What Time Can't Erase 1/7
Title: What Time Can't Erase
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These definitely aren't mine. Characters and the plots of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling.
Summary: Harry Potter is an average New York City cop. A not-so-average blond man and a frustrating case have Harry questioning everything. This fic is not AU, even if the summary makes it sound like it. It falls under the Harry Potter fanfic classification of EWE (epilogue, what epilogue?)
A/N: I have no idea how long ago I started writing it. But well, now it's finished, so ... enjoy.
Part 1:
Harry angled his short frame out of the cab. He handed the driver way more than he should have and turned, stalking toward the door of Pubbles and Beer. The door seemed to open by itself, and Harry sighed when his eyes landed on the smooth expanse of mahogany. He made a beeline to the bar and sat hard on a stool.
“Howdy, Harry.”
Harry grunted as a glass was set in front of him. He downed the drink, and only as it hit the back of his throat did he register that it was whiskey. A cold beer came into his field of vision. Two hands placed on the edge of that vision finally got him to look up.
Adam smiled at him. “Bad day?”
Harry grunted again. It hadn’t been that bad of a day. No worse than others when he was working a difficult case, but he hated it when people covered up for lying bastards. He chugged the beer, not looking away from Adam, and he softened. Adam always had that effect. Couldn’t be upset with those brown eyes or the long auburn hair. Even when they briefly tried to be lovers and Harry had ended up screaming at him, Adam hadn’t taken it personally and they drifted apart ...
How many years ago?
“Stop thinking about it, Potter,” Adam said, with a flirtatious lift of an eyebrow.
Harry had to smile. Other patrons caught Adam’s attention and he moved down the bar. Harry let his eyes follow him, but when Adam turned to mix some drinks, Harry’s gaze caught another from the end of the bar. It was too dim to see details, but the man’s almost white hair stood out, as did the piercing look from wide eyes. He couldn’t read the gaze; a bit of surprise in it, but it sent his body signals that he didn’t want to deal with tonight.
Attractive, Harry thought, then frowned and looked away, concentrating on the long neck bottle. Halfway through his beer, Harry growled. Adam kept shooting him concerned glances, and that jack ass wouldn’t stop staring at him. The hand around the bottle turned white. He almost rose, and then Adam dropped another shot of whiskey in front of him.
“Take it,” he said with an eye roll at Harry’s narrowed eyes. “You definitely need it.”
Harry stared at it. A movement of white caught his attention, but he didn’t look over, just relieved that the man’s gaze wasn’t on him anymore. Harry took the shot, and then pulled out his wallet, dropped a twenty on the bar and left.
His way to the bar hadn’t been impeded, but trying to get out was something else. It was the peak of the night, and bodies clogged the way to the door. He focused his eyes on the door and politely but firmly detached himself from women’s arms. The first gasp of city air filled his lungs. The bar was not the respite he thought it would be. He needed to walk.
A throat cleared behind him, and he spun.
The blond from the bar leaned against the iron railing. He was taller than Harry, probably about six feet. His body was wrapped in black jeans and a blood red shirt. Harry didn’t know why, but he knew it was silk. Pale skin showed through where the top button was left open. His hair was left wild, city wind caressing it across the red silk that covered broad shoulders. Gray blue eyes roved about him a bit, and then came the smile; pretentious, powerful. Annoying. A smirk more than a smile. Harry fought the impulse to shiver.
“Warm night,” the man muttered, a slight accent to his voice that Harry thought he imagined.
Harry scoffed and turned. He took a step away.
That scathing voice said, “Not in mood for conversation?”
This time the British accent was strong. It wasn’t the Irish, cockney slur, but dignified and stern, despite the playful tone.
“No.”
Laughter made him stop and turn back around. The man pushed off from the railing. Harry couldn’t help but watch him as he glided over. He only moved five steps but Harry would have paid him to walk more.
He shook his head and then met those gray blue eyes again. Another smirk firmly in place.
“I’m not in the mood for this,” Harry said. “Maybe another night when I don’t feel like killing half of New York City.”
“Killing, shagging, just two different forms of mind blowing fulfillment.”
Harry couldn’t help it and laughed. Then his sensibilities returned. “Nice chatting with you -”
“Draco,” the man said.
Harry raised his eyebrows.
“That’s my name. Draco Malfoy.”
“The name matches the pompous persona. Well done, but you’ll have to get your shagging elsewhere.”
The smile/smirk turned to a longing and hungry grin. “Must I? Funny how you automatically think that’s what I’m after.”
“You’ve been nothing but obvious.”
This brought laughter. “I know how to get what I want.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I’m good at refusing.”
“A challenge,” and those blue-gray eyes sparkled.
“You don’t even know my name.”
Draco’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.
Finally, Harry rolled his eyes. He thought briefly of lying, but then couldn’t and said, “Harry Potter.”
The eyes flashed with victory, but Draco said, “The name matches the average, dispensable, classic New Yarker. Well done.”
“Well, Draco, it’s been fun. See ya later.”
Harry turned to go, and then looked back when Draco said, “Hey.” He held out a white card, but Harry didn’t reach to take it.
“Just in case,” Draco said, another smirk firmly in place.
Another eye roll, but Harry snatched the business card out of those pale hands. He turned before he could really appreciate the smooth skin that grazed his fingers.
After only five steps, that British voice said, “You lack the finesse, Potter, but you swing a mighty fine swagger with that arse.”
Harry didn’t turn about but hurried his footsteps.
The walk did nothing to appease him. Anger at this current case made thinking difficult. If only Barnes would just do something stupid, ANYTHING stupid, and Harry could nail him. But the man was smart. Not the first smart man Harry had brought down, but one of the most conniving. Even with a search warrant for his home and office, Harry couldn’t find any evidence that his girlfriend had, as he said, just up and left him. But Bella, according to family, wasn’t one to go more than three or four days without asking for money. No one had heard from her for three weeks.
He took the stairs up to his apartment, unlocked the door and threw his keys onto the small table by the door. His wallet followed. The white card fluttered, this way and that, before settling on the floor. Harry smiled and picked it up.
The business name was Malfoy Enterprises. Draco Malfoy was listed as Acting CEO. CEO? That man had barely looked twenty-one. An address from uptown, phone and fax number, an email address. On the back was a different number. A cell number if the prefix was any indication.
The walk had been a disaster; the bar had been a disaster. Maybe he did just need to get laid. He gave himself a shake. Not during a case. It always distracted him when he was working a case. He set the business card by his wallet and then went to shower.
Harry kept his eyes to the floor, ignoring his reflection as long as he could. Sometimes he had the sinking feeling that it watched him, just waiting to spurt out insults about his features. The scar was the first one, the lightning shaped symbol of his parents’ death when he was only one. There were other scars from abusive relatives, fights at school, and injuries from lacrosse. He stripped, revealing more of them. The one from his rookie year on the force. He told people it was a bullet wound just because, but his partner had stabbed him with a pencil. It took a long time to get the lead out of him. Scars from scrapes and tangles with hooligans trying to run away from him.
Life as a cop wasn’t easy, but it was something he felt he always wanted. A bit of authority, but not enough to really be noticed. He spared a glance for his bright green eyes and then popped out his contacts. The world went blurry.
He turned the shower temperature up higher than normal, trying to get rid of the stress of the day. His hair was getting long again, he’d have to cut it back to above his ears or Randall would give him one. Randall was always looking for a reason to bust Harry’s ass, but Harry knew he was a damn good cop. And Randall was just piss and wind.
That single thought of annoyance, brought up another, but less source, as gray-blue eyes and white-blond hair filled his vision.
He needed to rip up that business card.
---/---
Wind blows in his face. Sun comes in snatches, blinding him and then warming him as he soars around. Despite his concentration, a thrill of exhilaration flies through him. This is life. This is breath. A glitter catches his eye. This is the point of everything. He dives after it, knowing that he will get there before that streak of white-blonde hair below him.
---/---
Harry jerked awake. Another flying dream.
But there had never been anyone else in those. He knew that bit of pale hair though, and shivered. Yeah, maybe he should have just shagged that Malfoy. He kept seeing that hair everywhere.
His phone rang in the dark, and he jumped. A bit edgy. He took a steeling breath, and answered, “Potter.”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, Kat, you didn’t.”
“You need to get laid.”
He rolled his eyes at his dark bedroom. Kat Saunders, his sometimes-partner, always-irritator. Another relationship gone sour, but that’s because Harry had given up on women at that point. Kat hadn’t minded, and they still shagged once in a while.
Shagged? Again? He shook his head to clear out that smirk from his mind.
“ - know, I know. You don’t get involved when you’re on a case.”
“That better be why you’re calling at the butt crack of dawn,” Harry said with a growl.
She laughed. “Like I would have dared otherwise.”
“What have you got for me?”
“Bella’s ex-boyfriend.”
Harry almost dropped his phone.
“Yep, we found him. He wasn’t very cooperative, but we’re holding him for something else that we can’t feasibly charge him for, so you better get down here and - ”
“I’m already on my way,” he said and disconnected the call. And he was, he’d stood and flipped on the lights before Kat was half way through. Finally, something good. Finally, something worthwhile. Harry didn’t shower, but threw on clothes, grabbed keys, phone and wallet and barreled out the door.
He shouldn’t have been so excited. The interview didn’t go his way and Mutton, as he said he preferred to be called, didn’t know where Bella was. They let him stew in the interview room for hours, asking again and again, but in the end, Kat was right, and they couldn’t hold him. It didn’t make sense to Harry, they’d been trying to talk to him since Bella disappeared. Mutton didn’t give him a reason for not saying why he hadn’t just cooperated to begin with. That was promising. It meant that Mutton knew something, no matter what he said.
The night shift was on, and a fresh cup of coffee landed on Harry’s desk. Coffee splattered onto his paperwork He jerked alert, and then smiled up at Kat.
“Jumpy, Potter?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he admitted and then wished it back.
“You need to get some sleep.”
“He needs to get laid,” a uniform said from across the room.
Harry flipped the guy off without turning in his seat. “You just want me, Sorenson.”
“Harry,” Kat muttered.
He looked up and grinned. Kat was gorgeous with waves of brown hair, green eyes. Currently her white teeth had a hold of one of her luscious lips, face set with worry. Harry didn’t care about the flippant remark. Randall wasn’t there and Sorenson wasn’t one of his flunkies.
“All of that will be here tomorrow morning,” Kat said.
Harry picked up the concern in her voice and decided not to fight with her. If he tried, she’d just sit there, so perfectly pressed against his desk and distract him until he went home.
“You win, Inspector,” he said.
“Take him to your place, Kat,” Sorenson said. “Calm him down.”
He put his arm around Kat and just as they were passing Sorenson’s desk, he grabbed Kat’s ass and then said, “I’m gay and I still have a better chance than you ever will.”
“Potter!” Kat shouted.
They shared a cab toward his place, but she denied the invitation up, even after he apologized for making her feel bad.
Home was bad, home was lonely. Harry tried to watch TV, he tried to read, he tried to shower. He was too high strung and ended up pacing.
Something was wrong, there was something big just beyond his fingertips. Something he missed. He couldn’t even tell if it had to do with the Barnes case or not. He always trusted his instincts. Whatever it was, it wasn’t here in his apartment. He shot a glance at the clock. Almost midnight. He grabbed his jacket and went outside. He didn’t mean to go to Pubbles, but his feet knew the route better than his brain did.
Bodies filled the bar, loud music blasted from the speakers. He almost turned around, but Adam caught his eye and gestured to him with a shot glass. Harry sighed, and against his better judgment, waded his way to the bar.
After taking the shot, Adam leaned in and said loudly in his ear, “That blond that was making eyes at you is back.”
Harry groaned.
“He’s been here the last four nights looking for you. He’s upstairs. I told him I’d tell you to go talk to him if you showed up.”
Harry gave him desperate eyes. Adam smiled and shook his head, completely unrepentant.
“Sorry, man, but he’s a customer, and pays for his drinks. You don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to go upstairs, but honestly, you -”
“Need to get laid, I know,” Harry finished. “Apparently, you’re not the only one that’s noticed.”
Adam laughed. He fixed a drink and put it, plus a beer, in front of him. “Here, that’s what he’s been ordering. Go take it to him.”
“But -”
That’s as far as Harry got before Adam turned his back, flicking his hands in dismissal. Harry took a deep breath, grabbed both of the drinks and stood. His mind ignored the smirk in his head and told the rest of him to calm down. He was going to talk to this Draco, and find out how the hell a mere kid was a CEO.
He was still climbing the stairs when he met gray-blue eyes. Lips, flush against his pale skin, turned into a smirk. That smirk made Harry pause, not literally, but he noted it and wondered for a moment what it hid. He knew enough about interrogation that people had masks they hid behind.
Harry set the drink in front of Draco and then sat in the booth.
“I was about to leave,” Draco said in disdain.
“I’m not stopping you,” Harry replied.
“I’ve been waiting for you for four days, why would I leave once you’re here?”
“You’re not one for directness, Malfoy.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
Harry shrugged. He wasn’t really sure. “Instinct. I’m a cop, I deal with all types of people, and you learn how to read them.”
Draco smiled. “So I’m being direct, so what? That just means that I know I don’t have to try to get what I want from you. You’ll cave. Just thinking about it will be enough to make you crumble.”
Harry scoffed.
“What’s the matter? Scared, Potter?”
Harry smiled, and easily replied, “You wish, Malfoy," almost like he'd done it before.
Draco’s blue eyes glistened with amusement. His lips quirked in a smile that he hid quickly. Harry watched as those lips settled on the rim of the glass. A bit of clear liquid quickly disappeared. A pink tongue licked the rim of the glass. Harry knew it was a ploy to make him look up, but he didn’t, not until the lips moved and the glass clinked against the table.
Lust settled into Draco’s eyes, now more gray than blue. That look managed what the tongue hadn’t, and Harry blushed. He refused to look away from that smirk.
“So tell me, Harry, how does a tough, New York City cop be gay?”
“How does a pain in the ass like you get to be CEO of a company?”
“Acting CEO,” he corrected quickly. “It’s my father’s firm, but he’s currently incapacitated.”
“In what way?”
Draco’s eyes flashed, a brief moment, before that mask came back.
“Okay, so you don’t want to talk about it. How do you know I’m a cop?” Harry said.
Draco rolled his eyes. “You’ve left me here for four bloody nights. I’ve been talking to Adam. He says some wonderful things about you.”
The lick of lips that came with that made Harry grin. He took a sip of beer, and then said, “I'm gay because I was abused in junior high and decided I liked it. The jack asses never got in trouble for it, so maybe that’s a bit of why I’m a cop, but honestly, I just like the anonymity of the job. I get to help people, but I don’t necessarily stand out.”
“Oh, you stand out,” Draco crooned, “with those fiery green eyes and that body that is currently over clothed.”
Draco seemed that much younger to him all of sudden. “How old are you?” Harry asked.
“Younguns aren’t your thing, huh?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. Did this ... git, really just say that? Did he just call him a git?
Draco’s laughter curbed his confusion. “I’m twenty-five. And you, Mr. Responsible?”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am. And you?”
“Same.”
“And what else do you do besides being a cop?”
Harry sighed. “You know what, ferret -”
“What did you just call me?” His eyes were narrowed again.
“A ferret. Guess I should have gone with a weasel.”
“Hey, I haven’t done anything.”
“I know. That’s why I’m mad. I didn’t walk up those stairs with the intention of playing the let’s get to know one another game.”
“Fair enough.” This time he leaned forward, a lustful gleam in his eye. “So what else do you do besides being a cop?”
“Why? Do you prefer being in charge of the nightstick?”
His smile was fleeting, but then he shook his head. “Not very original, Potter. I hope you have other talents.”
Harry downed his beer and stood up. “Only one way for you to find out.”
“Told you I was good at getting what I wanted.”
“I stopped resisting.”
Harry led the way down the stairs. He caught Adam’s eye. When Adam grinned at him, Harry flipped him off. They stepped out into the cool air, and then Harry headed to his apartment.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Draco demanded.
“Home.”
Draco made a noise of disbelief.
“I thought you were coming with me.”
“We never did discuss location.”
“You mean with that tired line of ‘your place or mine’? Sorry, Malfoy, but I live two blocks that way. I’m in no mood to wait for a cab or to drive downtown to wherever it is that you live.”
“Eager, huh?”
“Frustrated.”
“Well, we should bloody well talk about parameters. You don’t seem like the type to bottom, and I’m always in charge.”
“Don’t worry. You can bottom and be in charge at the same time.”
Malfoy laughed. “Too true, but I don’t bottom.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“Okay, so I rarely bottom.”
“Nice try.”
“So you have me all figured out, Potter?”
“Sure do. You’re Daddy’s little boy, wherever Daddy is. Chances are, you either haven’t told him you’re gay, or he already knows and isn’t happy with you about it. You bottom because of some strange, fucked up childhood where no one ever loved you enough and--”
“That’s quite enough,” Draco whispered.
Harry chanced a glance at him. He was looking at the ground. They walked in silence.
“Are you sure we’ve never met before?” Draco asked, grey eyes suddenly meeting his green ones.
Harry almost said yes, of course, he knew him. It felt right, but he was sure he’d never met a handsome, British man. “I would have remembered meeting a blond as irritating and gorgeous as you.”
The spark came back to his eyes as he smiled.
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry continued. “I’m good at figuring people out. I’m a cop, remember? It’s what I do.”
Harry opened the glass door to his building. The security guard looked up, nodded and then looked back at his magazine. As they bypassed the elevators, Harry stole another glance at Draco. He seemed a bit confused.
“They get stuck a lot,” Harry said. “And I’d much rather do this in my apartment than in an elevator.”
The security guard snorted.
Part 2: A Reoccurrence of Dreams
.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These definitely aren't mine. Characters and the plots of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling.
Summary: Harry Potter is an average New York City cop. A not-so-average blond man and a frustrating case have Harry questioning everything. This fic is not AU, even if the summary makes it sound like it. It falls under the Harry Potter fanfic classification of EWE (epilogue, what epilogue?)
A/N: I have no idea how long ago I started writing it. But well, now it's finished, so ... enjoy.
Part 1:
Harry angled his short frame out of the cab. He handed the driver way more than he should have and turned, stalking toward the door of Pubbles and Beer. The door seemed to open by itself, and Harry sighed when his eyes landed on the smooth expanse of mahogany. He made a beeline to the bar and sat hard on a stool.
“Howdy, Harry.”
Harry grunted as a glass was set in front of him. He downed the drink, and only as it hit the back of his throat did he register that it was whiskey. A cold beer came into his field of vision. Two hands placed on the edge of that vision finally got him to look up.
Adam smiled at him. “Bad day?”
Harry grunted again. It hadn’t been that bad of a day. No worse than others when he was working a difficult case, but he hated it when people covered up for lying bastards. He chugged the beer, not looking away from Adam, and he softened. Adam always had that effect. Couldn’t be upset with those brown eyes or the long auburn hair. Even when they briefly tried to be lovers and Harry had ended up screaming at him, Adam hadn’t taken it personally and they drifted apart ...
How many years ago?
“Stop thinking about it, Potter,” Adam said, with a flirtatious lift of an eyebrow.
Harry had to smile. Other patrons caught Adam’s attention and he moved down the bar. Harry let his eyes follow him, but when Adam turned to mix some drinks, Harry’s gaze caught another from the end of the bar. It was too dim to see details, but the man’s almost white hair stood out, as did the piercing look from wide eyes. He couldn’t read the gaze; a bit of surprise in it, but it sent his body signals that he didn’t want to deal with tonight.
Attractive, Harry thought, then frowned and looked away, concentrating on the long neck bottle. Halfway through his beer, Harry growled. Adam kept shooting him concerned glances, and that jack ass wouldn’t stop staring at him. The hand around the bottle turned white. He almost rose, and then Adam dropped another shot of whiskey in front of him.
“Take it,” he said with an eye roll at Harry’s narrowed eyes. “You definitely need it.”
Harry stared at it. A movement of white caught his attention, but he didn’t look over, just relieved that the man’s gaze wasn’t on him anymore. Harry took the shot, and then pulled out his wallet, dropped a twenty on the bar and left.
His way to the bar hadn’t been impeded, but trying to get out was something else. It was the peak of the night, and bodies clogged the way to the door. He focused his eyes on the door and politely but firmly detached himself from women’s arms. The first gasp of city air filled his lungs. The bar was not the respite he thought it would be. He needed to walk.
A throat cleared behind him, and he spun.
The blond from the bar leaned against the iron railing. He was taller than Harry, probably about six feet. His body was wrapped in black jeans and a blood red shirt. Harry didn’t know why, but he knew it was silk. Pale skin showed through where the top button was left open. His hair was left wild, city wind caressing it across the red silk that covered broad shoulders. Gray blue eyes roved about him a bit, and then came the smile; pretentious, powerful. Annoying. A smirk more than a smile. Harry fought the impulse to shiver.
“Warm night,” the man muttered, a slight accent to his voice that Harry thought he imagined.
Harry scoffed and turned. He took a step away.
That scathing voice said, “Not in mood for conversation?”
This time the British accent was strong. It wasn’t the Irish, cockney slur, but dignified and stern, despite the playful tone.
“No.”
Laughter made him stop and turn back around. The man pushed off from the railing. Harry couldn’t help but watch him as he glided over. He only moved five steps but Harry would have paid him to walk more.
He shook his head and then met those gray blue eyes again. Another smirk firmly in place.
“I’m not in the mood for this,” Harry said. “Maybe another night when I don’t feel like killing half of New York City.”
“Killing, shagging, just two different forms of mind blowing fulfillment.”
Harry couldn’t help it and laughed. Then his sensibilities returned. “Nice chatting with you -”
“Draco,” the man said.
Harry raised his eyebrows.
“That’s my name. Draco Malfoy.”
“The name matches the pompous persona. Well done, but you’ll have to get your shagging elsewhere.”
The smile/smirk turned to a longing and hungry grin. “Must I? Funny how you automatically think that’s what I’m after.”
“You’ve been nothing but obvious.”
This brought laughter. “I know how to get what I want.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I’m good at refusing.”
“A challenge,” and those blue-gray eyes sparkled.
“You don’t even know my name.”
Draco’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.
Finally, Harry rolled his eyes. He thought briefly of lying, but then couldn’t and said, “Harry Potter.”
The eyes flashed with victory, but Draco said, “The name matches the average, dispensable, classic New Yarker. Well done.”
“Well, Draco, it’s been fun. See ya later.”
Harry turned to go, and then looked back when Draco said, “Hey.” He held out a white card, but Harry didn’t reach to take it.
“Just in case,” Draco said, another smirk firmly in place.
Another eye roll, but Harry snatched the business card out of those pale hands. He turned before he could really appreciate the smooth skin that grazed his fingers.
After only five steps, that British voice said, “You lack the finesse, Potter, but you swing a mighty fine swagger with that arse.”
Harry didn’t turn about but hurried his footsteps.
The walk did nothing to appease him. Anger at this current case made thinking difficult. If only Barnes would just do something stupid, ANYTHING stupid, and Harry could nail him. But the man was smart. Not the first smart man Harry had brought down, but one of the most conniving. Even with a search warrant for his home and office, Harry couldn’t find any evidence that his girlfriend had, as he said, just up and left him. But Bella, according to family, wasn’t one to go more than three or four days without asking for money. No one had heard from her for three weeks.
He took the stairs up to his apartment, unlocked the door and threw his keys onto the small table by the door. His wallet followed. The white card fluttered, this way and that, before settling on the floor. Harry smiled and picked it up.
The business name was Malfoy Enterprises. Draco Malfoy was listed as Acting CEO. CEO? That man had barely looked twenty-one. An address from uptown, phone and fax number, an email address. On the back was a different number. A cell number if the prefix was any indication.
The walk had been a disaster; the bar had been a disaster. Maybe he did just need to get laid. He gave himself a shake. Not during a case. It always distracted him when he was working a case. He set the business card by his wallet and then went to shower.
Harry kept his eyes to the floor, ignoring his reflection as long as he could. Sometimes he had the sinking feeling that it watched him, just waiting to spurt out insults about his features. The scar was the first one, the lightning shaped symbol of his parents’ death when he was only one. There were other scars from abusive relatives, fights at school, and injuries from lacrosse. He stripped, revealing more of them. The one from his rookie year on the force. He told people it was a bullet wound just because, but his partner had stabbed him with a pencil. It took a long time to get the lead out of him. Scars from scrapes and tangles with hooligans trying to run away from him.
Life as a cop wasn’t easy, but it was something he felt he always wanted. A bit of authority, but not enough to really be noticed. He spared a glance for his bright green eyes and then popped out his contacts. The world went blurry.
He turned the shower temperature up higher than normal, trying to get rid of the stress of the day. His hair was getting long again, he’d have to cut it back to above his ears or Randall would give him one. Randall was always looking for a reason to bust Harry’s ass, but Harry knew he was a damn good cop. And Randall was just piss and wind.
That single thought of annoyance, brought up another, but less source, as gray-blue eyes and white-blond hair filled his vision.
He needed to rip up that business card.
---/---
Wind blows in his face. Sun comes in snatches, blinding him and then warming him as he soars around. Despite his concentration, a thrill of exhilaration flies through him. This is life. This is breath. A glitter catches his eye. This is the point of everything. He dives after it, knowing that he will get there before that streak of white-blonde hair below him.
---/---
Harry jerked awake. Another flying dream.
But there had never been anyone else in those. He knew that bit of pale hair though, and shivered. Yeah, maybe he should have just shagged that Malfoy. He kept seeing that hair everywhere.
His phone rang in the dark, and he jumped. A bit edgy. He took a steeling breath, and answered, “Potter.”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, Kat, you didn’t.”
“You need to get laid.”
He rolled his eyes at his dark bedroom. Kat Saunders, his sometimes-partner, always-irritator. Another relationship gone sour, but that’s because Harry had given up on women at that point. Kat hadn’t minded, and they still shagged once in a while.
Shagged? Again? He shook his head to clear out that smirk from his mind.
“ - know, I know. You don’t get involved when you’re on a case.”
“That better be why you’re calling at the butt crack of dawn,” Harry said with a growl.
She laughed. “Like I would have dared otherwise.”
“What have you got for me?”
“Bella’s ex-boyfriend.”
Harry almost dropped his phone.
“Yep, we found him. He wasn’t very cooperative, but we’re holding him for something else that we can’t feasibly charge him for, so you better get down here and - ”
“I’m already on my way,” he said and disconnected the call. And he was, he’d stood and flipped on the lights before Kat was half way through. Finally, something good. Finally, something worthwhile. Harry didn’t shower, but threw on clothes, grabbed keys, phone and wallet and barreled out the door.
He shouldn’t have been so excited. The interview didn’t go his way and Mutton, as he said he preferred to be called, didn’t know where Bella was. They let him stew in the interview room for hours, asking again and again, but in the end, Kat was right, and they couldn’t hold him. It didn’t make sense to Harry, they’d been trying to talk to him since Bella disappeared. Mutton didn’t give him a reason for not saying why he hadn’t just cooperated to begin with. That was promising. It meant that Mutton knew something, no matter what he said.
The night shift was on, and a fresh cup of coffee landed on Harry’s desk. Coffee splattered onto his paperwork He jerked alert, and then smiled up at Kat.
“Jumpy, Potter?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he admitted and then wished it back.
“You need to get some sleep.”
“He needs to get laid,” a uniform said from across the room.
Harry flipped the guy off without turning in his seat. “You just want me, Sorenson.”
“Harry,” Kat muttered.
He looked up and grinned. Kat was gorgeous with waves of brown hair, green eyes. Currently her white teeth had a hold of one of her luscious lips, face set with worry. Harry didn’t care about the flippant remark. Randall wasn’t there and Sorenson wasn’t one of his flunkies.
“All of that will be here tomorrow morning,” Kat said.
Harry picked up the concern in her voice and decided not to fight with her. If he tried, she’d just sit there, so perfectly pressed against his desk and distract him until he went home.
“You win, Inspector,” he said.
“Take him to your place, Kat,” Sorenson said. “Calm him down.”
He put his arm around Kat and just as they were passing Sorenson’s desk, he grabbed Kat’s ass and then said, “I’m gay and I still have a better chance than you ever will.”
“Potter!” Kat shouted.
They shared a cab toward his place, but she denied the invitation up, even after he apologized for making her feel bad.
Home was bad, home was lonely. Harry tried to watch TV, he tried to read, he tried to shower. He was too high strung and ended up pacing.
Something was wrong, there was something big just beyond his fingertips. Something he missed. He couldn’t even tell if it had to do with the Barnes case or not. He always trusted his instincts. Whatever it was, it wasn’t here in his apartment. He shot a glance at the clock. Almost midnight. He grabbed his jacket and went outside. He didn’t mean to go to Pubbles, but his feet knew the route better than his brain did.
Bodies filled the bar, loud music blasted from the speakers. He almost turned around, but Adam caught his eye and gestured to him with a shot glass. Harry sighed, and against his better judgment, waded his way to the bar.
After taking the shot, Adam leaned in and said loudly in his ear, “That blond that was making eyes at you is back.”
Harry groaned.
“He’s been here the last four nights looking for you. He’s upstairs. I told him I’d tell you to go talk to him if you showed up.”
Harry gave him desperate eyes. Adam smiled and shook his head, completely unrepentant.
“Sorry, man, but he’s a customer, and pays for his drinks. You don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to go upstairs, but honestly, you -”
“Need to get laid, I know,” Harry finished. “Apparently, you’re not the only one that’s noticed.”
Adam laughed. He fixed a drink and put it, plus a beer, in front of him. “Here, that’s what he’s been ordering. Go take it to him.”
“But -”
That’s as far as Harry got before Adam turned his back, flicking his hands in dismissal. Harry took a deep breath, grabbed both of the drinks and stood. His mind ignored the smirk in his head and told the rest of him to calm down. He was going to talk to this Draco, and find out how the hell a mere kid was a CEO.
He was still climbing the stairs when he met gray-blue eyes. Lips, flush against his pale skin, turned into a smirk. That smirk made Harry pause, not literally, but he noted it and wondered for a moment what it hid. He knew enough about interrogation that people had masks they hid behind.
Harry set the drink in front of Draco and then sat in the booth.
“I was about to leave,” Draco said in disdain.
“I’m not stopping you,” Harry replied.
“I’ve been waiting for you for four days, why would I leave once you’re here?”
“You’re not one for directness, Malfoy.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
Harry shrugged. He wasn’t really sure. “Instinct. I’m a cop, I deal with all types of people, and you learn how to read them.”
Draco smiled. “So I’m being direct, so what? That just means that I know I don’t have to try to get what I want from you. You’ll cave. Just thinking about it will be enough to make you crumble.”
Harry scoffed.
“What’s the matter? Scared, Potter?”
Harry smiled, and easily replied, “You wish, Malfoy," almost like he'd done it before.
Draco’s blue eyes glistened with amusement. His lips quirked in a smile that he hid quickly. Harry watched as those lips settled on the rim of the glass. A bit of clear liquid quickly disappeared. A pink tongue licked the rim of the glass. Harry knew it was a ploy to make him look up, but he didn’t, not until the lips moved and the glass clinked against the table.
Lust settled into Draco’s eyes, now more gray than blue. That look managed what the tongue hadn’t, and Harry blushed. He refused to look away from that smirk.
“So tell me, Harry, how does a tough, New York City cop be gay?”
“How does a pain in the ass like you get to be CEO of a company?”
“Acting CEO,” he corrected quickly. “It’s my father’s firm, but he’s currently incapacitated.”
“In what way?”
Draco’s eyes flashed, a brief moment, before that mask came back.
“Okay, so you don’t want to talk about it. How do you know I’m a cop?” Harry said.
Draco rolled his eyes. “You’ve left me here for four bloody nights. I’ve been talking to Adam. He says some wonderful things about you.”
The lick of lips that came with that made Harry grin. He took a sip of beer, and then said, “I'm gay because I was abused in junior high and decided I liked it. The jack asses never got in trouble for it, so maybe that’s a bit of why I’m a cop, but honestly, I just like the anonymity of the job. I get to help people, but I don’t necessarily stand out.”
“Oh, you stand out,” Draco crooned, “with those fiery green eyes and that body that is currently over clothed.”
Draco seemed that much younger to him all of sudden. “How old are you?” Harry asked.
“Younguns aren’t your thing, huh?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. Did this ... git, really just say that? Did he just call him a git?
Draco’s laughter curbed his confusion. “I’m twenty-five. And you, Mr. Responsible?”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am. And you?”
“Same.”
“And what else do you do besides being a cop?”
Harry sighed. “You know what, ferret -”
“What did you just call me?” His eyes were narrowed again.
“A ferret. Guess I should have gone with a weasel.”
“Hey, I haven’t done anything.”
“I know. That’s why I’m mad. I didn’t walk up those stairs with the intention of playing the let’s get to know one another game.”
“Fair enough.” This time he leaned forward, a lustful gleam in his eye. “So what else do you do besides being a cop?”
“Why? Do you prefer being in charge of the nightstick?”
His smile was fleeting, but then he shook his head. “Not very original, Potter. I hope you have other talents.”
Harry downed his beer and stood up. “Only one way for you to find out.”
“Told you I was good at getting what I wanted.”
“I stopped resisting.”
Harry led the way down the stairs. He caught Adam’s eye. When Adam grinned at him, Harry flipped him off. They stepped out into the cool air, and then Harry headed to his apartment.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Draco demanded.
“Home.”
Draco made a noise of disbelief.
“I thought you were coming with me.”
“We never did discuss location.”
“You mean with that tired line of ‘your place or mine’? Sorry, Malfoy, but I live two blocks that way. I’m in no mood to wait for a cab or to drive downtown to wherever it is that you live.”
“Eager, huh?”
“Frustrated.”
“Well, we should bloody well talk about parameters. You don’t seem like the type to bottom, and I’m always in charge.”
“Don’t worry. You can bottom and be in charge at the same time.”
Malfoy laughed. “Too true, but I don’t bottom.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“Okay, so I rarely bottom.”
“Nice try.”
“So you have me all figured out, Potter?”
“Sure do. You’re Daddy’s little boy, wherever Daddy is. Chances are, you either haven’t told him you’re gay, or he already knows and isn’t happy with you about it. You bottom because of some strange, fucked up childhood where no one ever loved you enough and--”
“That’s quite enough,” Draco whispered.
Harry chanced a glance at him. He was looking at the ground. They walked in silence.
“Are you sure we’ve never met before?” Draco asked, grey eyes suddenly meeting his green ones.
Harry almost said yes, of course, he knew him. It felt right, but he was sure he’d never met a handsome, British man. “I would have remembered meeting a blond as irritating and gorgeous as you.”
The spark came back to his eyes as he smiled.
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry continued. “I’m good at figuring people out. I’m a cop, remember? It’s what I do.”
Harry opened the glass door to his building. The security guard looked up, nodded and then looked back at his magazine. As they bypassed the elevators, Harry stole another glance at Draco. He seemed a bit confused.
“They get stuck a lot,” Harry said. “And I’d much rather do this in my apartment than in an elevator.”
The security guard snorted.
Part 2: A Reoccurrence of Dreams
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