatever Draco's doing to his groin, pulls him in for a kiss. They suck on each other with no regard to my objections. Another wave of comfort and cakes rushes over me, and I shamefully moan along with Harry.
Draco's whispers overpower the music, lights, smoke and sweat. "Tell me what you want, Harry…"
I hold my breath and reach up for my pocket at an awkward angle. If I pull hard enough, rip the fabric, the Portkey will hopefully tumble out.
"I want you to..."
Harry cries out when Draco bites down, but it morphs into a hum of pleasure within moments. I feel ill and elated simultaneously, and I decide it's something I never want to experience again.
Harry's writhing and Draco's possessive growling become unbearable, and I nearly lose my grip on the pocket, but the stitching finally gives way, and I keep pulling until the cool silver of the lighter is resting in my palm.
My thoughts struggle for clarity as all of my blood decides to abandon my brain and dive below my belt to inspect the area Harry's grinding against.
If I activate the Portkey, there will be yelling - from both of us- there's no avoiding that, Malfoy will be bounced back to the club by the wards surrounding Grimmauld Place and we'll have a outraged vampire to deal with, once he realises his meal has been interrupted. On the other hand, we have enough information to put a serious damper in Lucius' plans, although there are still a few pieces missing.
"Mmm - where is he keep…where are the Inferi?" Harry attempts the sentence, stealing my thoughts again.
I'm not ready to see the amount of Harry's blood covering Draco's mouth and chin when he suddenly looks up. Neither, apparently is the bouncer who's made his way up the stage stairs. He swoons and falls like something out of a child's book. Draco chuckles at the sight and places bloody kisses across Harry's forehead.
My hand twitches, the lighter heavy in my palm, but something inside begs me to wait for Malfoy's answer.
"He's created a storage tank - a pool for them under the Manor." He spells himself and Harry clean, and then closes the wound with a healing charm and two gentle kisses.
I praise all that is magical for Harry's stillness, and the sudden absence of Draco's invisible cocktail as I gain control of my body once more.
"Thank you," Harry mumbles into Draco's hair, sounding weak, but very content.
Draco kisses him fully, and then winks at me. "The entrance is off the kitchen, and only Father and I know the password."
"What is it?" I ask before I can stop myself.
Malfoy removes his weight and stands up fully. His eyes sweep over both of us and satisfied grin appears on his thin lips.
"You'll find out tomorrow."
Harry has the bad taste to chuckle under his breath.
My fist closes around the Portkey without my permission, and I create a dictionary full of new swear words.
As Malfoy's platinum hair blurs out of sight, I anger myself further with the knowledge that he's right. We have to go back.
There'll be a brilliant row in the morning, Harry already knows he'll get a few choice words before bed tonight, as always, but in the end I'll give him what he wants, what I know will get the job done, although the means is more than one step over 'inappropriate' and not anywhere near 'safe'.
I doubt my wife would believe what happened tonight, even if I had the nerve to tell her. Maybe it's better if she's already gone so I don't have to make up another story about a boring, safe observation assignment.
I do my job because I have a commitment to protect Wizard and Muggle alike: I'll go back tomorrow, because I'm an idiot.
Perhaps I should consider calling the second-least expensive head-healer.
~*~
Original: Clearly an Idiot
Author: dacro
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R - Vampires, blood, lots of leather and bodies rubbing together
Disclaimer: HP world not mine. I just dressed them up as Goths and made them naughty.
Betas: dracofiend and irana Thanks guys! (All remaining flubs are mine)
Summary: Auror Potter and Weasley spend another night surrounded by smoke and pale patrons to gain the information they need to bring down a murderer.
Gift for: saladbats, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETIE!
Author's notes: This is a birthday fic for Saladbats, and also a little dedication to luciology. The two of them sent me a very funny e-mail a few weeks ago, begging for more Auror!Harry and nummy vampires. Now, how could I turn down a request like that? So, this is indeed the sequel to Clearly an Idiot, and I truly hope you all enjoy the continued adventures of our lust-distracted heroes. *grin*
Feedback and comments are always welcome. *biggest hugs*
ETA: Thanks to all of you who found the typos and pointed them out. *highfives*
Clearly an Idiot - Part II
I pull on the black boots that I hate, half-watching Potter drag a flat white box out of the Floo.
I should be home.
I should be blocking my bedroom door, begging my wife not to pack her bags with the intent of visiting her mother for a little while. My long day and late night work hours and half-hearted interest in our marriage has given her every reason to leave. To be honest, if I were in her place, I wouldn't stay either.
Instead, I'm readying myself to -once again - protect my libido-crazed, but successful, partner from an equally attractive, informative, and potentially dangerous vampire.
Minute by minute, I reconfirm my idiot status.
Harry unfolds the note that accompanies the parcel, and reads aloud.
"Potter. My apologies for the last minute gift, but the more I thought of our meeting tonight, the more I longed to see you in this outfit. There is no need (or room in the trousers) for your wand. D Malfoy. P.S. No need for Weasley either, but if you must, he will be wandless as well, or my information will stay locked away on my friendly tongue. P.P.S. Your snake is in the box. You may want to open it sooner than later."
I roll my eyes, as Harry rips open the box, and wonder if it's too late to save my marriage and find a replacement bodyguard for my single-minded partner.
Harry pulls the snake from the box and holds her close to his face, inspecting for any damage. He hisses in greeting when her tongue darts out to tickle his nose. I shake off the shivers that Parseltongue always causes.
"She's fine," he reports over his shoulder, bending to release her onto the warm hearthstone. "Happy to see me - angry with Malfoy. She says he's wearing snake skin trous…" he trails off, and then freezes, hands buried in tissue paper. "Oh!"
I take a step closer and glance down. He pulls well-worn green leather trousers slowly from the box, and holds them to his chest, as if they were sacred. My face heats uncomfortably when he buries his nose in the fabric and inhales.
"Damn, he's good," he whispers, rubbing the leather against his cheek and neck.
An image of Harry pressed against similar trousers the night before, suddenly sets off a choir of internal warning bells.
"No, Harry, definitely not. Send them back." He thrusts them out of my reach.
"The note says…"
I count to ten, breathing deeply. "The note says no wands. The outfit is a request, and not necessary for the exchange of information." He opens his mouth to protest, but I continue. "Wearing the same trousers you rutted against last night will not allow you to keep a clear mind, not to mention that accepting gifts from an undead suspect is highly unprofessional."
"I always get the job done, don't I?" he challenges, dropping the leather back into the box.
Fixing my tongue firmly between my teeth, I fight spewing out the long list of Harry's recent violations. He drops his battle glare when he notices my restraint. His hand cards through his recently-brushed hair.
"You're right. I can't lose control like I did last night, but the more I play his game, the more willing he is to offer up what we're looking for." He scratches absentmindedly at his neck, and adopts the humbled stance he knows always gets him what he wants from me.
"Look, we can cast the listening charm, and any others we need before we leave, and we'll have back-up on standby. I have an emergency Portkey for you." He finishes, handing me a silver Muggle flame-maker that I've seen all the club patrons carry.
I sigh, silently cursing my weak resolve, and nod towards the box. "Go on. You have five minutes to change your outfit."
His smile could melt ice. He scoops up the box and bounds out of the room like Christmas morning. I throw the Listening Charm after his retreating form, Floo call for Auror stand-by assistance, and remind myself to book an appointment with the least expensive head-healer I can find in the morning.
~*~
The Cave would be a comfortable temperature if I were a Hogwarts' greenhouse during the month of July. I will be properly pruned by the end of the evening if I remain a minute longer in my jacket, but thanks to Harry - or thanks to his hurry to meet with Malfoy - it's the one bit of protection against spells I have at my disposal, since there was only time enough to cast the shield charm over this single item before having to abandon my wand.
Since Malfoy already knows I'm here, Harry suggested I stay in plain view - somewhere near the dance floor - in case he had a 'temporary lapse in judgement'. I'm sandwiched in between the entrance to the stage, and what Harry calls the 'DJ'. Apparently the band has the night off and a thin man - arms covered in metal staples - is their replacement, playing music that is slightly more energetic than most clubs of this sort, and yet still somehow dark and depressing.
Harry looks up from where he's swaying and politely refuses another drink, this time from a very attractive redhead who - more than likely - lied about her age to get whatever it is that she's now drinking herself as she dances away, blushing through pale make-up.
The music changes to something fast and gritty, and Harry joins the others in thrusting their arms into the air. I have to grudgingly give silent points to Malfoy for choosing Harry's outfit. I wonder if he's hidden somewhere, watching the picture Harry's painting as he spins around in that clinging white t-shirt - a beacon in a sea of black.
I don't wait long for my answer.
I see the henchmen first and shiver with the memory of our meeting the night before. They're not hard to spot - a head taller than anyone else - as they plow a path through the jumping bodies, Malfoy's platinum hair appears as they part, just behind Harry, who is playing his game of pretending not to see the canyon that opens up around him.
Draco presses up from behind, his arms already snaking around Harry's chest by the time I try to reach for the wand that isn't there.
"You glow like an angel," Draco purrs into the space behind Harry's ear. One of Harry's arms is already lifting up and behind, fingers landing in blonde hair, urging Malfoy closer.
So much for remaining professional.
As if hearing my thoughts, Harry stiffens and spins away, trying to find the beat once more. His gaze sharpens quickly as he gets the first look at Draco's attire: dark-grey snake skin trousers, black boots similar to my own, and a tight black t-shirt with two pale yellow words across the middle of his chest - Go away.
A shadow crosses Draco's eyes. "I thought you came to play, Potter."
Harry covers with a near-convincing smile. "I came - for information - you know that."
Draco tilts his head, regarding Harry closely. "I think I liked you more last night." He steps out in time to the music and does a smooth spin-walk around Harry. "Are you sure that's the only reason you came back?" Completing his rotation, Draco glides a palm over the green leather covering Harry's bottom. "Would that be why you neglected to pull on pants under my trousers?"
A rapid white light begins to flash overhead. I can see the challenge in Malfoy's eyes, and the flush of Harry's cheeks. I promised him I wouldn't interfere, but my hand plunges into my pocket, ready to snatch up the summoning stone if Malfoy steps out of line.
An annoying voice somewhere in my thick skull reminds me of the implications of calling for help, and the pitiful reality of transfer once word gets out of our inability to get the job done. There's also the matter of our stupidity in agreeing to a wandless confrontation. Silent shame is better then public humiliation, I suppose.
Harry keeps his eyes to the floor and doesn't answer, nor does he remove Malfoy's wandering hand. They dance in silence for a while, the crowd of patrons still leaving a respectful distance around them, and around Draco's statue-like thugs.
"You certainly look good enough to eat, Potter." Draco's other hand joins the first just under the curve at the top of Harry's legs. He uses the grip to close the distance between them, and then attacks with a kiss.
Harry allows it for a second, then breaks away, attempting to calm himself by taking long slow breaths against the rapid pulse of the music and the insistent grip of Draco's hands. He lifts his eyes to meet Malfoy's once more.
"When does Lucius plan to use the Inferi?"
I am proud beyond words.
Malfoy smiles, and gives Harry's bottom a squeeze. "Oh, very good. Seems I gave you too many hints last time." He summons one of his body guards and orders a drink. He waves the other off in the direction of the booths.
I try to keep the comforting ridges of the proscenium at my back, in case they plan to ambush me again. The DJ lifts one side of his black-painted mouth at me.
Wonderful. I'm everyone's private joke.
"The Inferi…" Harry repeats.
"Are only to be employed if the primary plan fails," Draco says slowly, as if speaking to an impatient child.
He closes the distance to slide his tongue over parted lips. Harry moves forward, but then pauses and pulls back a fraction.
"What's the…"
Harry's question fades into the clamour of the club as Draco spins him around and molds himself to the back of Harry's t-shirt, fingers poised like talons at the glowing shoulders. His lips move again to Harry's ear, but Harry keeps perfectly still, as if he's just been hit with Petrificus.
"All give and very little take will not get you any closer to your goal, Harry. Not to mention it's no fun at all for me." His lips press a kiss into the damp skin underneath Harry's earlobe. The listening spell picks up Harry's sigh just before his eyelids fall.
"Why are you fighting me tonight, Potter?"
There's a strange thickness to Draco's voice, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Harry's body relaxes slightly with each shaky breath.
"Because I'm work- last night was - god, you smell wonderful. Chocolate..." Harry stammers breathily, his hands sliding behind him to touch Draco's thighs, eyes still closed tight.
I bite at my lip and pray Harry's only 'playing along', although my stomach tells me I'm fooling myself.
"One of the few benefits of my condition: irresistible pheromones." He sways them gently as the first non-pulsing song in nearly an hour rolls out of the speaker boxes.
"Wasn't this strong last night," Harry purrs, drowsily.
"I wasn't hungry last night."
My fingers twitch at my sides as my stomach drops. I mentally calculate how long it would take me to reach Harry. Even without the bulking obstacle of Malfoy's henchmen, I've never wrestled a vampire before, so there was a solid chance I wouldn't be able to break his hold on my pheromone-drunk partner.
The thug with the drink returns, hands it to Draco, then is dismissed once more. I decide to use the distraction to make my move.
Too late.
In a flash of silver, Malfoy's twins from last night appear on either side of me. My stomach sinks as I notice the dejectedly-abandoned way the female is staring back at Draco while out of the corner of my eye, the male is blowing something out of the palm of his hand.
The room goes black - Darkness Powder, I'm sure of it. I yell for Harry, but I know he can't hear me over the din. I reach for the wall and try to inch my way closer to the DJ, a more visible spot, in case Harry opens his eyes. His panting and Draco's voice are still clear in my ears, even though the powder has cut me off from them visually.
"Now, back to the game, Potter. What would you say to all of the information your heart desires, all at once?"
I quickly consider using the Portkey to take me to my wand, but leaving Harry, even for an instant causes an uncomfortable ache in my chest.
"You expect me to believe that you're serious?"
"Oh, most certainly."
"What's the catch?"
"In return, I get a bit of a snack. I didn't get enough of you last night."
My heart is too loud in my ears, thumping rhythmically like Fred and George at a Quidditch match.
"What if I say no?"
"Then you, and your freckled partner, will continue to stay in the dark."
He sees me now, I can feel it. I wave my hand over blank eyes, and now he knows.
"Percy can summon a dozen Aurors here in an instant, and have your father in custody a few minutes after that."
My hand slides into my jacket pocket, and two sets of hands close around my elbows - too small to belong to the two hulks that shadow Malfoy. I could probably throw off the twins, if it comes to that, but blind, I'd only survive one or two steps in the wrong direction before seriously hurting myself, or getting caught again. Something in my panicked mind tells me Harry is going to remember himself and take charge of the situation - eventually. I keep still - the summoning stone at my fingertips - waiting for Potter to make his move, give me the signal.
Any signal.
When it comes in a rush of red smoky haze in the form of my restored sight, it's impossible to miss, although it's of Malfoy's doing, not Harry's.
My heart speeds up as my eyes and brain struggle to take in what's happening, but there's not enough time. Malfoy raises his drink in a silent mock-toast. With a 'snap' that only I can hear, and an uncomfortable rush of blood to my head from my flash of panic, they both vanish from the crowded dance floor and Disapparate nearly on top of me. The twins lose their grip as Draco and Harry's shaky landing pushes me backward, until the whole mess of us meet the solid brick of the shadowed archway behind the DJ. Draco hisses for Femaletwin to distract the stapled music man.
With my hands suddenly free, I grab Harry's arm and reach for the Portkey.
My plan ends as quickly as it began, as I see the wand movement from Maletwin that fastens my jacket to the wall.
So much for the Shield Charm.
With Harry's back pressed against my chest, and Malfoy pressed against his, there's nowhere I can go. Harry's head falls back onto my shoulder, apparently dazed from the unexpected apparition under Draco's sway.
And then I feel it. Warm - comforting like my mother's scarves, or my wife's smiles. There's a delicious aroma as well - fresh brambleberry cake. My mouth waters.
I shake my head and try to fight off Malfoy's influence.
Draco holds Harry against me with one hand, takes a drink from the glass he's somehow managed to hold onto in all of the commotion, and orders Maletwin to store his wand.
His eyes wander over Harry's exposed neck with increased interest, and then lift to meet mine. "If you decide to involve the Aurors tonight, it'll ruin this little game that Harry and I are playing, and set you further away from your goal. Lucius will tell you nothing, and the Ministry will have no choice but to release him within hours of his detainment."
I smile through my fuzzy thoughts when my brain supplies the information I'm searching for. "He can be held up to four years for being an unregistered vampire, according to The Kyebolt Accord of 1590..."
"Sickles and Knuts, my darling Weasel."
Draco mutters a spell to make his drink hover beside Harry's head, and then reaches for my face. I flinch for the sting, but my stomach churns as a soft slide of a palm against my cheek replaces the hit I assumed (hoped) was coming. I turn my head as far out of his reach as I can manage. My twisting against the wall, combined with Draco's pressing from the front draws an obscene moan from Harry. I face down Malfoy and try to ignore Harry's mumbled apologies and the slight push back from his lower body.
"It would be enough to stop the Muggle killings. That's our job, Malfoy," I inform him, sharply.
"Do you honestly think that's where this ends?" Draco growls. His hands press into the brick on either side of my head, trapping Harry between us with only his body and legs.
"What else is there, some political angle?" I ask, trying to squeeze enough air out of my lungs to form the words.
"Indeed. Glad you see you've joined our game." He leans on one arm and turns his attention to Harry once more, petting his flushed face with the backs of white fingers. "You know what the Dark Lord promised his most faithful, don't you? Tell me, what does Lucius truly want, Harry?"
"Power," Harry whispers.
"Through what means?" I demand.
"Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Harry offers, leaning into Malfoy's touches.
Draco shakes his head. "Higher."
"Minister?" I choke on the word, unbelieving.
Draco stops petting Harry long enough to push up on the bottom of his glass. It swings forward and loses half its contents onto Harry's throat and collar bone. A few stray drops splash onto my face and lips as Harry hisses from the shock of the icy liquor.
Scotch.
Expensive scotch.
Harry hums with approval when Draco dips his head to lick at the saturated fabric and wet skin. I use the distraction to wiggle one arm free of my jacket. I stop moving when I feel Draco's eyes on me again.
"Can you imagine the view?" He pulls slowly at Harry's T-shirt. "The Wizarding world at his fingertips, Aurors at his command, laws within his power to change. It's the ultimate prize."
I have imagined it, all of it. It was, at one time, the only dream I ever had. Success. It consumed my thoughts, dictated my actions, clouded my judgement, and almost destroyed my family. I silently agreed with Malfoy - power was hard to ignore.
"Only for a lunatic," Harry points out, unhelpfully rocking his hips and sliding his hands over Draco's back.
I close my eyes and try to clear my mind. I fail. Draco's hand disappears between them, and Harry jerks back in pleasant surprise. I try to imagine that the erratic hips belong to my wife - an ex-girlfriend- anyone but Harry. It doesn't work, and I silently curse myself for the part of my anatomy that begs him not to stop the maddening friction.
"Well, power corrupts, doesn't it, Weasley?"
I ignore the jibe in favour of trying to keep my body from pressing forward. Draco cleans more of the scotch from Harry's skin with his mouth, while his hand does something else to make Harry moan against my ear.
"And if the Ministry, the people fight, if they resist him…" Harry pushes out, after a deep breath.
Draco raises his head, and I see the flash of fangs that weren’t there a moment before. "Yes, my angel, the dead Muggles will be awakened."
A thought jumps into my already crowded mind. "Why didn't he just turn them all into vampires?" I ask, boldly.
"Vampires need feeding, and they have a nasty habit of doing as they please. Inferi are blissfully low maintenance."
Harry, far gone on lust and whatever Draco's doing to his groin, pulls him in for a kiss. They suck on each other with no regard to my objections. Another wave of comfort and cakes rushes over me, and I shamefully moan along with Harry.
Draco's whispers overpower the music, lights, smoke and sweat. "Tell me what you want, Harry…"
I hold my breath and reach up for my pocket at an awkward angle. If I pull hard enough, rip the fabric, the Portkey will hopefully tumble out.
"I want you to..."
Harry cries out when Draco bites down, but it morphs into a hum of pleasure within moments. I feel ill and elated simultaneously, and I decide it's something I never want to experience again.
Harry's writhing and Draco's possessive growling become unbearable, and I nearly lose my grip on the pocket, but the stitching finally gives way, and I keep pulling until the cool silver of the lighter is resting in my palm.
My thoughts struggle for clarity as all of my blood decides to abandon my brain and dive below my belt to inspect the area Harry's grinding against.
If I activate the Portkey, there will be yelling - from both of us- there's no avoiding that, Malfoy will be bounced back to the club by the wards surrounding Grimmauld Place and we'll have a outraged vampire to deal with, once he realises his meal has been interrupted. On the other hand, we have enough information to put a serious damper in Lucius' plans, although there are still a few pieces missing.
"Mmm - where is he keep…where are the Inferi?" Harry attempts the sentence, stealing my thoughts again.
I'm not ready to see the amount of Harry's blood covering Draco's mouth and chin when he suddenly looks up. Neither, apparently is the bouncer who's made his way up the stage stairs. He swoons and falls like something out of a child's book. Draco chuckles at the sight and places bloody kisses across Harry's forehead.
My hand twitches, the lighter heavy in my palm, but something inside begs me to wait for Malfoy's answer.
"He's created a storage tank - a pool for them under the Manor." He spells himself and Harry clean, and then closes the wound with a healing charm and two gentle kisses.
I praise all that is magical for Harry's stillness, and the sudden absence of Draco's invisible cocktail as I gain control of my body once more.
"Thank you," Harry mumbles into Draco's hair, sounding weak, but very content.
Draco kisses him fully, and then winks at me. "The entrance is off the kitchen, and only Father and I know the password."
"What is it?" I ask before I can stop myself.
Malfoy removes his weight and stands up fully. His eyes sweep over both of us and satisfied grin appears on his thin lips.
"You'll find out tomorrow."
Harry has the bad taste to chuckle under his breath.
My fist closes around the Portkey without my permission, and I create a dictionary full of new swear words.
As Malfoy's platinum hair blurs out of sight, I anger myself further with the knowledge that he's right. We have to go back.
There'll be a brilliant row in the morning, Harry already knows he'll get a few choice words before bed tonight, as always, but in the end I'll give him what he wants, what I know will get the job done, although the means is more than one step over 'inappropriate' and not anywhere near 'safe'.
I doubt my wife would believe what happened tonight, even if I had the nerve to tell her. Maybe it's better if she's already gone so I don't have to make up another story about a boring, safe observation assignment.
I do my job because I have a commitment to protect Wizard and Muggle alike: I'll go back tomorrow, because I'm an idiot.
Perhaps I should consider calling the second-least expensive head-healer.
~*~