Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Too Close	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6387 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor profit from it. J.K. Rowling owns it

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author's note: I'm surprised - pleasantly, mind - at the amount of attention this fic has received so far, so here's the second chapter :)
Thanks to the following reviewers: starr; SP777 (You mean like a prequel? No, there isn't. This story stands on its own)
Warnings: drama; description of dead bodies; you know the usual
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 2
Two weeks later, a fifth body showed up in a small alley in Whitechapel. A man of nearly thirty years old with long, dark brown hair had been dumped near a container, propped up against the wall with his dead baby cradled in his broken arms, while his stomach and intestines were bared to the world; some of the intestines slipping out of the large, gaping gash, falling into large pool of dark red blood.
He had been about to become a single father and his only living relative had been his mother. Harry didn't think he would ever forget the almost inhuman, distraught scream that left the woman's mouth when she had to identify her own son.
"Maybe the killer lives in London?" Draco suggested hours later, when they were pouring once again over the various reports.
Harry looked at the list of places where they had found the bodies. "All bodies have been found near London so far," he murmured. "Sounds reasonable, but London is not exactly small."
"I know," Draco grumbled, jotting down something harshly on a paper. "But it's not like we have a lot of clues so far." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his cheek. "Had the mother something to say? Maybe her son going out with someone last night?"
"He did go out with some friends of his, but Baldwin and Ron have questioned them and they say that he left on his own around eleven p.m.," Harry replied, his eyes gliding over the testimony. "They haven't seen him since then and their alibis check out."
"So somewhere between him leaving his friends and going home, he must have encountered someone he knew," Draco muttered contemplatively, tapping the sharp end of his quill against the parchment. "Who would he trust to go with in the middle of the night?"
"I'd say he would go with a friend at that late hour, but all his friends were back at the pub," Harry answered and gripped some strands of his hair in frustrating, tugging at it.
"No boyfriend; friends all back in the pub; out late at night; nobody has seen anything … I have no clue how the fuck we're supposed to proceed from here. We literally have nothing to base us on, except that this bastard is targeting pregnant men," Draco growled and glared at his cold cup of tea.
"And it has to be someone who is familiar with all our victims, because their wands did not reveal any offensive or defensive spells casted right before their deaths," Harry added, lowering the testimony to stare blankly at the other files piled up on his desk.
"Do you think that the killer has made victims before these five?" Draco asked suddenly.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not completely following. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe the one we're searching has already been committed before for this sort of crime?" the blond wizard clarified and gestured at the files. "The pathologist said that the cuts were very precisely made, indicating a sort of expertise with it. The fact that we barely have any clue about the murderer can be because he learnt from past mistakes?"
"Hm, that could be," Harry said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his lips. "I'll ask Miranda whether there have been cases like this one before."
Miranda worked in the Auror Archive Department and was in the possession of such a great memory that she could instantly deliver information of every case that the Aurors had handled. If someone had been targeting pregnant men before, she would be able to give that information immediately.
When he rose up from his chair however – his arse felt numb; he would need to renew the Cushioning charm on the wooden chair with the weak excuse of a pillow fastened to it – the fire in their small fireplace flared up, turning into a dark green before it showed Hermione's head dancing into the flames.
"Hermione? Has something happened?" Harry asked concerned. She never bothered them through the Floo at their work, unless it was an emergency. And considering who was with her now, worry started to grow, making his hand automatically cover his wand.
"No, no, nothing happened," she quickly reassured him and then smiled wryly. "Look, I normally wouldn't bother you at your work, but I have no choice now. I got called into the office just now and obviously I can't leave Teddy alone here. Do you mind if he stayed at your office for a little while? It will be two hours at most and then I can take him back until you two are done."
"It's not like we have stake out now or a clue as to what to do next," Draco sighed and shrugged. "Plus you know how he will react if we ask him to babysit for a few hours." The corners of his mouth twitched.
Harry rolled his eyes and relaxed; his tense shoulders slumping down. "Sure, send him through," he smiled and hastily gathered all the files on his desk, making sure that no photos or papers were left behind.
It was one thing for his godson to know that his godfather chased criminals as worse as murderers, but it was a whole other thing for the young boy to actually see the evidence.
"Thanks, Harry," Hermione smiled gratefully and disappeared out of the fire.
Only a couple of seconds later Teddy nearly fell out of it, not meeting the floor with his face thanks to Draco's interference.
"Thanks, Uncle Draco," Teddy muttered; a blush of embarrassment colouring his cheeks.
"Well, you take after your godfather when it comes to Flooing gracefully, that's for certain," Draco teased, his smirk widening at the huff that escaped the young boy.
This time his hair was a very light blond and his eyes a sea green. His bag was slung over his shoulder and several papers stuck out of it, some already wrinkled.
"Do you have homework?" Harry asked, clearing a space on his desk so that his godson could work at the desk next to him.
Teddy wrinkled his nose and sighed. "Yes, a short essay for Potions," he grumbled, dumping his bag on the floor after throwing a distasteful glower at it.
"You better get started then," Harry smiled, placing a quill, some parchment and an inkwell in front of Teddy, after he had conjured another chair. "If you have questions, though, you're better off asking Draco."
"Listen to your godfather, Teddy. At times he can give sensible advice." Draco ducked right on time and the paper ball hit the wall behind him.
While Teddy worked on his essay – with a sour look marring his face – Harry left to the Auror Archive Department, trusting Draco to keep an eye on his godson.
The curly, brown haired woman looked up with a smile when he knocked on the open door.
"Harry, it's been a while," Miranda greeted him and closed a book she had been reading.
"I know," he smiled sheepishly and leant on her desk. "I'm busy with a case. I actually have a question for you."
"Ask away," she said, curiosity lightening up in her light blue eyes.
"Can you recall whether there have been cases in the past where a killer was targeting pregnant men?"
Her face lit up in understanding. "You've been placed on that case, huh?" she murmured and then looked contemplatively for a short while. She slowly shook her head; a slight grimace tainting her pink coloured lips. "Sorry, Harry, but as far as I know there hasn't been a case like this before. It's a unique one, that's for sure."
"Ah, thank you anyway, Miranda," he smiled, nodding at her.
"Good luck with that case," she told him sincerely and he left her to go back to her reading, while he walked back to the Auror Department, frustration simmering inside him.
Draco looked up as soon as he entered their office again. "What did she say?" he asked, his quill hovering above his parchment.
"As far as she remembers, there hasn't been a case like this one before," he informed him and raked a hand through his hair.
"So we're not searching for a convict or a copy-cat," Draco muttered, scowling at his paper.
"Uncle Harry?" Teddy spoke up; a contemplative look etched onto his face.
The dark haired wizard took his seat back at his desk, pulling a file towards him. "Hm? What?"
"When are you going to have a baby?" Teddy looked at him with wide, curious eyes; his fingers loosely wrapped around his quill. "You said you and Uncle Draco would be trying soon," he prodded.
Harry froze and looked wide eyed at Draco, who stared back helplessly. What on earth was he supposed to answer? He didn't want to give any details about the case to Teddy, but he also knew that the boy wouldn't let up until he had finally got an answer. Sometimes he wondered where Teddy got that stubborn streak from.
"Well, eh," he stammered and licked his lips, trying to come up with a plausible answer. "It's, it's like this …"
Thankfully Draco jumped to his rescue. "We can't try yet, Teddy, because we still have to get a potion and we haven't been able to find it yet," he answered calmly; his face nearly completely blank.
Teddy frowned and pouted. "So you won't have a baby soon?"
The dark haired wizard chuckled weakly and ruffled Teddy's hair. "No, sorry, Teddy. As long as we don't have that potion, we won't be able to try."
"That sucks," the young boy grumbled, scowling at his paper. "I wish you'll be able to find that potion soon. I want someone to play with."
"Me too, Teddy, me too," Harry murmured and he was aware of Draco's heavy look on him when he returned back to his work.
So he felt a bit bitter about having to put their plans on hold; that was only natural. Only normal after all. Thus they just had to catch that killer soon, so they could start on expanding their family.
Easier said than done of course.

The sixth victim was found behind a theatre in Finsbury, dumped against an iron gate. A Muggle had found him during the early morning hours and it was only thanks to a passing by witch that the Obliviators had been called on time to erase his memory, before he could go on blabbing to newspapers about a man who had been pregnant before he was gruesomely murdered.
The end of April announced a slightly milder temperature, but it was still dreary in the morning and a light drizzle coated everything and everyone who was outside.
After hastily Floo calling Andromeda, so that she could stay with Teddy, Harry and Draco quickly changed into their Auror uniform and Apparated to the scene, having received the coordinates through owl.
Ron, with large bags underneath his eyes and his hair resembling a bird's nest more than actual hair, was already at the scene, hiding a large yawn behind his hand.
"Good morning," he muttered, taking a sip from his coffee. "We have another victim. A Muggle found him first, but a witch was just passing by while she was jogging and she managed to Stun him, so that the Obliviators could do their job."
Well, that was at least one thing less they had to worry about.
"Let me guess," Draco drawled while they approached the scene where a tent was already erected. "No witnesses, right?"
Ron snorted, throwing his empty, plastic cup into the bin they passed. "How could you guess?"
They passed the large building in which the theatre was located and crossed the street to reach the tent. Both sides of the street had been closed off by wards, letting Muggles believe that the road was closed off due to maintenance of the pavement. Additional wards had been raised to keep out nosy reporters as well, who were eager to get a picture of the deceased and an interview with one of the Aurors present.
The pathologist was already examining the body when they entered the tent. The man – grey hair at his temples and wrinkles marring his forehead – looked up when he became aware of their presence.
Alfred Treeman sighed, jotting down some more observations on his paper. "Not a nice sight to meet first thing in the morning," he muttered, and made a sign with his finger to his assistant, who snapped a picture of the body.
Nausea was sneaking up on Harry when he laid eyes upon the victim. He had just been a boy; his very youthful face indicated that he couldn't have been older than eighteen. His light brown eyes stared blankly at the roof of the tent, some blood trickling down from the corners of his mouth. His arms – just like with all the previous victims – had been crossed in front of his chest and his baby had been dropped into them, still attached to him with the umbilical cord. This time the murderer had cut open his stomach vertically; the gash stopping right underneath his chest. His stomach had been brutally ripped open, causing almost all of his intestines to spill out on the ground, covering a very large space with his blood. A golden ring around his ring finger was speckled with his blood and shone dully in the light.
"His name was Benjamin Longgrass," Treeman murmured, shaking his head, while pity shone in his eyes. "Judging by the state of his body, I'd say he was murdered somewhere between eleven and one a.m. last night."
"Sir, there appears to be something underneath his fingernails," the assistant – a young woman sporting dark blue hair – remarked and all the Aurors in the vicinity tensed up.
So far they hadn't been able to gather one clue of the killer's identity – would they finally have something to work with?
The pathologist extracted whatever was underneath the young man's fingernails with a pair of tweezers and held it into the light. "Looks like he managed to scratch his killer," he announced and put the human tissue into a thin vial. "Gentlemen, I hope you can work with this little bit of DNA."
"That's more than we had before," Baldwin commented and accepted the vial, studying it warily. "We'll compare it to the DNA samples we've collected so far. Hopefully we have a match with one of them."
"I wish you luck," Treeman mumbled and went back to writing down all the exterior injuries he could see, before they would bring the body to the morgue for further examination.
Harry took a step closer, to see whether there was another clue on the victim's body – like hair for example – when the smell of the decaying body and the blood hit him unexpectedly in the face. A sudden bout of nausea rolled over him like a wave in the ocean and he stumbled back, hand clapped over his mouth, while he rushed out of the tent.
"Harry?!" Draco called out to him worriedly, but he ignored him and fled away from the god awful smell.
He had barely exited the tent when he fell down on his knees, lurched forwards and started retching, his meal of the night before forced back through his throat, burning the sensitive tissue. He gasped and retched again, his eyes clenched tightly while his stomach convulsed.
Hands were touching him, rubbing his back, but he was barely aware of them; everything narrowed down to the burning feeling in his throat, the nasty bitter taste in his mouth and his stomach that seemed intent on expelling everything that had been in it.
When he finally stopped throwing up, he gasped and coughed, grimacing when the bitter taste coated his tongue and palate.
"Here," Draco murmured and handed him a glass with cool water.
"Thanks," Harry rasped and took a careful sip, sighing in relief when the coolness of the water soothed his burning throat.
"What happened?" Draco knelt down next to him, keeping a hand on his lower back, while he gazed worriedly at his husband.
"I don't know," Harry mumbled, raising a shaky hand to wipe across his forehead, where cold sweat had formed. "I just suddenly felt nauseous when I smelt that body." He shuddered and closed his eyes; the scent of decay seemed to have wormed its way in his nose, making him almost retch again.
"You never had to throw up before when you saw a body," Draco pointed out; his eyebrows furrowed. "Do you feel ill?"
"Not really. No more than usual after throwing up," Harry replied, placing the now empty glass on the ground. Nausea had left him, but embarrassment was creeping up on him. Merlin, what would the others think of him now? Throwing up when you saw a dead body was normal – when it was your first murder case. Harry had got used to the awful stench being exuded from dead bodies – though he wished he hadn't had many opportunities to get used to that particular smell – but this time, his body had revolted against it. Maybe he had caught a bug and the stench had been the trigger?
"Maybe we should get you to the …"
Something moved in his peripheral vision and Harry whirled around, his wand already in his hand. He had just enough time to notice a cloaked person standing on the other side of the street, before the mysterious person – man? woman? – raised their arm and created a very familiar pattern in the air.
They were trying to set the tent on fire.
Barely having any time to think, Harry swished his own wand down harshly, calling up the strongest and biggest shield he could think of, that would protect both the tent and its occupants and them kneeling next to it.
The moment his magic rose up to create the shield with its generic metallic sheen to it, something inside Harry twisted painfully and he choked out a whimper of pain, before everything turned black before his eyes.

An immaculate and unfortunately very familiar white ceiling greeted the dark haired wizard when he opened his eyes, his sight fuzzy and hazy. Someone had taken his glasses away.
When he struggled to sit up straight, a hand came down on his chest, gently, but firmly pushing him down again.
"No, Harry, you need to keep still for now," Draco's voice murmured from somewhere to the right of him.
"My, my glasses," Harry mumbled; his tongue feeling oddly numb for a couple of uncomfortable minutes.
"Here." A pair of glasses was carefully put on his nose.
Harry blinked, his vision becoming clearer now that he had his glasses back. "Why am I in Saint Mungos?" he asked confused, bringing a hand up to touch his forehead. His memory was fuzzy and it took him some time before he remembered that he was supposed to be on the scene of the murder.
Where someone had tried to set the tent on fire.
Fuck.
"Is everyone okay? Did …"
"Calm down, Harry!" Draco barked, pushing his panicking husband back into the narrow hospital bed. His grey eyes were darkened with wariness and worry. "Everyone is all right. Your shield was just in time."
"Did you get the person who wanted to set fire to the tent?" Harry demanded to know, vaguely aware of the heart monitor beeping shrilly in response to his increased heart rate.
Draco pursed his lips and his fingers tightened slightly around Harry's arm. "No, we didn't," he murmured; anger tainting his voice. "Before any of us could go after them, that person Apparated away."
"Fuck!" Harry collapsed back into the bed, glowering at the ceiling which seemed to mock him with its whiteness. He turned his head to look at the weary blond, sitting in one of the uncomfortable, creaky chairs the hospital was so fond of providing. "Why am I in the hospital?"
"You collapsed after you raised the shield," the blond wizard told him bluntly and he looked at Harry grimly. "Nothing we did managed to bring you back to consciousness, so I brought you here. The Healer has taken some blood to examine it. He should be back soon."
Harry stared blankly at his lover, his brain having difficulties processing the fact that he had collapsed after using a simple shield. Sure, he had collapsed before when he used too much magic for a too long time – one of the perils of being an Auror – but he hadn't used that much magic now. Why the hell had he collapsed?
A Mediwitch came bustling into the room and her blonde curls danced around her face when she whipped her head around as soon as she took notice of the fact that Harry was awake.
Her face lightened up. "Oh, Mister Potter, you're awake! I'll get Healer Thompson!" She practically ran out of the room in her eagerness to retrieve the Healer.
"I'm really starting to hate hospitals," Harry muttered and finally Draco allowed him to sit up straight against the thin pillow.
Draco snorted; his hand curling over Harry's. "It's not like I'm fond of them. Be glad that Kingsley managed to keep the reporters away from the hospital. We'll need the Floo if we want to get home without getting ambushed."
Green eyes eyed him shrewdly. "Home? We still have some hours left before our shift is done," he reminded the blond in case he had forgotten about it.
"Oh please, as if I'm letting you get back to work after collapsing like that." Draco scowled at him. "Shacklebolt ordered you to stay home for today as well," he added, almost sounding triumphantly.
It was Harry's time to glower at him. "Seriously, Draco, I feel fine! I'm not an …"
He was interrupted by the door opening once more, revealing Healer Thompson – the man who always tended to him whenever he landed in the hospital after an Auror's mission had gone awry.
"Hello, Mister Potter," Thompson greeted him with a gentle smile and looked through his papers. "You had almost beaten your own record of staying out of the hospital for three months." Amusement rung through his voice.
Harry relaxed; if Thompson was making jokes, it meant that whatever had caused him to pass out wasn't that serious. "You know me: I love this hospital," he retorted dryly.
"Hm, one would almost start assuming that," Thompson replied good-naturedly.
"Did you find out what caused Harry to collapse after he used the Iron Shield spell?" Draco asked impatiently, clearly not amused by their little banter. It could also be because Thompson still referred to Harry as "Mister Potter" instead of "Mister Malfoy-Potter". The blond could be very sensitive about that particular name change.
"Draco!" Harry hissed and gave him a reprimanding look, to which the blond only grunted.
"Yes, we did manage to discover what has caused Mister Potter to collapse," Thompson answered and looked up from his papers with a bright smile. "I suppose congratulations are in order, Mister Potter!"
Harry blinked, thrown off by the bright smile and the happy tone in his Healer's voice. "Congratulations?" he repeated bemused. "What for?"
"Well, Mister Potter, you're pregnant. Five weeks pregnant to be exact." Thompson offered them a large grin. "You're going to be parents in eight months!"
What. The. Fuck.

AN2: Does this ending count as a cliffhanger? I don't really think so, but what do I know? LOL Please leave your thoughts behind in a review! Should you notice a mistake, please point it out to me so that I can correct it!
See you all in the next chapter!
Cuddles
Melissa
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