Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Library of Hades	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4439 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Six—Striving Onwards

            Draco’s kiss was hungry enough to sear the inside of Harry’s mouth. Harry kissed back, though, because this was his idea as much as Draco’s and he wanted to prove that, and Draco followed him into their bedroom with hot, languid eyes and grasping hands.

            Harry stepped towards the bed, but shook his head when Draco wanted to follow. “Let me take some time to get your clothes off, for once,” he whispered. “We’re always flinging them off as though a twisted is right behind us.”

            Draco nodded, the motion as slow as Harry could have wished, and then turned in a circle, his arms extended, his Auror robes flowing around him.

            In silence, Harry stepped up and started to take them off Draco. His fingers fumbled, but Draco made no sound; he remained still now with his head tilted back and his pulse fluttering in the base of his throat. Harry caressed the skin above the pulse with a faint, fugitive motion of his hand. Draco shifted his hips, but said nothing, and his eyes remained shut.

            Harry touched him as he took off the robes, as he took off the thin shirt and trousers that he found underneath them. Scars gleamed here and there on Draco’s skin, and bruises on his knees, from where he had fallen to the floor beside Macgeorge. A thick, blue-black patch glowed on his shoulder, and Harry kissed it, seeing in his mind’s eye where Draco had fallen beneath the twisted’s assault this morning.

            Draco shivered. Harry paused, smiled, then explored the bruise with his tongue again. Draco hissed, and pressed closer.

            Harry went a bit faster after that, but not much. Draco’s pants were the last things to go, and by that time, Draco was shivering continuously, his legs locked as though he would fall to the floor otherwise, his stomach muscles taut when Harry touched him. Harry paused and eyed him from top to toe. Draco wasn’t as pale as Harry had sometimes thought he was when seeing only the skin of his face and hands, but he was just as lean, a shimmering greyhound, a predatory cat.

            Harry waited until Draco took a hitching breath that would probably come out in words, and then reached down and began to play with Draco’s crotch and arse. Draco drew in his breath completely this time, and held it there. Harry smiled up at him and went on playing, hands roaming and pinching and tweaking. When he slid a finger up into the crack of Draco’s arse, Draco shuddered and spread his legs.

            Harry rose, kissed him, and cast the first of the charms he would need.

*

            Draco had to admit this was new. Usually, by the time he got to this point, his partner was naked, too, and they were both flat on the bed, or kneeling on the bed, at least. Draco couldn’t keep from tensing whenever Harry’s robes whisked past him and he remembered that Harry stood there looking at him, fully-clothed.

            At least there was the sound of buttons now. Harry would be taking his robes off. Draco turned his head towards him, panting, and didn’t care if it looked desperate. He was getting to that point—

            And then Harry’s slick fingers slid up his arse again, and Draco rose on his toes despite himself. Harry said, “Hush,” in a voice tinged with laughter, but it wasn’t the kind of laughter that could make Draco blush. He listened intently to it instead, and wondered if he would find the memory comforting or arousing later.

            From the sounds of it, Harry had his robes loose now. Draco easily could have opened his eyes and made sure, but he didn’t want to.

            Harry kissed him suddenly, shockingly, his tongue pressing in and down. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s chest, locking him in place, and they kissed until Draco felt submerged, and his cheeks had definitely flushed, just like the rest of him. He ground his erection against Harry’s leg to emphasize the point. Harry laughed again, without words this time, and cast a charm that Draco knew from experience would rip the rest of the clothing off him.

            As Draco drifted in the middle of the underwater sensation, he felt Harry step behind him. He started to relax his legs, thinking Harry would shove him forwards and let him fall over the bed.

            Instead, Harry began to surge and push into him with his fingers while standing upright behind Draco. Draco gasped in surprise and caught himself with his hands on the edge of the bed, nearly slipping off the slick sheets that he’d persuaded Harry to put there.

            “Not what you expected, is it?” Harry whispered into his ear, his fingers still working steadily. Only when he listened did Draco catch the ragged edge to Harry’s breath and become sure that this was affecting Harry as much as it was him.

            “No,” Draco whispered back. The words came out of the portion of his chest that didn’t feel tight and constricted, consumed. He sagged back against Harry, because if he was going to fuck Draco he should bear Draco’s weight, and Harry chuckled and caught him, only swaying in place a little.

            Then Harry pushed inside him. Draco waited for a long moment, not sure if he should shudder or push forwards or push back, not sure how much experience Harry might have with this sort of thing, not sure of anything.

            Then Harry said, “Oh,” in his own voice of discovery, and Draco decided that it would be all right, always that, no matter what happened. He stretched an arm back and curved it around Harry’s shoulders, tugging him closer, down, seeking and finding Harry’s mouth after a moment of confused encounter with chin and cheek.

            Then he did his best to stand upright as Harry began to push forwards.

            It was punishingly exhilarating.

*

            Harry had dreamed of this a lot, if with Lionel at first. But for the last few months, all his dreams had been of Draco, and he had been sure that he’d thought of every possible combination of warmth and wonder and pleasure that he’d feel with him.

            Dreams burned to ashes in the face of the reality. Harry had meant to hold back at first, to hesitate and let Draco set the pace instead of doing it. But his hips had a mind of their own, and set a pace almost brutal enough to knock Draco over. Harry had to cling to him, and meanwhile, their bodies swayed back and forth, following the speed of their heartbeats.

            Draco laughed aloud. Harry knew his laughs, and this wasn’t the sneering, mocking one he used when Harry missed the point, or the sneering, mocking one he used when someone else spread rumors about them, or the sneering, mocking one that he used when retelling a scandalous joke. It was loud, private, free.

            Harry finally got one arm into position around Draco’s waist, where he thought it might work better than his shoulders to keep Draco from falling over, and fucked him faster.

            Draco shoved back in response. Okay, he liked that, Harry thought, and licked sweat off the back of Draco’s neck, then off the tip of his own nose when it started to fall. He was panting so hard that his vision blurred. He leaned in and started adding to the rhythm of his thrusts with his whole body.

            Draco laughed again, and kissed him, and then fought to stay upwards as they staggered to the side. Harry caught him and balanced him again, and they were surging along, united in a way that Harry hadn’t ever dreamed of, chasing down the same goal.

            It ached. It made Harry want to laugh and punch Draco on the shoulder and collapse on the bed. But he thrust, and thrust, and didn’t collapse, and Draco began to shake in his arms, his teeth shut on the long, vibrant hisses that had begun to escape from him.

            Harry hesitated for a moment, calculated the angles in his mind, and then reached down and gave Draco’s crotch a quick stroke, as much pressure as his hand could offer without overbalancing them.

            From the way Draco shot forwards, balancing on his toes, and thrust against Harry’s grip, it was more than enough.



            Harry felt him start to come, and almost closed his eyes, sighing. But then he leaned forwards and kissed Draco, and that made Draco give a desperate sound and squeeze and thrust at the same time, fighting for balance, fighting for attention, fighting for something that Harry didn’t even know if he could name—

            And Harry came.

            No choice, no chance to change it. It happened. And Harry reeled and at last dropped both of them on the carpet, because his chances of holding them both up through that were also utterly gone.

            Draco groaned beneath him as they landed. Harry stroked his hair and shook. Then he cleared his throat, unable to sound casual, but hoping that he at least sounded concerned about what had happened to Draco. “Are you—all right?”

*

            Draco checked the response that he wanted to make. Because it would come out too harsh or too languid, either way, and what he felt was neither, even considering the way that Harry had landed on top of him and driven all the air out of him.

            What he felt was brilliant.

            Draco stretched his arms, up and down and sideways, and opened one eye to watch Harry’s face looming into view. “More than all right,” he said. “But now, I’d like to stand up and go to bed. And then we could see about doing this again sometime before we return to the Ministry.”

            Harry smiled. As he rose and held out a hand to Draco, he was still doing it, and Draco’s only thought was that he couldn’t have smiled like this in front of Lionel Vane. Because then Vane would have forgotten all about supposedly being straight and gone with Harry, just to enjoy more of that smile. And then there might never have been a chance for Draco to see it.

            He tugged Harry into a long, deep kiss before they took to the bed, and maybe he was able to put the words he missed into that kiss, because Harry gave him another, deeper version of that smile, and then they bounced on the springs, and Draco gave himself over to an evening of pure enjoyment, without worrying about the case.

            Harry and I should do this more often.

*

            Harry sighed and checked another name off the list as he and Draco walked away from the flat in which Sarah Offred lived. They had interviewed every woman in the wizarding world who had a name similar to Sarah Offer, and although Harry still retained the impression that “offer” in the twisted’s message was a verb instead of part of a name, he couldn’t have rested if they hadn’t done it. “Well, now we’re moving on to witches with the first name Sarah in general,” he muttered.

            Draco said nothing. Harry looked up at him and found him gazing thoughtfully into space, his hand rubbing his left arm. Harry thought for a minute that he had twisted that arm when Harry landed on top of him yesterday, but recognized the position of his hand after a minute, and swallowed, focusing.

            “Does your Dark Mark tell you anything?” he whispered.

            Draco shook his head. “Not that. But it sometimes helps me to think.” He faced Harry. “Moxon and Lugar had nothing special about them, particularly. And then the word unregarded appeared again and again in the message that Macgeorge took from Moxon’s skin. I think that might be part of what the twisted looks for.”

            “Unregarded people?” Harry asked. “Ordinary ones?”

            Draco asked. “And then he might think in his insane way that he’s doing them a favor. He publishes the truth of their lives on their skin and makes people read it and pay attention to them. Not to mention the attention they get through the newspaper articles about these crimes.”

            Harry stared at him. Then he said, “In that case, how are we going to find him, if he simply chooses people that he thinks aren’t famous?”

            Draco smiled with half his mouth. “I don’t know. It does run rather counter to the way that we expected him to work, doesn’t it? But I have an answer—if I’m right—to why he didn’t use his flaw on us when he met us.”

            “He knows who we are,” Harry said. “We’re too famous.”

            Draco nodded. “Always assuming that I’m right and not simply going off a coincidence of the victims and the wording, then that’s probably it. He couldn’t gain anything from telling the stories of our lives on our skins. Everyone already knows that, or too many people, anyway. Nothing is unique for his Dark little gift to exploit.”

            Harry winced as he thought about that. A man they still didn’t know—or it might be a woman, but what they had so far made him think it was a man—who would strike everywhere and nowhere, at victims that he knew but no one else had reason to pay much attention to, in ways that they didn’t know how to counter because they didn’t get the chance to see them in action instead of see their results.

            There was no way to stop him except by catching him at the scene of a crime, perhaps. Did that mean that Harry had to sit back and hope for another vision of a murder, so that they had a greater chance of catching him?

            “There’s another way,” he said, and felt Draco tug on his arm. They had come to a stop in the middle of a busy street in Hogsmeade, and Harry shook his head and followed Draco to the shelter of a large house with dangling eaves. No one seemed to be home, or at least no one opened their doors and peered out suspiciously at them.

            “What other way?” Draco leaned towards him, his face flushed, and Harry tried not to remember the way it had been flushed with passion just a few hours ago. “What aren’t you telling me?”

            Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re paranoid, Draco. I just had the idea. I wouldn’t have hidden it from you.”

            Draco tensed against him, then relaxed, and Harry remembered that he wasn’t the only one with some reason not to trust his partner. He gave Draco a quick kiss to reassure him, and said, “We could place all women named Sarah under surveillance. For someone with my past, and my name, and your favors in the Ministry? They would do it.”

            Draco tensed, then broke away from Harry and shook his head. “I traded in most of the favors that I had left to let us take that holiday,” he murmured. “I don’t have enough to call in something like this.”

            Harry nodded. “But I might. If I give the candid interviews that Skeeter still thinks I owe her.”

            Draco sneered. “I know that she thinks she has power, but she can’t pull all the strings in the Aurors to get us the wizards that kind of surveillance would take.”

            “Then maybe we can do something else,” Harry responded instantly, his mind leaping to another plan. “Give Skeeter the interview, and ask her to do a special article on witches named Sarah at the same time, to raise general awareness in the public that that’s the victim the twisted is looking for. If those women seem famous enough to him, it’s possible that he won’t go after them.”

            “That assumes my idea is correct in the first place,” Draco murmured, but his eyes were alive with arctic light, and he had stopped slumping against the building. In fact, he was looking at Harry with distinct interest.

            Harry smiled at him. “Exactly. But we have to take some risks, try some ideas that aren’t confirmed yet. We already took a risk with what you asked Macgeorge to do.” He wouldn’t mention the word “necromancy” in public, even if the chances that someone would overhear them were small. “Let’s take this one. I don’t mind giving Skeeter the interview. It won’t make me any more enemies in the Ministry than I already have.”

            “I think you underestimate how many people are willing to be your enemy,” Draco murmured, but spread his hands and bowed his head when Harry stared at him. “However, you’re right that it’s a better plan than any I have right now, and we don’t have another reliable way to locate Sarah before the twisted kills her.”

            Harry nodded, his mind already moving ahead. “Skeeter’s going to want details of the case,” he murmured. “And names.”

            “We can give her the names of the victims,” Draco said. “Those are already circulating through the population, with the other Aurors who investigated Lugar’s case first and the interviews we did with Moxon’s family members and Weasley.” Harry started for a moment, then remembered that he meant Ginny. “And we can come up with a name for the twisted if you want. I leave that to you.” He bowed and gestured towards Harry, his hand coming out in a graceful flourish. “Come up with something worthy of my cleverness, that’s all I ask.”

            Harry found himself grinning, despite the ridiculousness of what Draco said. “Sometimes I think that you say things like that only to watch me laugh,” he murmured.

            Draco smiled. “Not the worst ambition I’ve had.”

*

            Draco leaned quietly against the wall as he watched Harry handle Skeeter. Harry was more skilled at it than Draco would have thought, although of course they had consulted about what he would say before he said it.

            Of course, Harry was good at many things that he wouldn’t allow anyone to say that he was good at. Draco shook his head. He could speculate on how Harry had learned that attitude, but it wasn’t important at the moment.

            What was was watching the heads of the Aurors who peered around the door of the Socrates office and stared. Skeeter had come into the Ministry as grandly as though she was sailing on a flying carpet, of course, her sharp nose lofted to poke holes in any pretense of secrecy. That had attracted attention, and so had the way that Harry had come to meet her in the Atrium, shaking her head as gravely as though they’d never been enemies.

            Macgeorge sat at her desk, with her partner Isla Rudie at the one directly behind. Draco had already given her the vial of blood obtained from Lugar’s home, and she was staring at it with a lens. Skeeter had ignored her, probably because she assumed it was a normal Auror procedure rather than a prelude to necromancy, and Rudie had ignored her, probably because Macgeorge had already told her what she was doing with the vial.

            “But this wizard can skin his victims alive?” Skeeter asked, leaning towards Harry with fluttering eyelashes. If Draco hadn’t known that Skeeter’s one true love was fame, he would have had to do something about that. “Isn’t that terribly dangerous for you and Auror Malfoy to face?”

            “It’s always dangerous,” Harry said, and turned his head to smile at Draco. Draco straightened up and gave him the smile they’d planned on, a smile that warmed Harry’s face and body, from the way he sat up in response. “But that doesn’t make it any less our job. We want to catch and imprison the dangerous wizards so that the ones who aren’t dangerous don’t suffer.”

            Skeeter crooned and wrote. Draco was sure that the words would appear in a different form in her final article, but as long as she wrote something that resembled it, that would be fine. And he was sure that she had coveted this interview for too long to alienate Harry by deliberately distorting the facts.

            When she looked up again, her face had taken on that terribly grave expression that apparently fooled some of her readers. “Do you know who the next victim will be, Auror Potter?” she asked.

            Harry lowered his head and sighed. “The only clue we have is the name Sarah,” he said. “We’ve interviewed a few witches named Sarah, but we had no idea that Smoke and Mirrors would strike at the next victims before he did.” Smoke and Mirrors was the name he had decided on for the twisted, given the sooty mask of magic that seemed to protect the twisted when they met in battle. It wasn’t, Draco had decided, the worst one he could have chosen. “We want witches named Sarah to be careful in the next few days, and not trust anyone they don’t know. Can you issue that warning?”

            Skeeter’s chest inflated to dangerous proportions. “Of course I can,” she said. “Shall I include that part in my article on you, or write a separate article?”

            Harry leaned forwards and widened his eyes. “Could you make two different articles, and try to get both of them on the front page? That means we could have two warnings, twice over, since I know many people will read anything you write.”

            Draco choked, but Skeeter had missed the neat insult in those words. She nodded, her head visibly swollen. “Of course I can,” she repeated. “Two articles, then.” She scribbled again, and began to ask Harry more questions.

            Draco relaxed, and let his gaze drift elsewhere. Macgeorge was examining the vial of blood with a different lens now, one made of green crystal. Draco didn’t know what she saw through it, but then, he didn’t know much about necromancy.

            And Rudie had abandoned her paperwork to gaze at Macgeorge with folded hands and a wrinkled brow.

            Draco narrowed his eyes and began to drift in that direction. Was it possible that she didn’t know about her partner’s experiments with her flaw? Dangerous, perhaps even suicidal. He knew the instant Harry had one of his visions; Harry knew when he was sensing Dark magic. Of course, it might help that their flaws manifested more visibly and less voluntarily than the way that Macgeorge talked to the dead.

            Macgeorge laid down the lens and stood up with the vial of blood, walking towards the door. Skeeter, absorbed in talking to Harry, didn’t notice. Draco was glad of that, at least. The less attention drawn to their necromancer Auror, the happier he would be.

            Rudie watched her go, then snapped her head around and glared at Draco. Draco looked back without flinching, but he did want to blink when Rudie stood up and stalked towards him. She was the youngest Auror in the Socrates Corps, and a Muggleborn partnered with Macgeorge, a pure-blood who could intimidate some of Draco’s peers into shutting up. It said much about her concern for her partner that she would come to speak with Draco, whom she usually avoided.

            “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Rudie demanded. Draco flicked a glance at Skeeter, and Rudie rolled her eyes but lowered her voice. “I know that you were watching her, but you didn’t look puzzled about what she was doing with that blood.”

            “I know what she’s doing,” Draco said quietly. “Helping us in the investigation on the case. Just the way Harry is with this interview.”

            Rudie straightened up, and her face went grave. “As long as you don’t consume her in the work,” she said, and started to turn away.

            That was far enough from what Draco had thought she would say that he moved in front of her. “Explain what you mean.”

            Rudie half-smiled. “Now who’s attracting attention?” she murmured, because Skeeter had turned around in her chair at Draco’s sudden movement. Harry said something about his “personal life” then, and distracted Skeeter. “I mean,” Rudie continued, “that you both tend to consume yourselves in your work, you and Potter. Staying late, blaming yourselves when a victim dies, always killing or catching your target. I would prefer that you not draw Nicolette into your cases when we have ones of our own to work, and burn up her time and skill in what you should handle.”

            Draco nodded. “I think I can promise that we won’t.”

            “You think,” Rudie repeated, and walked towards her desk again.

            Draco held back his snort. It seemed that, even when they courted attention to what they were doing, as with the Skeeter interview, others would still want to know more than he was comfortable telling.

*

            SP777: Awesome! I’ll see what I can do about the character, then.

            Draco would have been in trouble if he hadn’t apologized; Harry was heading in that direction.

            And I already have the next few stories planned out.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Library of Hades