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Serve and protect	By : Artemick Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Neville Views: 2668 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All the magic things and good characters and stuff in the Harry Potter fandom are owned by JK Rowling; I'ma making not a dime off it.

Chapter List
- 1-Serve and protect
- 1
Neville put his hand on his wand. He lifted a hand to his partner. "I'll take care of it."

                "There's two of us for a reason," Finnegan called.

                "Yeah, I can see him from here," Neville peered into the alley catch – a nook they knew to check periodically for drunks; they always managed to find it. The bend was midway between four popular bars, including the old standby Broomstick, still the most popular. If they ever needed a few more arrests for the month, they just swung by, picked em up.

                Neville peered down, watching a man totter away from the wall. He fell and got up again.

                "Long – "

                "He's got a tie and suit jacket – Ministry bloke. Look, I'll give him a word."

                "Too kind, Nev. You're too kind."

                Neville chuckled, walking into the alley. "Oi. You. Good evening there – "

                The man spun and tried to run.

                Neville had half a heart to just let him go, but the police training kicked in before he could make the decision. His toes dug in and set him off on a sprint. He was on the man in seconds. Grabbing him by the coat he pushed him against the building. "Calm down, sir."

                The man opened his hands. "I just had a drink."

                Neville let go of him abruptly. "You. Turn around then."

                "I can't."

                Neville stood back. "Cause you know what happens if you do."

                Finnegan gave a shout.

                Neville stuck his wand away. "Seamus. It's a friend of mine. I'm taking a break to get him home. Go on, eh? I'll meet you on ninth."

                "No worries. Hey, take off. It's nearly that time."

                "Really?"

                "Yeah, I got this one."

                Neville nodded.

                The man turned. He'd grown old. His face had filled out, taken color with age. His skin was thicker, more sun. His hair was brown. But his eyes, they were still silver.

                "Thank you," he panted.

                "You got a place to go, Malfoy?"

                "Yeah." Draco pointed, breathless. "Around there. Down the street. Flat in the Ironsworth building. First floor."

                "Well. Let's take a walk."

                "Yes. Officer." Draco said. Keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on Neville's uniform, he bent to gather his papers, briefcase, and outer robes. He pointed again, swallowing, and began to walk.

                Neville walked with him.

                They looked like friends, Neville realized, as they passed people. Off duty, coming home, and an off duty office worker.

                Neville cleared his throat. "You have a Ministry position now."

                "No," Draco whispered.

                "I'm not asking; I know you do. War criminals can't hold a government position after an kind of antisocial behavior charge, even for something as minor as public indecency."

                Draco sidestepped, to face him – it only highlighted how drunk he was; he looked like a fool. "That's why I'm so grateful. Really, thank you. And – and for the walk home."

                Neville nodded, staring at the ground and thinking of dead bodies. "What do you do there?"

                "Medical research. Potions. Right now, a project that would rebuild capillaries almost instantaneously – which sounds like nothing, but – "

                "Any wound or surgery that involved blood loss could be improved."

                "We have the legal team negotiating cross markets."

                "What's that?"

                "For the muggle world."

                Neville turned. Draco had put this forth eagerly and was watching him. He wanted a pat on the head.

                "I just – I want to keep my job."

                "Of course."

                Draco had some trouble hanging onto his wand long enough take down the wards on the door. He turned back, hanging onto the door jamb.

                "You're good then?" Neville touched his cap out of habit and turned.

                "Won't you come in? Please, let me – get you a cup of tea or something. You got off your shift, I can at least offer you…" Draco looked up, then smirked. "It'd be stupid to offer you a drink, after what you picked me up for, wouldn't it…"

                Neville laughed. "Not a bit. Love one. Yeah, I'll come up. Just for a minute."

                Draco jostled the door open.

                The place was small. The entrance hall was narrow, but the art was exquisite. Old oils of seascapes hung in frames proportioned for great dining halls. It looked like the den of an art thief.

                Draco offered to take his coat but Neville waved him off. "Nah."

                "At ease, sir."

                "It's alright," Neville said, keeping his hat on. He wandered by the fireplace.

                "There's Floo powder if you need to call your family," Draco said, putting his things aside on the counter. He took out two glasses and a carafe. "Say you'll be late. If you like."

                "No thanks," Neville said, watching him get out the ice and a bottle of scotch. He was a bit intimidated. He tended to drink light beer, if that. "Flatmates are used to me coming home late."

                Draco's brows drew in as he grinned. "I always – pictured you married by twenty, I suppose."

                Neville stopped himself from speaking. He'd found out a lot of things about himself. "Luna and I are still friends. It was nothing ugly. She's actually on a snipe hunt over in the States. Got herself quite a menagerie. Found a new subspecies."

                Draco seemed to have no words.

                "Should you have one?" Neville asked, taking the glass.

                Draco looked at his own and grinned. He sat on the couch. "It isn't public indecency if it's my own home."

                "Fair enough."

                Draco watched him.

                "You did something to your hair."

                Draco scowled, reaching up. "Yeah. Well. People were finding me too easily after the trial."

                Neville nodded. "I heard about that. Not you, but generally. You were alright."

                "Yes," Draco swallowed, nodding. He took his wand out and started a fire in the grate. It lit the room nicely. "I was alright. My mother took the brunt of it, which we never expected."

                "Gran's really redone the place nicely. I think you'd like it. She doesn't change things." Neville sipped at the scotch. It was firey.

                "That's – "

                "I thought it might be a comfort. I heard from her that you had discussed purchasing the Manor again."

                Draco shut his mouth. He put his glass carefully on the coffee table and laced his fingers together.

                "I'm sorry – that was private."

                Draco laughed. "Nothing in my life is or has ever been private. I don't mind at all. I did speak to your grandmother. She isn't nearly as polite as you."

                "She's direct, we like to say."

                Draco grinned. He looked at Neville for a long moment. "Why did you let me go tonight?"

                "Like I said. You could lose your job."

                "You don't care if I lose my job."

                "I – isn't your family depending on that? It's not like just anyone will hire someone with a dark mark. I know you got acquitted, but your father is still under house arrest and banned from his wand, and I can't imagine your mother is terribly fit to work."

                "No. You're right."

                "I just – saw you, realized it was you, and knew if I arrested – I knew I couldn't. So I sent my partner away."

                "It was incredibly kind."

                Neville took a sip. Then another. He laughed. "Funny, how the burning goes away after awhile. I guess it takes the skin right off your tongue."

                "It's not the best quality," Draco smiled. "Best in the house, but not the best. I'm sorry."

                "Not a bit," Neville took a long draught. He leaned back and loosened his tie.

                They spoke of the laws of the day, then of the trials, then the war. Everything Neville asked, Draco answered. It was his deposition. His thanks, as well. Neville grew comfortable and answered as well, telling him stories of the DA, until Draco was red from laughing.

                "We thought it was sabotage. This clever bit of subterfuge from you!"

                "No, I promise – just Finnegan's moronic attempt to keep the pipes from rattling," Neville insisted.

                "Shut down the whole castle!"

                "As if we needed more tribulations. Ahh," Neville stuck his glass out.

                Draco emptied the bottle into it. Neville had taken more, and was still in uniform, but now he didn't care.

                He gave Draco a long look. Then he waved a finger. "I like this. You in a suit."

                "Of course you do," Draco said, leaning into his hand. His grey eyes were red at the edges for want of sleep.

                "Course I do. It hangs well on you. I like the dark blond hair too. Makes you – approachable."

                "It does."

                "You filled out."

                "You're gay, Neville. Of course you enjoy that. You all do."

                Neville sat up. But that was too much work so he lay back, grinning. "You going to make fun of me now?"

                "No."

                "Why not?"

                Draco shrugged.

                Neville moved onto the couch. "You – I'm sorry. How'd you know that?"

                Draco shrugged. "I thought that was why you stopped me. Because you thought you'd get something out of it. And then when you didn't, I asked you to come in. Because I wanted you to get something out of it."

                "What?"

                Draco shrugged a third time. "People shouldn't just be kind without reward. You're kind."

                "When have you ever cared about kindness?"

                "Since I needed it and people gave it to me. It's survival. For every ten stalkers and threats, one person lent us rent." Draco leaned forward and kissed Neville. It was quick. Then he was talking again. "You also filled out. You have really full lips. I was hoping."

                Neville careened forward, stretching his leg over Draco's. He lay over the couch, pinning Draco's arms to his chest. He kissed him like a teenager. And then like grownups. They were now, he thought cheerily; they could do this. If they wanted – and they wanted.

                He put a hand behind Draco's head as Draco kissed back. His fingers rubbed the nape of Draco's neck, rubbed through the stiffness of the mousse in his hair.

                Draco got his hand, which was pinched under his jaw, pulled out. He lay it on Neville's chest. Twisting his head to the side, he sucked on Neville's lip. He was the better kisser, the more experienced and the more sober. He rubbed Neville's back and arms, working down to his hips. He was sliding down as Neville readjusted.

                Neville propped his leg up on the floor. Draco had followed him at first as he pulled back, then lay down, swallowing and rubbing Neville's thigh. It was pacifying. He was trying to keep Neville happy – even as he pulled away. Draco was smiling. But Neville was an officer, and even then he could see Draco was afraid.

                Draco kept smiling, rubbing his chest, squeezing his biceps through his shirt. He moved quickly to the bulge of Neville's erection, trapped tightly in his slacks. He was trying to please him, even if it meant not being pleased himself. He groped Neville, smiling up. It was flattery.

                Neville helped with his belt. Draco pulled on the neck of his sweater.

                "This face," Neville slurred. He stroked Draco's cheek, then began tracing his thumb over Draco's lips. The blond man opened his mouth, letting Neville pull and push at his lips, sucking and licking Neville's thumb as prompted.

                He had finely groomed brows, Neville noticed. A sheen of sweat. A bit of a shadow, so late in the day. And with his crisp white shirt and suit, he looked like a student again. An old student. An adult in every way.

                Draco ignored the teasing, kissed his palm, and kept tugging his belt down. He slid his hand in. Neville was on his knee now, straddling Draco, shoving into his grip. He pumped and Draco rubbed, obedient.

                Neville had never seen him care before. He was so attentive now, watching Neville, reacting to every flicker of opinion. Neville watched him flash between worry, insecurity, and smiling – always going back to an encouraging smile. He sucked desperately at Neville's hand.

                Neville rubbed over his face, realizing Draco was not going forward; he was waiting for Neville. He was doing his part, rubbing his erection hard, advertising his own mouth, and then waiting.

                Neville wanted to watch.

                Draco got nervous. As if sensing Neville did not understand, Draco let go and began to massage Neville's chest and thigh with two hands, all while sucking – pumping his lips up and down Neville's thumb.

                Neville dug his cock out of his fly. Draco took it immediately. He took his fingertips and began to carefully teased the head.

                "You like this?"

                Neville chuckled and walked his hips forward. He took his cock and slapped it against Draco's mouth. Draco opened wide, sticking out his tongue. He sucked as Neville let go, taking it in. Neville missed the visual and took his cock out again. He rubbed the wet head over Draco's mouth, all around. Draco's tongue tried to follow. Mostly he watched Neville's face. Neville scooted higher. Draco sucked deep on the base, underneath, licking his sac. His mouth was hot; Neville couldn't get over how hot.

                Draco took him in and moved up and down. It wasn't deep, but it was Draco, and somehow that made it seem terribly invasive to Neville nevertheless.

But Neville's body was taking over. He put a hand behind Draco's head to support him as he strained. Draco was lax, lazy looking besides pumping his head, and stoking Neville's thigh.

Neville leaned forward and rubbed his wet cock over Draco's face. Draco played along, mouth open, eyes up, intent. It was eerie, but the enthusiasm made Neville painfully hard. Neville chuckled, slapping his cock. Draco sucked his balls again, then the shaft. Neville cradled his head and pushed in.

Draco made him ambitious. The uniform made him ambitious. Draco's mussed suit, like a worn uniform, like a petty abused clerk, all made Neville ambitious.

Neville pulled back. "Hard enough. Stand up."

He stood. Draco stood. Neville turned him around and embraced him, taking in the scent of him, marked by cologne, mousse, body wash, and laundry.

Draco understood. He took off his belt, staring straight ahead at the painting behind the couch, smirking.

Neville pulled his trousers down. Draco's legs had muscle, blond hair, and the same impossible heat of his mouth. Neville pushed him. Draco let himself fall to the couch on his knees, his trousers and shorts about his ankles like chains, holding his legs in. He held the back and waited.

Neville massaged his ass. He licked him. "You want this?"

Draco turned back, silent for a moment. "Of course."

"Really. You want this? Not just – the cop thing?"

Draco twisted, leaving his cheek on his hands. He stuck his ass back. "Do it."

"My pleasure." Neville went at him, messy kisses.

Draco shut his eyes, moaning to himself, resting. But the sensation woke him and he lifted his head, eyes still shut but his mouth open and trembling as if he were speaking.

Neville rocked him, moving his whole body. Then he squared up and edged in a fingertip. Draco was still tight. "You sure? I got a condom. If you're sure – "

"I'm sure. Get me ready. Do it right."

"Trying." Neville took his cock in hand. The other, he used to push his thumb in.

That was the right move. Draco began grinding, down up, getting it from both sides, down into a slick tight grip and up into the pressing intrusion.

After a few minutes, when Draco was really whimpering, laughing at himself, and deep into it, Neville stood. He took the condom from his wallet and got it stretched over his cock. The rubber made him look shiny.

Draco was turned, watching. He grinned.

Neville slid in.

Draco gasped, pulling his hips closer. Neville pumped deep, all the way in. He lay down along Draco's back.

It was hard, with the couch giving a bit. Draco encouraged him with short words, grunting. Neville slapped his ass on the side, and liked it, and did it again and again. Draco liked it; he moaned at the pats, rocking faster.

Neville grinned. He slapped really hard and began to nail him quickly, jack hammering away. Draco turned, annoyed perhaps, sweating.

Neville gripped his hip and kept pumping. Draco still went along with it, encouraging him, each time, "Yeah, yeah, yeah – "

He needed a better angle. He wanted to see Draco's face lie and beg. He pulled out, rolled Draco on his back and pulled off his trousers.

"You want to see me?"

"Yeah," Neville said, throwing Draco's shoes aside. He rubbed his lifted feet, grinning. "Cute socks. Hold the back there."

Draco reached over his head and held the back of the couch.

Neville fucked him, in uniform, because he wanted to remember this every time he was dressed, and every time he saw Draco dressed. He didn't want to be close – he already knew too much about Draco, about his family, about his finances, and now he was close enough to know that the man had freckles across the bridge of his nose. He wanted to leave him with something. He wanted the man to at least have the privacy of his own body.

"Take it off," Draco muttered, tearing at his tie. He flung it off.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't want it to be like that," Draco admitted, lowering his eyes, but only for an instant.

Neville stripped – off with the sweater, the cheap tie. He unbuttoned his shirt, grinning as Draco did. "You're alright with this?"

"Kind of you to ask."

Neville slowed and fucked him, in his tall black socks and open shirt and jacket. Draco guided Neville's hand to his chest. Neville kissed him and put his hand on his cock. "Show me how to get you off."

Draco laughed and guided him there too.

Neville came in him. He whispered at Draco until he came: "You're brilliant. You're gorgeous and brilliant, and you're a fucking great man. You are. You got a lot to deal with and you are mighty at doing it. You're the best I've had, you really are – "

Draco came.

It was nothing to make a big deal over, and they both grew alienated the instant it was over. But Neville grinned, stroking him off, and leaned up. He kissed Draco. Kissed him another full minute.

After that, he pulled back, smiling into Draco's face. Draco had a nice look on him, and his hand on Neville's cheek. He watched him for a moment. "I like your lips."

"That's why I loaned them to you."

Draco kissed him again. He sat up. "You want to shower?"

"I better," Neville sputtered. "My – wow. That was. Thanks."

Draco looked suddenly mortified. He recovered – that pendulum of terror and poise was becoming natural. "Would you like to go in first? I'll get you a towel."

"Please." Neville stood to let him by, chuckling as they both stumbled over Draco's shoes.

Draco went into the bathroom.

After five minutes, Neville walked over.

Draco had the towel, but was bent over the sink. He was not crying, but his eyes were very red.

Neville put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Hey."

Draco straightened. He shook his head. "Dizzy. Too much to drink. You're right to send me home."

"Do you drink a lot?"

Draco nodded. "Yes."

"That's dangerous. For you. To be drunk and out in public – after everything. It makes you vulnerable."

"I know. I've found out."

Neville shuddered. "Wait – so I – I didn't."

"Not you. No. You're – you're a good man."

"I shouldn't have."

"You're drunk. I'm drunk. You asked. Several times. I'm conscious. It's all fine," Draco sighed. He turned on the water and splashed his eyes, then broke down.

Neville left his hand on him.

"I was attacked after the trial, once. I was drinking. They knew me. They walked me back to my place – a different place – and came inside. When they left me, I called the police. They came, but when I gave my name – they left. They just left. I shouted and they just said, No. And left. Because people like me don't get protection. I see that. It's – I understand why. I do. I understand."

Neville hurt. His eyes stung. He put his arm around the man. "I'll take the report."

"No! No. It's not – it's not about the report. I don't want anything from you, I don't need anything."

"It's never about revenge; it's about preventing it from happening to you or anyone else."

"Not a lot of drunk Death Eaters out there."

Neville realized Draco had his sleeve pushed back. The tattoo was there, still ugly. It was cut up. Messily. Not with a razor. Maybe with a steak knife. The ink had boiled back through the scars.

He put his hand over it. "You didn't hurt anyone."

Draco let him touch his arm, his back, without moving.

"I won't make you. But if you want to…rapists – it has nothing to do with their victims. They're just aggressive; just violent. They're broken and they need to be identified. So if you know…it can be anonymous. People for us to watch."

Draco whispered five names without pausing between the syllables.

On the stand, Neville realized he could see a man in the back of the room. Even with the hair dye, he was pale.

Afterwards, Neville caught up, grinning, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I heard about the product announcement. Congratulations. Capillaries, eh."

"I'm only part of the team. There's like fifty of us." Draco shifted quickly to the opposite wall as the trial let out.

People were cursing. People who saw Neville, the cop testifying, sneered at him.

"They don't understand. These people have different faces they put on for their families," Neville mused. "But deep down, I think they know. They'll think about it. Everyone has darkness in them."

Draco nodded.

"You look like a lawyer, here in that suit."

"Is that all?" Draco asked. "Joy riding?"

"Felony larceny, and some other petty stuff. Look, this is how it's done. It's a process. You get them on the small things. Then you get their addresses, wands, prints, everything. Then you know what to look for. This is small, you're right - because this is recon."

Draco raised his eyebrows, searching his face. "You could have been in my House."

"I could have been in Hufflepuff, is what," Neville said. "This is hard work. You're not unfamiliar, I gather?"

"No." Draco shook his head, grinning.

"Forgive me – I've got to get back. Quick lunch?"

"Yes," Draco straightened. He took out an envelope. "And – the marketing team. There was – there was a raffle. London Philharmonic. I know people don't like the symphony anymore – "

"I'd like it if the company was you."

"It was a gift," Draco frowned, offering the envelope. "You can take whoever you like."

"Even you?" Neville took it, grinning. "No one else will explain it all to me."

"Surely you've got someone better," Draco scoffed. He pointed at the tickets. "Use them."

"I want you. But don't cry."

Draco rolled his eyes elaborately. "Fuck you."

"I just wanted to make you angry, because I figured you didn't want to cry here in public."

Draco sighed, grinning at the floor. "Really. Fuck you."

"Serve and protect." Neville checked the tickets and tucked them away. "Diagon for lunch?"

--

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Serve and protect