Archive of Our Own

"Observe," Dennis said, somewhat dramatically, as was his way.

Harry nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He didn't think Dennis would call him all the way down to the Research Lab without proper cause, but watching him spread a white piece of cloth on his workbench and pour red liquid on it, didn't look very promising. More like Dennis was auditioning for a detergent commercial.

The red liquid coated the cloth, dyeing it red in moments. Impressive, really, if one wanted to add a little flair to an old shirt. Dennis looked too proud, though. Was this really why he had called Harry? To show him that if one melts the Red Hail, it could be used to dye clothes?

"See how evenly it spreads?" Dennis asked excitedly.

"Mm," Harry confirmed.

"Now watch this."

Oh, thank God. There was more to it.

Dennis Levitated the cloth high in the air and shot a spell at it. The cloth fluttered, as though caught in the wind, rumbling and shooting sparks all around. It sounded and looked like a contained little thunderstorm. And then, hail started to fall. Red hail, contained in a narrow beam, shooting down into a bucket Dennis had placed on the floor.

The cloth turned white and fluttered back onto the workbench, and Dennis picked up the bucket to show Harry a handful of Red Hail inside.

"Huh," Harry said. This was interesting. "Is it the real thing?"

"Yes, yes it is. I tested it half a dozen times. Turned the hail we've confiscated into liquid, turned it back into hail, and the hail never fails to have the same effects we've seen on the real thing." He poured the contents of the bucket onto his workbench, a small waterfall of glittering rubies. "The ingenious thing is," Dennis said, "when liquified, it takes about an hour for the hail to become harmless and undetectable."

That was ingenious, but they already knew that. The Hail was impossible to detect once it was consumed. The effects lingered for hours, but diagnostic spells could not detect the cause. It made it really hard to gather evidence and charge anyone unless they were caught with Red Hail in their pockets.

"And if it's consumed in liquid form?" Harry asked. "Does it have the same effects on the metabolism?"

"If consumed within an hour after it melted, yes. After that, no. It has to be turned to hail beforehand."

Now that was helpful. Harry grinned. "This means we just found the source."

"Does it?" Dennis frowned.

"Yes. Because liquid hail is an unfinished product. Only the manufacturers can afford to sell it in this state."

"Oh, I don't know. The atmospheric charm is simple enough and selling a bit of harmless dye or a red cloak is smart. Isn't that the point? Can you imagine? Someone orders a shipment of drugs, and you get some guy wearing a red shirt to transport it. Perfect for widespread distribution. That's why we can't catch them."

Harry shook his head. "We can't catch them because the drug is too hard to detect. But see, the thing is, you're clever and you think the atmospheric charm is simple. It absolutely isn't. I bet most people have trouble with it. So if you let the hail circulate as an unfinished product, it will invariably end up in many, many wrong hands. At best, the buyer will fail at producing hail. At worst, they'll flood their house or burn it down. Gives the product a bad rap. Nah, if you want to sell it unfinished, you can only sell it to a client who you know well. Who you can trust. Trust them not to hand it over to someone incompetent, but use it and use it correctly."

Dennis scratched his chin. "Are you saying I solved the case?"

Harry indulged him with a smile, but he very much doubted it would be that simple.

"Huh," Robards said. "Creevy? How did he think of that?"

"Well, that Muggle I caught said one of his clients acquired some red vials directly from the hotel. Creevy extrapolated, did some experiments, and it panned out."

Robards sighed. "Lots of things panned out, but we're still stuck. The curse-breakers simply can't get us inside that hotel. I mean, maybe if we get fifty people there and make them chant throughout the night, but I'm fairly certain the hotel management would notice that. And act accordingly."

Destroy the evidence and flee, of course. Harry was so goddamn tired of this.

"Old pure-blood establishments are notoriously well-protected," Robards said sadly.

Harry huffed. Yes, now everyone remembered that. Back when they had sent him to Bellows with a poor Veil, they thought it was simple enough.

Harry stopped that line of thinking before it developed into a daydream. What happened, happened, Harry couldn't change that. He had let Draco Malfoy fuck him and enjoyed it so thoroughly and obviously, Malfoy would be smirking and sneering about it for an eternity. At least Malfoy couldn't tell anyone what happened because of the Discretion Charms on that place. And as far as Harry knew, Malfoy had already left the country. Harry hadn't seen him or heard anything about him for almost a month.

Robards sighed again. "I understand you want this drug off the streets. So do I. But these things take time. The curse-breakers will find a way. Eventually."

"But now we know exactly who's brewing it and exactly where they're selling it. And our hands are still tied."

Oh, tied hands. Harry had fantasies like that. Malfoy tying him up and—

"We don't know exactly," Robards said. "That's the whole point. Nothing is exact without evidence. Or unless we catch them red-handed."

Rubbish. They knew.

It had been a difficult month, but they were so close now. With curse-breakers failing to counter the enchantments protecting Bellows, Harry could do nothing but follow around that old man Malfoy had pointed out. He couldn't ambush him on the street and hope he had Red Hail on him. It could ruin the whole investigation if Harry was wrong. But weeks of dedicated surveillance hadn't been a waste of time.

It turned out the old man spent his days prowling the country, Disapparating excessively. It made it hard to follow him, but eventually made it easy to discern the magical trail he had left behind. That was how Harry had found his most frequented place — an old rundown hotel in Birmingham.

All their sensors detected high magical activity, but not a single witch or wizard. The hotel was shrouded in protective charms, and wizards must have been Apparating directly inside with some sort of special invitation. What Harry did find was a whole bunch of Muggle squatters, almost all of them drugged. On Muggle drugs, though.

However, occasionally, some Muggles stood out. Equally drugged up, but they were young and attractive and clean. Those were the ones Harry had picked up. The Healers discovered traces of magical tempering, Confounding Charms, Memory Charms, Healing Charms. Damning evidence, for sure, but against whom? He got lucky in the end and caught a Muggle who knew a lot. An older bloke and a sex worker, specialising in dominating men, he claimed. Including wizards. He had a wizarding lover once, who had introduced him to some aspects of the Wizarding World, and he had been offering his services to wizards ever since. He was aware his wizarding clients started using some kind of drug that looked like rubies, but he didn't partake nor worried about those who did.

He was fully cooperative and appropriately angry once Harry explained to him the other Muggles they'd caught were likely there against their will, and judging by the traces of haphazardly cast healing charms, weren't there to dominate anyone, but suffer everything the Muggle-hating clients of that establishment decided to put them through.

The Muggle couldn't help them get inside, though. It was a members-only sort of establishment. He had three regular clients, who hired him occasionally. He didn't know their names and had no way of contacting them. It was another waiting game that could take weeks.

"We do have one thing," Robards said, handing Harry a file. "Your Muggle spent the day looking through mugshots. He identified two wizards he'd seen there. Years ago, but they were there, and he found them memorable."

Harry opened the file. The first photograph was of a man with a dour face and half of his face burnt off.

"That one's in Azkaban. For murder," Harry said. He'd caught the man himself.

"He is. Which means if he's a member he could get us inside. He'd have reason to cooperate."

"Yeah, a known convict suddenly released. Not suspicious at all." Harry turned the first photo to see the other one. His stomach dropped. "He's a member?"

"Apparently. Or at least he was five years ago."

Harry looked down at Draco Malfoy's handsome face. It was an old photograph, but he was handsome back then too. Harry had never realised.

"As far as I know," Robards said. "Malfoy was out of the country for years, but he's here at the moment. He might not know much about Red Hail, as the drug is relatively new, but again, if he's a member, he could get us in. And we do have leverage."

"We do?"

Robards frowned. "His record? We could offer to have it expunged. If he helps. I mean, assuming he's not one of those exploiting Muggles."

"Are we assuming that?" Harry wasn't quite sure what to think anymore.

"Well," Robards said, "I'm certainly hoping this establishment used to be a place where people with certain preferences could indulge, consensually. If not, that means Muggles were being abused in front of our noses for five years, or longer. I refuse to believe that. It seems to me this drug is making people mad with lust. Lowers their inhibitions and makes them bold enough to explore their darker desires. It's convenient too, being so hard to detect. So, yes, I'm assuming the Red Hail has them all in their grip — the ones being exploited and the ones doing the exploiting. And Malfoy, well, if he fell down that rabbit hole, he fell extraordinarily fast. Seems unlikely."

"I don't disagree about Malfoy, but pure-bloods torturing Muggles is nothing new. They did that before Red Hail."

"You're too young to be this jaded. I'm not trying to excuse anyone. I'm well aware a bunch of these arseholes switched to Red Hail because it's safer than using the Imperius Curse. But it's undeniable there's been a big uptick in violent sexual assaults on wizards, witches and Muggles. Red Hail has to be the primary cause. It's too tempting and too addictive. Certainly manufactured with this intent.The manufacturers are our primary goal. They're the ones who released this plague on everyone."

Harry was still staring at Malfoy's face. His eyes were sunken in this photo. They looked haunted. "You're sure he's still in the country?" Harry feared Malfoy was long gone.

"He and his mother have reservations for a transatlantic Portkey, leaving tomorrow night."

"Oh." So Malfoy was here this whole time. Why had he lingered? Was he maybe waiting— No. Harry was romanticising things, like always. "I think he might help," he said. Back at Bellows, it seemed to Harry that Malfoy was quite annoyed with this drug. And it made sense. He came back to Britain only to find his old haunts and old friends positively crazed.

"I reckon he might," Robards said. "I spent some time with him, you know. Back then, when he and his parents were arrested. I was the one who questioned him, several times. Looked like a scared kid to me. Horrified. In shock, I think. Well, obviously, I could be wrong. Who knows where life took him? I'd still rather take my chances with him than a convicted murderer serving a life sentence in Azkaban."

"Yeah." It cheered Harry up to hear Robards speak kindly of Malfoy. Normally, someone mentioning Malfoy's name came accompanied with scowls. But it made sense Robards had a different perspective than Harry's friends. All those years ago, Robards was already a seasoned Auror used to dealing with hardened criminals. To him, Malfoy was just a kid.

"You all right talking to him or should I get someone else?" Robards asked. "I heard it said he was your arch-nemesis back in school. I'd rather not have that screwing up our chance."

Harry frowned. "Voldemort was my arch-nemesis back in school," he said firmly. "I'll talk to him."

The Malfoy Manor looked deserted. Sad, rundown, and depressing. It was no wonder, really. Lucius had died years ago, drank himself into an early grave, and his wife and son didn't live here. Only visited occasionally.

Narcissa opened the door. She had aged somewhat, though gracefully. She wasn't smirking and sneering at him, but smiled quite warmly as she led him through the foyer. Honestly, she looked more attractive, too, these days. Maybe it was the smile, or just the fact she reminded Harry of Malfoy, and Harry had unexpectedly developed a soft spot for him.

He didn't tell her why he was here, just that he needed to speak to Draco.

She did a fairly good job of hiding her surprise; she kept nodding and smiling politely, but it took her a few moments to speak. "He's quite busy. We're packing. We mean to leave tomorrow." She hesitated for a moment. "Well, if you can excuse the mess, then of course. I'm sure he—" She glanced at the grand staircase and didn't finish her thought. "First floor, third door on the right. You can't miss it. The door has a DO NOT ENTER sign in big, block letters."

Harry had to laugh.

"Yes, well." She smiled fondly. "Remnants of his teenage years. He's quite fond of it." She inclined her head. "If you'll excuse me. I'm on a tight schedule."

Harry once again apologised for intruding and hurried upstairs.

He hesitated in front of Malfoy's bedroom for far too long, staring at the DO NOT ENTER sign. Did he truly expect Malfoy would agree to help or was this just an excuse to see him? Because in certain moments Harry was desperate to see him, talk to him, talk about what happened…

Maybe it was better if Harry never saw him again. Malfoy clearly loved the fact he got to do what he had done to Harry, possibly just because it was an opportunity to put an interesting notch on his belt. But he had been so… into it. So intense. Like, maybe…

Harry steeled himself and knocked. He waited for Malfoy's "Come in" before he entered. The moment he did, Malfoy dropped a pile of clothes in his hands and stared in obvious shock.

Harry's whole body reacted to that stare. God, it brought back the memory so vividly Harry's trousers tightened.

"Potter," Malfoy said, then bent down to pick up his clothes. "I'm—er—" He straightened and waved around, perhaps in some attempt to explain the mess. And the room was in a shocking mess. Open trunks of all sizes lay on the bed, and all other surfaces were covered in clothes and shoes and various trinkets.

"Packing, I know," Harry said. "Sorry. I realise you're leaving tomorrow."

"Yes, I am." Malfoy made room on the bed and started folding the clothing he had dropped. "Not the best time."

It wasn't said too coldly, but it wasn't friendly either. Harry had a feeling Malfoy didn't want to acknowledge what happened, didn't want to talk about it, didn't want… more.

Harry pushed down his disappointment. That wasn't why he was here, was it?

"I'm here to ask for your help," Harry said.

That got Malfoy's full attention. "My help," he said flatly. "I— All right." He sat down. Right on top of his folded clothes.

Harry looked around for a place to sit, and Malfoy hurried to levitate some clothes from a nearby armchair. The fact that Malfoy was willing to listen was a great success in itself. Harry should have been pleased. But when he started explaining what he needed Malfoy to do, Malfoy's jaw got so tight, Harry suspected he was grinding his teeth. The offer to get his record cleared seemed to only anger him further.

"Let me check if I got this right," Malfoy said. "You want me, a civilian, to go on an undercover mission, step right into a den of criminals, and become a snitch?"

"Not alone. I'd be there."

"Wandless."

"I'll make do," Harry said tightly. "It's not my intent to put you in danger."

"Not your intent to—" Apparently, he was so indignant, he had run out of air. He huffed. "Do you imagine I'm a regular there with their full confidence?"

Harry breathed a little easier. He was afraid of that possibility, but Malfoy clearly seemed insulted by the implication. "No," Harry said. "I imagine they wouldn't be too shocked if one of their old members, who was out of the country for years, decided to pay them a visit."

"You imagine wrong. The person who used to own that place… I mean, we were friendly, and I could give you her name, but it's likely fake. I have no idea who she is. I've never seen her outside of the establishment. If someone else owns it now, then I'll be a complete stranger to them. And if she's still the owner… What you're describing was never my scene and she knows that. That place used to be different. It wasn't even strictly about sex. Just a place to hang out, meet people. Sure, some members brought sex workers with them, Muggles too, and yes, they had dungeons where… Well, different clients, different desires. There was a little something for everyone. They had nice rooms upstairs, too. And if someone showed up with an Imperiused Muggle, or made any kind of trouble, they'd be cast out. She wanted to keep her nose clean. This is a drastic change."

"Well, yes. Things change, people change. Your preferences could have changed too. It shouldn't be shocking."

"My point is I could be deemed suspicious the moment I step in. Suddenly returned and interested in the exact things they offer? Come on."

"But you're a Malfoy. It's synonymous with wealth. There's only one reason why they would change their practices, and that's profit. They'd love a rich client like you. If your offer is tempting enough, they'd be tempted to accept it. And you… Well, you have a past. Your whole family does. They might find it plausible you're—" Harry cut himself off because Malfoy looked very angry now. "I'm just saying they might find it plausible. I wouldn't. That's why I'm here, asking. Because it seemed to me—" Damn it. He had to mention that night. "You hate that drug. You made that clear to me."

Malfoy stared at him. Was he thinking about what happened at Bellows too? Did he spend every single night since remembering it and wanking himself raw like Harry did? Probably not.

"It's not my problem," Malfoy said eventually. "I don't even—" He looked around the room. "I'm leaving tomorrow. And you're— You're the Auror. This is your job, not mine."

Harry opened his mouth to argue further, but if Malfoy didn't want to do it, then he didn't, and that was that. Most people wouldn't. And Malfoy didn't seem to care about having a clean record.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy added, and that just cemented the whole thing, didn't it? Malfoy wasn't rejecting the job out of anger. He just didn't want to do it. Didn't want to take a bloody huge risk.

"Yeah, okay," Harry said. "Well, I had to ask. Thank you for listening."

Malfoy made a jerky movement that might have been a nod. "I—" He pursed his lips. "I hope you catch them. I truly do. And I'm sure you will. Most enchantments can be broken eventually."

"Yeah, well, we don't have that kind of time. But that Muggle I caught recognised another bloke. So we'll try to persuade him to help."

Malfoy blinked. "Another bloke? Who?"

"Um, I can't tell you that, obviously. But we do have another option. I thought you might like to know that. You were our first choice, that's all."

"Why? Because I have a record?"

"No. Because you're the safer option."

"Huh." Malfoy nodded, but he seemed quite stiff all of a sudden. "So, the plan is the same? You and this other bloke will go in with you pretending to be his Muggle toy? That's a terrible plan, you realise?"

"It's the only one we've got. And like you said. That's my job." A treacherous little thrill shot through Harry. He had never imagined this would make Malfoy waver. Because he was wavering. He looked concerned. That intense, pale stare of his was back in place. "I have high hopes he'll agree," Harry added casually. "He's serving a life sentence for murder, so he has little choice. If we offer to reduce his sentence, he'll jump at the chance."

Malfoy went pale. He stopped blinking too.

Harry couldn't say he was proud of trying to exploit Malfoy's unexpected concern for Harry's well-being, but using the other bloke was a terrible plan, and Harry wasn't looking forward to it. And, well, he was desperate to know if he was imagining things, or if Malfoy truly found the idea that Harry would put himself in such a vulnerable position with someone else so horrifying.

Malfoy wasn't saying anything, so Harry stood up. "I'll be careful."

"Wait!" Malfoy shot up too, as though prepared to physically stop Harry from leaving. There was clear panic in his tone, but he collected himself in seconds. "Would my record get expunged regardless of the outcome?"

Oh God, Harry wasn't wrong. Malfoy changed his mind. But surely this wasn't about his record. A minute ago it seemed he couldn't care less about it. No, Malfoy changed his mind because he was worried about Harry. Or was Harry romanticising things again? God. "It would, yes," Harry said, keeping his tone even with difficulty. "If you get me inside, that's worth a lot, and we'll clear your record. But well, once we're inside, if you don't follow the plan, that puts us both in danger. I won't lie and say it doesn't. So, you know, a clear record won't be your top priority at that point."

Malfoy scowled. "Judging by your description, I can well imagine how that place works. I know how to behave there. You don't, and you'll fuck it up."

"My role is simple enough." And honestly, with Malfoy there, it would be so much easier.

God, what a thought. It was almost terrifying how much Harry trusted him. All because they spent two hours together. Incredible two hours, during which Harry had put himself in a vulnerable position, and Malfoy hadn't abused it.

"Hmph." Malfoy looked far from convinced, but he appeared to make a decision. "I want a full briefing," he said, imperiously. "I want to know everything you know. I want a clear, detailed plan. I don't want us to rush in there—"

"Malfoy, I'm not thirteen. There's a plan; there's a backup plan. I'm not looking to risk your life. Or mine."

Malfoy pursed his lips, but nodded. "You will say nothing to my mother," he said sharply. "I will delay our trip with a suitable excuse."

"Sure." Harry didn't mention Malfoy shouldn't tell Narcissa anything anyway.

They had, with much courtesy, arranged to meet at the Ministry tomorrow morning and go through every detail. Neither acknowledged what happened between them in a cosy room at a gay pub not even a month ago. Which was a good thing. It would only interfere with the job. And the job was more important.

For now.

"Oh my," Padma said. "Aren't you a dish?"

Harry tapped the little device hidden in a silver fang earring. "Did you just call me a fish?" There was too much static in his ear. He wasn't supposed to hear anything. They had decided on a one-way connection. Having his Auror partners talking in his ear would have been distracting, and it was easier to detect. Not to mention Harry and Malfoy couldn't call for backup anyway, since no one could get in except Malfoy and his guest.

"Dish. Dish. The thing you eat."

Harry grinned. "You don't eat fish?"

She rolled her eyes. "For fuck's sake." She pushed some buttons on her workstation, and the static cleared. "We didn't have a problem with Malfoy's earpiece. You have weird ears."

"Or you gave me a faulty pair."

"It's a proximity issue," Zach said with a sigh. He was sprawled on a chair beside hers, looking bored. "It happens. Just turn it on after they Disapparate as planned, and it should be fine."

"Well, excuse me, oh-wise-one," Padma grumbled, "for double-checking it's not a faulty pair."

Zach pulled a face at Harry. "Are we going to listen to you having sex?"

"Yes, I plan to have lots of sex. Can't you tell?" He spread his arms wide to show off his ridiculous attire.

"Ugh," Zach said.

Honestly, Harry didn't blame either of them for being put off by this assignment. They were stuck here in a van, in a nearby back alley, removed from any action, condemned to listen to Harry have his little date with Malfoy in an establishment that… Well, they were likely to hear things. Not Harry having sex, though. It wouldn't go that far. They had an hour, at best, once they got in, before Harry's veil wore off, and they had to sweet talk the owners during that time window. Or rather, Malfoy had to sweet-talk the owners. Harry just had to look pretty.

"There's a chance we won't hear anything," Padma said. "You realise that? If the curse-breakers are wrong and these guys have the same type of Discretion Charms—"

"They don't. Or else that Muggle couldn't tell us a thing."

"Maybe it doesn't work on Muggles."

"It should work even better on Muggles. Besides, Malfoy confirmed this hotel doesn't use those charms. The membership is closed and carefully selected. That's their most effective protection."

"Well, if Malfoy said it…" Zach grumbled.

Harry took out his wand and deliberated for a moment, then handed it to Padma. "Guard it with your life."

"I mean, I won't." She set it down next to her shiny buttons. "Best I can do is promise not to poke out Zach's eyes with it."

Zach had a few things to say about that, but Harry stopped listening. He was ready to get the ball rolling. He left his bickering partners and stepped out of the van. Or rather hopped down and then pulled the door closed.

"Good Lord," Malfoy said. He'd been waiting outside, claiming he needed air, while Harry and his team checked the equipment.

"What?" Harry asked, concerned, but then he realised Malfoy was checking him out. Harry had his cloak on before, so Malfoy hadn't gotten a chance to see the outfit. Harry was wearing low-hanging leather trousers and a wide, soft, white shirt with a deep V-neckline. The shirt was short and revealed his waist and hips. The leather collar around his neck completed the look. "No good?"

Malfoy shifted his stance a bit. "Are you certain this is what Muggles wear these days?"

"The ones visiting this place, yeah." Most Muggles they'd caught were wearing similar things. Harry had picked out the tamest version of what he had seen. And honestly Harry had seen similarly dressed Muggles in clubs years ago. "All that travelling and you didn't get to know Muggles better?"

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Do you imagine I travel around to party with Muggles? I stick to wizarding locations."

"Sounds dull," Harry couldn't help saying.

Malfoy shrugged, but he didn't deny it. Which was interesting. Harry assumed Malfoy found his way of life fulfilling, not dull.

"We should go," Harry said.

Concern crept into Malfoy's expression. He was nervous; he was just hiding it well. That wasn't a bad thing. A little adrenaline spike gave one better focus.

Harry extended his hand, so Malfoy could Disapparate them, but Malfoy said, "Wait. Is this…" He reached over, almost touched the silver ring on Harry's collar, but then hastily redrew his hand.

"The correction method we talked about?" Harry asked. "Yes, it is." The collar was charmed. If one pulled on the silver ring, it would cause Harry pain. Unpleasant, but manageable. Just to give Malfoy an edge if he decided he needed it while trying to convince the owners he enjoyed this sort of thing.

A muscle in Malfoy's jaw twitched. "I don't remember agreeing to this particular charm."

"Er, does it matter which charm it is? Aren't they all similar?" He frowned. "Are you claiming you can tell which charm it is by sight?"

"By feel," Malfoy said, completely serious.

"Huh. Okay. Well—"

Malfoy took out his wand.

"A bit late to change it now," Harry said, but Malfoy touched the tip of his wand to the collar and murmured an incantation Harry didn't catch.

"What did you do?" Harry failed to keep apprehension out of his tone.

"I cast the charm I prefer to use as a… corrective method." He reached for the ring again and tugged.

Harry gasped, shocked as a sharp stab of pleasure passed through him. Like a quick, little orgasm that made his legs go weak.

"That…" Harry sucked in a breath. "It doesn't feel like an effective corrective method."

"I assure you it is," Malfoy said, his voice much lower.

"I thought you said this isn't your scene." Harry was still catching his breath. Fuck, that was amazing. "You seem to know things."

"I do know things. And no, it's not my scene. I prefer privacy. And places like these… There's too much variety. Many of these wizards like inflicting pain. I prefer not to see it." He leaned in a bit closer, his voice soft. "I prefer to undo my lovers with pleasure."

"Oh," Harry managed. He promptly changed his mind. This was an effective method to keep Harry docile. He felt like begging Malfoy to tug on the collar again. "Are you sure you won't be perceived as not, I don't know, hardcore enough or something?"

"Everyone has their preferred way of doing things. These people should understand that better than anyone. If we successfully demonstrate I have you properly trained, that's hardcore enough."

Trained. For fuck's sake. Now Harry was hopelessly turned on. Which wasn't a good thing. He needed a clear head. "You should have mentioned this sooner."

"In a room full of Aurors? Didn't feel like it. Like I said, I prefer privacy. And you didn't tell me which charm you'd use. It's one of the worst, based on the fucking Cruciatus."

All right, Harry didn't know that. "Maybe you could use something milder then. This one is… distracting."

"I disagree. It's a better sell. Your reactions are perfect."

Harry felt his cheeks heat up.

"Better sell for me too," Malfoy added. "I might get uncomfortable otherwise. My days of inflicting pain are done. It's why I don't like places like these."

"Oh." God, Harry never thought of that. And he had seen just how much Malfoy hated inflicting pain when forced to do it by Voldemort. "I mean, some of these people like a little pain," he couldn't help pointing out. "Or a lot of pain."

"Which ones, though? Red Hail or not, there are other ways to condition people. Magical means, Muggle drugs, exploiting youth and naivety, or whatever a certain someone might truly be yearning for. You come to a place like this, it's impossible to tell what it is you're witnessing."

That explanation had a different kind of pleasure tightening Harry's chest. "I didn't realise you—" He stopped himself. He wasn't sure what he meant to say. I never realised you were capable of that much empathy? That would be horribly rude. He cleared his throat. "You can still back out."

"We made a deal. I know why I'm doing this." Malfoy straightened, lifted his wand and offered Harry his hand. "Come on, pet."

Harry blew out a breath.

The hotel seemed ripe for demolition from the outside, but the inside was shockingly lavish. Large white marble halls decorated with long velvet curtains, handsome paintings, shiny statues, exotic flowers, and gold and silver trinkets. Harry was no expert on interior design and found most displays of wealth gaudy, but there was no denying this place looked fancy. A part of him expected a dungeon-like setting.

The reception wizard greeted them with a wide smile. Or rather greeted Malfoy with a smile; he hadn't glanced at Harry at all.

"Mr Malfoy," the wizard gushed. "What a wonderful surprise. I heard you've left the country, never to return."

"It's not as dramatic as that," Malfoy laughed. He made small talk with ease, smiling and joking, paying no heed to the security wizard who swiftly and silently examined them both with a security probe.

"Is Janeell still around?" Malfoy asked casually, handing over his wand.

The reception wizard placed the wand in a wooden box and tucked it away somewhere under the counter. "Can't get rid of her," he joked, and right on cue a woman stepped into the reception area, middle-aged and blonde-haired, with shocking amounts of makeup and an elaborate hairdo.

Her cherry-red lips stretched into a smile. "Draco," she purred, arms spreading as she approached. She and Malfoy hugged and air-kissed, smiling excessively.

Oh, but this was excellent. The receptionist called the owner at once without any prompting. They were absolutely delighted Malfoy was here. Malfoy had tried to underplay his importance, but Harry had suspected as much. Of course everyone would want one of the richest people in the country for their client.

Janeell was full of praise for Malfoy's appearance, showering him with compliments, which Malfoy graciously returned.

Harry was so focused on his role — being quiet and keeping his gaze downwards, he was slightly unprepared when Janeell said, "Oh, what a gorgeous little toy you have here."

Malfoy's finger poked at Harry's chin, forcing Harry's head up. "He's quite a specimen, isn't he?"

Janeell's eyes were pale and cold, but her smile was wide. "You always loved dark-haired, athletic beauties. I remember you liked them fiery."

"Oh, he was fiery." Malfoy smirked. "Taming them is the fun part. Now he's perfect. Well, almost. There's still work to do." Malfoy's finger slid down to the silver ring. "Isn't that right, pet?" He tugged.

Harry gasped and shivered, but somehow managed a quiet, "Yes, sir." God, this was a great charm.

"Gorgeous," Janeell said. "Oh, you're fond of him, I can tell."

"Fond?" Malfoy scoffed. "I'm positively in love."

That had Janeell laughing. "Oh you." She smacked Malfoy's arm. "Now tell me you're not here just to indulge. You must join me for a drink."

"I am here to indulge." Malfoy inclined his head. "A drink with you counts as such."

She laughed again, clearly charmed, and wrapped her arm around Malfoy's. "Come then. You must also meet my newest associate. He'll be here shortly."

"If I must…" Malfoy smiled, letting her lead him towards a large, wooden double door.

Harry followed, gaze lowered. It was hard to tell how convincing Janeell found Malfoy, but Harry thought Malfoy was doing excellent. This new associate being promptly called in sounded promising too. And worrying, as it could be someone Malfoy didn't know and therefore would be harder to convince. Or someone who didn't like Malfoy. Lucius had reduced his Azkaban sentence by giving up the names of Voldemort's followers. He made quite a few enemies in pure-blood circles. They likely had no love for Lucius's son.

The doors revealed an even larger room, arranged like an enormous living room, with leather sofas and armchairs and glass coffee tables. It wasn't packed, but considering the size of the room there were a lot of people here. No solitary patrons. Wizards, some fully dressed and elegant looking, some clad in leather; some in larger groups, drinking, chatting, playing cards or chess while others picked quiet corners. They were all surrounded by half-naked Muggles or young wizards, who could tell? Every wizard had a pet, and they were recognisable by their skimpy clothes and collars, and the fact most of them were kneeling on the floor. No one was having sex, not here. There were other rooms for that type of activity, according to what Malfoy and the captured Muggle had described. Private spaces, communal spaces, depending on one's preference.

This was… foreplay. A chance for wizards to brag and impress each other with their pets.

"Get me a drink, will you, pet?" Malfoy reached over to grab Harry's hip before smacking his leather-clad arse.

A surprised "Oh!" escaped Harry. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. Malfoy had warned him he'd do that; it wasn't unexpected. But Harry getting aroused by it was unexpected.

"We do have waiters, you know," Janeell commented.

"Oh, don't be fooled. He can be quite insolent," Malfoy said. "He needs practice."

And he needed to make sure no one slipped Malfoy anything. Without a wand, Harry couldn't guarantee the absence of any potion in Malfoy's drink, but he could tell if there was something unusual about the smell or colour and minimise the chance of someone tampering with it.

Harry made his way to the open bar. There was a waiter there, but he made no comment nor did he acknowledge Harry in any way as Harry fixed Malfoy a martini.

Doing his best not to glance around too much, as everything in this place was at once disturbing and arousing, Harry made his way towards the long sofa where Malfoy sat on one end and Janeell on the other.

Malfoy accepted the drink without a word, and Harry sat down on the floor in front of him, between Malfoy's legs, back against the sofa. Malfoy's hand reached down to wrap around Harry's neck, fingers tugging at the silver ring.

Harry gasped, back arching in pleasure. This sitting position was prearranged, but the pleasuring collar was not. It distracted Harry too much, but it was probably a better sell.

"Good job, pet," Malfoy said, lazily and belatedly.

Janeell laughed. "Aren't you the sweetest."

Harry couldn't tell if she was addressing Malfoy or himself, as he kept his gaze averted, but Malfoy replied. "Oh, he's a rare find. Fell into my lap."

"I'm sure," Janeell said indulgently, but she was clearly more interested in the conversation Harry had interrupted. "America next, you say?" she asked. "You know I've never been. Embarrassingly, you haven't even specified the country, and I can still assure you I never set foot there."

"The States. Touring the big cities, with the largest wizarding communities. I like to play it safe, I confess."

Harry had to struggle to keep up with the conversation because Malfoy kept his hand on Harry's throat, not tugging on the ring, but his thumb caressed Harry's jaw.

Wasn't that too sweet of Malfoy? It seemed to Harry he was much gentler and kinder to his pet than the other wizards here. On the other hand, Harry had to assume Malfoy knew what he was doing, and if he was sticking to his natural instincts then he was doing what every Auror undercover was instructed to do. Janeell didn't seem suspicious.

Malfoy was getting into specifics, listing places he had planned to visit.

"New York is the first stop, though," Malfoy said eventually. "Seems only natural."

"Oh, yes," Janeell confirmed. "The largest conglomerate of wizards. Quite a few Muggles too."

"I shall enjoy the variety, I think." Malfoy was still stroking Harry's cheek, palm wrapped around Harry's throat. Harry had leaned way back, almost relaxed.

"Draco Malfoy," someone said, and Harry made a mistake and looked up. He looked back down in a hurry, heart pounding. That old, greasy-haired drunk from Bellows was standing right next to them. He wasn't supposed to be here. Harry had been following him around for weeks. He was well familiar with his habits. This was completely out of order. And a problem, because he'd seen Harry, in this same disguise, in Knockturn Alley. Which meant he could quite reasonably assume Harry was a wizard.

Although, he couldn't mention that thanks to those Discretion Charms at Bellows.

"Artemius," Malfoy said tightly. His grip on Harry's throat tightened. Oh no, this was terrible.

"What a lovely catch," Artemius said. "A wizard, I'm guessing?"

Damn. The man was working around the charm. Harry held his breath.

Malfoy laughed. "A wizard?" he scoffed. "Not him, his sister. Started Hogwarts this September. This one was her escort." He dragged his palm upwards to Harry's chin, forcing Harry to lean his head back. Harry could see the old wizard's face now. The man was staring at him with obvious desire. "He's too curious for his own good," Malfoy drawled. "Wandered around. Right into my arms."

God, that was a brilliant cover story, fabricated in a second with ease. Family members of Muggle-born wizards and witches had permission to visit Diagon. And Knockturn Alley by extension, though they rarely wandered there.

Artemius licked his lips. "I might see you later. In the dungeons."

"Unlikely." Malfoy tugged on the collar so hard Harry cried out. The pleasure that ran through him felt like an actual orgasm. It left him feeling weak and unbalanced. His cheeks burned and he could barely keep his eyes open.

He was still trying to catch his breath and gather his wits as Malfoy tightened his hand around his neck. "I don't share," Malfoy said tightly.

Harry felt more than saw Artemius slipping away.

"My apologies," Janeell said demurely. "I shall speak to him. He was out of line."

"That he was," Malfoy said.

There was awkwardness in the air now, and Harry wished he could do something to fix it, but it was up to Malfoy.

However, as it turned out, it was up to Marcus Flint. He bulldozed into the room, going straight for Malfoy.

"You pale-arse little shit!" he cried, and Harry clenched his fists. The lights flickered but no one seemed to notice.

"Mace the Ace!" Malfoy yelled back, leaning in and extending his free arm; the other stayed firmly on Harry's neck. Malfoy and Flint clasped their hands and bumped their fists in a coordinated kind of greeting a pair of teens might do. "What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked, laughing.

Flint spread his arms. "Owning shit."

"No way. You?" Malfoy honestly sounded surprised. So was Harry. He hadn't expected the owner to be someone he sort of knew. Or that he was Malfoy's friend, apparently.

"Yeah, yeah." Flint retreated a few paces to sit on one of the armchairs. "I hooked up with Janeell here nearly a year ago. She was having some trouble. I came to the rescue. Business is blooming."

"I've noticed," Malfoy said. "Quite a few people here. So you're the one who made it bloom?"

Harry wondered if Flint could tell there was a hint of resignation in Malfoy's tone. As though he was disappointed to learn his former teammate was not only mixed up in all this, but was almost certainly the one who had come up with the idea of Red Hail. It would fit the timeline. A recent change in management and new ideas bringing profit.

"Damn right," Flint said. "Opened another place not far from here. Catering to a different clientele. You know me, I like 'em girls."

Oh, this was new information. Another place like this where wizards could toy with witches and Muggle women.

"Although," Flint said, "that's a lovely specimen you have here. Could almost make me forget my preferences."

Predictably, Malfoy's grip on Harry's throat intensified, and Harry had little choice but to lean back onto Malfoy's thigh and extend his neck. Malfoy eased his grip and lazily dragged his fingertips over Harry's skin, from the collar down to Harry's chest. He didn't acknowledge Flint's praise. "I never knew you're so entrepreneurial," he said.

"Neither did I." Flint snorted. "Fell on some bad times after you-know-what. Rose up like a phoenix from the ashes."

Harry took a peak at Janeell's expression. Her smile looked frozen on her face. There was a chance she didn't like Flint very much. Flint seemed to have wrestled her own business out of her hands. That was good. She'd be more likely to cooperate.

Malfoy had to explain all his travelling plans again and tell Flint where he'd been all these years. Time was slipping away from them. From Harry too, because he'd been put in this weirdly relaxing position, everyone ignored him, and Malfoy kept caressing him. Harry had to force himself to focus.

Carefully, he reached down to grip Malfoy's ankle and give it a little squeeze.

Malfoy didn't react, but he had to know it was a warning, and he should get on with it.

It took Malfoy a few minutes to find his opening. Flint mentioned Portkey travel made him sick, and Malfoy took his chance.

"I got used to it," he said. "Can't get used to being treated like dirt at every jumping point."

"What? Still? It's been years."

"I've got a record. It gets pulled up whenever I travel through official channels. And I can't risk travelling through unofficial channels. They search my luggage. Would confiscate a Calming Draught should I dare to bring it with me. Examine my wand. Catalogue every spell I cast going back three months."

That was news to Harry. As far as he knew, Portkey security wasn't supposed to harass everyone with a record. Malfoy could have been exaggerating, but he sounded so convincingly bitter about it.

"Merlin's balls," Flint spat out. "Self-righteous sons of whores."

"I make do. It's not easy. Every time I travel somewhere new, it takes time to find a good supplier for potions and uncertified wands."

"Hm." Flint cleared his throat. "Why, Draco. Why would you need things like that? What are you up to?"

Malfoy huffed out a laugh and started toying with the silver ring on Harry's collar. Harry braced himself, guessing that was a warning.

"Oh, I have acquired a taste for certain things," Malfoy drawled. "These days I like my toys… mellow." He tugged on the ring, and Harry gasped, but Malfoy kept tugging and tugging. Harry couldn't contain his reactions. He moaned and squirmed, undoubtedly giving quite a wanton show, but he didn't even care. God, it felt good. Harry was close to coming for real. Even when Malfoy stopped tugging on the ring, Harry was still rocking his hips helplessly, head thrown back, body melting against the sofa and Malfoy's legs. He caught an upside-down glimpse of Malfoy's face. His gaze was dark. Harry moaned again, half-faking it this time; the effects were subsiding.

Flint was laughing. "What's he on?"

Well, wasn't that embarrassing? Flint thought Harry was drugged up or something. And surely he realised the collar was charmed. But apparently Harry's reactions still seemed excessive to him. Damn, Harry loved this charm.

"This one?" Malfoy smirked. "Nothing much. He's a rare find. I got lucky. Not something I can always count on. And unfortunately I get bored easily." He tugged on the ring again, and Harry shivered. He squirmed and moaned some more too, but he was mostly faking it. Or so he told himself. He wondered if Malfoy was telling the truth, and he did get bored easily. "I could use something more effective," Malfoy said quietly, and suggestively, "for my travels."

"Oh my." Flint huffed out a laugh. "Janeell, do you hear that? He's fishing. Isn't he fishing?"

"I hear it," she said. "He thinks we can help."

"Alas!" Flint was still laughing. "You know, I love saying alas. Thanks for the excuse, mate." He blew out a breath and sounded regretful when he added, "I don't know what you heard, but I doubt I can help."

"Well, I heard someone invented harmless red dye, which if struck with a clever atmospheric charm, transforms into not-so-harmless red hail. And I heard this is where one might get it."

A moment of silence followed. Harry held his breath.

Janeell's tinkling laugh sliced through the tension. "Have you now? I heard you can get Red Hail pretty much everywhere. I have no doubt our clients use it. It's quite popular. But to be honest, we don't check. We're not Portkey security."

"Yes, but see, I don't need Red Hail. I need the dye. I need to get it past security."

"Draco, Draco," Flint sighed. "Sounds to me like someone's snitching and snitching wrong. I'm sorry. I can't help you, mate."

"I don't know anything about snitches. But some of your patrons lack discretion. And wits."

Another moment of silence followed.

"Drunken fool," Flint growled, and Janeell promptly hissed, "Marcus."

Harry couldn't look around, but he could guess Malfoy had glanced at Artemius. An improvisation, and a risky one, but it seemed to have worked.

"Don't Marcus me," Flint said. "I told you Artemius is a liability. Unlike Draco here. He's my mate. I taught him everything he knows about Quidditch, do you know that?"

Malfoy laughed, but didn't confirm or deny it. Harry suspected he was fuming at that proclamation.

"I still have that Nimbus 2001," Flint said fondly. "Works like a charm. Your father knew how to pick the very best."

"Yeah," Malfoy said, a catch to his tone.

"Oh man, I'm sorry," Flint said. "It's shitty what happened to him."

"Yes, well. He made his choices. He snitched on his friends and spent his last days regretting it."

Was that true? Or Malfoy simply took the opportunity to distance himself from his father's actions? Condemn them without saying so explicitly. Malfoy was about to sell out his friend too. Become a snitch himself.

"Marcus," Malfoy sighed. "There's nothing for me here. I'm unwelcome in most circles. I'm leaving, and I doubt I shall return soon. Perhaps another visit in five years or so."

That sounded true. And sad.

"I don't need a little something," Malfoy went on. "I need a stash. Assuming you don't have gallons of the stuff stored, I'll take every drop you've got. Pay on the spot."

"On the spot?"

Harry chanced a glance at Flint. He looked surprised. And eager. Janeell didn't look too happy, though.

Malfoy shifted and finally removed his hand from Harry's throat. Harry couldn't see it from his position, but he guessed Malfoy had taken out a little golden plate from his pocket.

"The goblins gave me this," Malfoy said. "Makes things easier, considering all the travelling I do."

Flint whistled. "I heard about those. The goblins don't like handing them out."

"Yes, well…" The smugness was obvious in Malfoy's tone.

Harry had heard about these little golden plates, too, even before Malfoy showed it to him. They gave their owner an option to authorise a transfer of gold from afar. And it wasn't true goblins didn't like handing them out. They loved it, but the fees were enormous. A waste of gold for most wizards. But Malfoy had gold to waste.

Flint was well and truly in the bag. "It'll take some time to pack it all up," he said.

"I've got time." Malfoy's hand was back on Harry's throat. He tugged on the ring too, lightly, and though it felt amazing, Harry's moan was faked. "I meant to spend a few hours here anyway. See what novelties are on offer in the dungeons."

This was honestly going well — Flint sounded pleased and convinced, promising exciting novelties — but they absolutely didn't have time. By Harry's estimate, they barely had fifteen minutes, possibly less.

"I would like to see what you have first," Malfoy said. "Arrange the details."

Harry tensed, but surely that was a reasonable request.

"Of course." Flint smacked his thighs. "We can go right now."

"Wonderful," Malfoy said. "Up." He tugged on the ring again.

Fighting the sensations, Harry scrambled to his feet. He stole a glance at Janeell and caught her staring at him. Was the Veil wearing off? Surely Malfoy would notice.

All four of them moved through the room, towards one of the many exits. Flint led the way, Malfoy followed, and Harry trailed after him, listening to the click of Janeell's heels tapping against the floor behind him.

They went down a narrow, torchlit staircase. No more marble and lavish decorations; the lower levels looked like a proper dungeon, cold and dark, with winding, shadowy corridors.

They reached a fork, and the clicking sound of Janeell's heels stopped.

"Darling," she said.

Harry had no idea if she was addressing Flint or Malfoy, as he was determinedly looking down.

"Yes?" Malfoy asked.

"I'm terribly sorry," she said, "but Muggles can go no further."

Well, shit.

Malfoy was silent for a moment too long. "I hate leaving my things unattended," he said with a forced drawl.

"But, darling," Janeell cooed, "you left your wand unattended in my lobby. Surely, you can do the same with your toy?"

Was that a threat? Reminding Malfoy he was wandless?

This was terrible, but not completely unexpected. It meant Harry would have to act faster, before he got a visual confirmation that Flint was manufacturing and selling Red Hail. Harry was willing to bet his life that Flint bought the whole thing and was eager to show Malfoy his precious stash, and Janeell had doubts and meant to hold Harry back to question him or use him as leverage, but he wasn't prepared to bet Malfoy's life on it. It was still possible Harry was wrong, and Flint recognised the danger, and was taking Malfoy to a secret room where he'd kill him. And who knew? Maybe the Red Hail was manufactured in a completely different location.

Harry had little time to spare. Not getting Malfoy killed had to take precedence.

"I'll keep him attended," Janeell said. "Right there. I promise."

Harry wished he could reassure Malfoy somehow. With a sign, a look, something, but both Flint and Janeell were watching them like hawks, and Harry was supposed to be enthralled.

"You're too kind," Malfoy said. "I appreciate it."

Harry relaxed somewhat. He was worried Malfoy would start insisting, which would definitely be suspicious. And Harry couldn't do much with an armed wizard on one end, an armed witch on the other, and Malfoy in between. It was just too risky. He needed a better moment.

Malfoy almost left, but then stepped back and reached for the silver ring. "Behave," he said, and tugged hard.

It was a miracle Harry managed to keep standing when pleasure shot through him. His knees buckled. "Yes, sir," he breathed out, shooting a quick look at Malfoy's face. Malfoy's intense stare was in place, but Harry couldn't know what he was thinking. Leaving Malfoy unprotected wasn't exactly the plan, and Harry suspected this vicious tug on the collar was meant to be an actual punishment. Malfoy was upset.

"Come," Janeell said, stepping forward, and Harry followed her. He was now finally free to look around. Flint was leading Malfoy further down the corridor, straight ahead, but soon shadows enveloped them and Harry could see nothing.

Janeell opened the door for him, and Harry stepped in, readying himself to react if she tried to lock him in, because that would make things much more complicated, but she stepped in too and closed the door behind them.

The room looked exactly the way Harry imagined it would. Like a place meant for torturing someone, filled with chains, whips, paddles, a variety of sex toys, and all kinds of structures, a mix of wood, metal and leather, where one could presumably be tied up in various positions. Malfoy had expressed his distaste for the dungeons, and Harry could now see why. Malfoy liked light and warmth and comfort. Like that cosy little room at Bellows.

"You're such a lovely little thing," Janeell cooed, and Harry somehow resisted rolling his eyes. He was half a foot taller than her. But she thought him a well-trained Muggle, eager to please and made mellow through magical means. "Look at me, dear." She placed her finger under Harry's chin, and Harry lifted his head.

"Gorgeous," she said. "And such a good boy too."

Harry deliberated for a moment. "Thank you," he said, as sweetly and shyly as he could.

Surely Flint and Malfoy reached the storeroom by now. Harry didn't want to act too soon and risk catching up to them before Malfoy had been granted entrance. Odds were the storeroom was well-protected, and Flint would do them a huge favour if he took down the protective charms himself.

Harry focused on Janeell. She was wearing tight, shiny robes, and honestly Harry couldn't see where she kept her wand, but it didn't matter. He could grab her, search her—

"Now…" Her wand appeared in her hand, seemingly out of thin air. She pointed it straight at Harry's face. "You and I will have a little chat. What do you say?"

Oh, she likely meant to Imperius him.

But… her wand was right there.

Harry reached up and plucked it out of her hand.

Her eyes widened and she took a step back. "You are a wizard! I knew it. Artemius wouldn't look at you twice if you weren't."

"Great guess," Harry praised, raising her wand.

The moment he did so, the wand vanished and reappeared in her hand. Which was, admittedly, a surprise.

She smiled. "Thank you for the confirmation. I'm afraid I'm not easy to Disarm."

It was an impressive bit of magic. It truly was. "I don't like easy, anyway," Harry said, and then cried out, "Expeliarmus!"

Her wand was torn out of her hand and flew right into Harry's.

Now she looked properly shocked.

"Don't feel bad." Harry grinned. "I'm just really, really good at that spell."

Her face went blank. "You," she gasped.

Oh, the Veil must have been wearing off.

"Me," Harry confirmed. "Stupefy!"

The red spell hit her right in the chest and she went down in a heap. Harry bound her with another quick spell, and swung around, opening the door with a whoosh.

He sprinted down the corridor, where Flint and Malfoy had disappeared, cursing when he realised there were four doors to choose from.

A sudden cry of pain made his stomach drop. Guessing the direction and praying he was right, Harry burst through the door on his left.

Malfoy was pressed up against a wall with Flint standing a little further away, his wand raised.

"Crucio!" Flint cried, at the last second directing the spell at Harry rather than Malfoy.

"NO!" Malfoy bellowed, but Harry was ready. He ducked and yelled, "Stupefy!"

His spell hit Flint in his stomach and sent him flying back. His head connected with the wall with a dull thump. Harry might have been a tad overzealous.

He ran to Malfoy, who was breathing heavily, still leaning back against the wall. His face was flushed and his hair in disarray.

"Are you all right?" Harry patted Malfoy down, possibly a little frantic. "Did he hurt you? Did he Crucio you?"

"Hardly." Malfoy straightened, batted Harry's hands away and ran his fingers through his hair, visibly trying to collect himself.

It did seem like he was all right.

Only then Harry looked around. The room was filled with shelves stacked with rows and rows of red vials. There were three workstations here too. So Flint had taken Malfoy exactly where he had said he would. But clearly something went wrong.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "I was so sure he bought it."

Two pink patches blossomed on Malfoy's cheeks. He raised his chin. "Well, he changed his mind."

"But why?"

"I don't know." Malfoy sounded defensive. "Why did you allow us to get separated? If you're so good at wandless spell-casting, you should have taken them down the moment they suggested it."

"I'm not that good," Harry said. And they'd been separated for two minutes, he might have added, but he feared Flint had hit Malfoy with a Cruciatus Curse. It didn't seem to work right, and that was why he had tried again, but it must have been painful because Harry had heard that cry of pain. That shouldn't have happened. "Sorry," Harry added.

Malfoy seemed composed now, and all he did was shrug and jerk his head in acknowledgement.

Harry hurried to Flint's side to check on him. He'd have a nasty concussion, but he was alive, which was a relief. He also had a broken nose. Which made no sense. Harry's spell had hit him in the stomach, and Harry had slammed him into a wall, but…

He picked up Flint's wand and went back to Malfoy.

"Here," he said. "Better keep this."

"Why?" Malfoy asked irritably, even as he accepted the wand. "Am I meant to help you fight off their security? That wasn't the deal."

"No need." Harry's gaze was on Malfoy's bloody knuckles. "Just a precaution. I'll feel better if you're armed."

This was the easy part. These people didn't have an army guarding the place, and Harry had a wand.

"Stay back, but not too far," he said. "I'll deal with their security. Luckily, all their clients are unarmed. I'm sure the reception wizard could be persuaded to tell us how to get our backup inside. This is almost over now. It all worked out." He smiled, a bit tentatively. "Well done."

"You're too arrogant for a bloke in a skimpy outfit," Malfoy grumbled. "Who had nearly gotten an innocent civilian tortured and killed."

"You're fine," Harry said, turning around.

"Potter," Malfoy called, and Harry turned back. "Thank you," Malfoy said, heartfelt.

Harry frowned. "For what?" Malfoy had done him a huge favour.

Malfoy's lips twitched as he pointed at the top of Harry's head and then made a downward sweeping motion with his fingers. "For this visual. I shall never forget it."

Harry laughed.

"Is this a priority?" Padma asked, for the second time. "We have work to do out there. Why are we hiding in the van?"

"There's a small army of Aurors out there," Harry said. "They'll manage without us. Play it again."

She rolled her eyes, but played the recording again.

Flint's guffawing blared from Padma's recording device. He was ranting about Harry. He had randomly started telling Malfoy how Harry Potter was in charge of the Red Hail investigation and was hot on his heels. Kept saying he was an annoying piece of shit. "Just like he was back in school. God, you remember? Skinny, speccy thing, always full of self-righteous indignation?"

Malfoy was laughing and agreeing with him.

Then Flint said, "He fucked it all up for us when he took down the Dark Lord, and now he's trying to fuck me up again. Well, he won't get a chance. I'm done with his shit. I'll get my hands on him. Slow, painful death is what he deserves."

"Quite," was Malfoy's clipped reply.

But Flint went on. "Or maybe I should trap him here for a bit. Wouldn't that be something? He needs a good lesson. A real dose of humility. I could tie him up here in the dungeons and turn him into a whore. Yeah, I might do that. Can you imagine? What a nice toy he'd be. I'd let everyone who wants have a go at his arse—"

There was a long pause.

"What's your problem?" Flint asked.

His question was followed by a sickening crunch and a cry of pain. The one Harry had heard. Flint was the one who had cried out — after Malfoy punched him and broke his nose.

A whoosh and a thump could be heard next. That was Flint magically slamming Malfoy against the wall. And then Flint yelled, "Crucio," and Harry yelled, "Stupefy."

Padma stopped the recording. "I mean, we couldn't exactly tell what happened and could do nothing anyway, but it sounds like Malfoy fucked up in the end."

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning. Malfoy did fuck up. Got angry and acted impulsively. Just because Flint was talking big, likely to impress Malfoy.

This was very interesting.

"Does it matter?" Padma asked. "You plan to give him a hard time about it? He's not an Auror. He did good. And all's well that ends well."

"Agreed. I just wanted to know what triggered him."

She snorted. "You got yourself a new fan, I reckon." She checked him out. "It's the leather pants."

"Mm," Harry said. "Can you handle things on your own here? I want to make sure Malfoy gets home all right."

"No, it will all fall apart without you." The sarcasm was hard to miss. "You need to hurry back, though."

"Now you're contradicting yourself."

"I'm not. I just don't want you getting laid while we stay behind and work. It's not fair."

"You won't work. You'll just boss everyone around. It's a vacation for you."

"So you do plan to get laid? Harry Potter." She grinned and reached over to tug on the silver ring of Harry's collar.

Nothing happened.

Harry was outraged nonetheless. "That was horribly inappropriate."

She shrugged. "Got curious."

Shaking his head, Harry moved towards the door.

"Hey, ask Malfoy to tell you the incantation for that spell he put on your collar!" she yelled after him. "I really, really want it!"

Harry flipped her off and exited the van.

Malfoy was sitting on a stretcher the Healers must have Conjured for him. They were busy examining the captured patrons, but had found the time to make sure Malfoy was all right and healed the bump on the back of his head as well as his bloody knuckles.

"Here," Harry said as he approached him. He handed Malfoy his wand. "Sorry it took so long. Every little thing has to be processed and labelled."

Malfoy took the wand with a shake of his head. "This looks like pure chaos to me."

"Well, it is chaos. The Healers and the curse-breakers are having a hard time guessing who is here consensually and who isn't. Very tricky business."

"And the other establishment?"

"Zach is there. They got inside. Also chaotic."

Malfoy nodded slowly. "Zach. Zacharias Smith, an Auror. I had no idea. He was a right arse back at school, as far as I remember."

"He's still an arse. A good Auror, though." Harry grinned. "He wasn't the only arse back then."

Malfoy snorted. He didn't try to defend himself. "It's funny," he said instead. "This is the second time you're giving me my wand back."

"It is, yeah." Harry had returned Malfoy his wand after his trial. By owl post. "Although, I wasn't the one who took it this time."

"I mean, in a roundabout way, you did. You got me into this mess."

"Any regrets?"

"None." Malfoy stood up. "I like this do-gooding business. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy."

Damn. Malfoy was grinning one of those flirty grins Harry had fallen for so easily a month ago.

"Come on. I'll take you home," Harry said.

"Take me home? Do you imagine I'll be walking to Wiltshire? I'll Disapparate. It'll take two seconds."

"I'll feel better if I get a visual confirmation you've arrived home safely."

"Ah. Well, I wouldn't want to deprive you of a visual confirmation. Though, I've assumed you have things to do here."

Harry shrugged. "I did my part. I caught the bad guys. The others should pull their weight."

"Are you really such an arrogant arse or you just want me to think that?"

"Yes." Harry grinned, and then grabbed Malfoy's arm. "Come on. Disapparate us."

"So much for taking me home," Malfoy grumbled, but Disapparated them in front of the Malfoy Manor, rather neatly and quickly. Harry didn't even get nauseous.

Malfoy didn't turn him away the moment they got there. He had more questions about what would happen to Flint now, how many years in Azkaban he'd get, what would happen to the others, and as they made their way to the house Harry explained he couldn't know that yet. Flint and Janeell would certainly spend a lot of years in Azkaban; the others, though… It was a big mess. Everyone would claim they'd been wronged and enthralled by the Red Hail, and it wouldn't be easy to determine if that was true or not.

The Manor was cold and dark, but Malfoy promptly lit up the fire in the big fireplace in the drawing room and levitated quite a few logs to the hearth. "You know, I always hated Flint," he said as he stoked the flames. "He seemed a bit psychotic. Half the time he'd suck up to me like I'm royalty — mind you, I was twelve — but then he'd forget himself and yell and wave around those mammoth hands of his, and I thought he'd kill me."

"Well, you got your revenge, then."

Malfoy snorted. "Sure."

The fire painted the room yellow, and Harry could feel its warmth now. They could sit down, have a drink, but Malfoy wasn't offering.

"Where's your mother?" Harry asked. The Manor looked deserted.

"Oh, she left as planned. I told her I'll stick around for a bit. See if I can get you to expunge my record. Seems to me she thought I'd be wasting my time." He looked around. "And she didn't want to linger here. Too many bad memories."

He wasn't wrong. Harry wasn't fond of this place either, to put it mildly. He was a bit fond of the owner, though. "You know," Harry said, "I never got a chance to say I'm sorry about your father. By the time I found out, you and your mother were already gone."

A little smirk appeared on Malfoy's face. "Were you sorry? Truly? Lucius Malfoy dead." He pursed his lips. "Cried about it, I'm sure."

It was hard to tell if Malfoy was angry or merely exasperated by Harry's claim. "I was sorry for you. Sorry you lost your father. I find it easy to sympathise when someone loses a parent."

"Yeah, well…" Malfoy looked lost in thought for a few moments. "He was… troubled after he got out of Azkaban. On one hand, he fucked up by following Voldemort; he knew it. On the other, he turned traitor and a snitch, and all his former friends hated him. His one comfort was alcohol. And special blends of various potions that kept him carefree. I tried one of his concoctions a few times. Great stuff. Addictive. Made it easy to go out and party without a care in the world. I certainly saw the appeal. But then one day he… mixed it up all wrong. Accidentally or deliberately… I guess I'll never know." He glanced at Harry. "I stay clear of dubious concoctions ever since."

"Sorry," Harry said. "For dragging you into this."

Malfoy tsked. "You're not, and I'm not. As long as you keep your end of the bargain."

"Of course."

"Good. It'll make travelling easier."

There was a kind of finality to that statement. Malfoy clearly expected him to leave now. He still hadn't properly acknowledged that night they had sex, still insisted he was only interested in getting his record cleared, failed to fess up he had lost his temper when Flint went on his sick little rant. Even if Malfoy had some feelings for Harry, it was all in vain. Because he was still planning to leave the country.

"I suppose I should go," Harry said, disappointed.

Malfoy nodded. "Pleasure doing business with you. We're not a bad team. Who'd have guessed?"

"Yeah." That was quite true.

Harry had already turned around when it occurred to him he hadn't acknowledged what happened between them either. Had made no offers. Said nothing about how much that night meant to him. He hardly knew how to do it. What to say. And he had no clue If he was being ridiculous and romantic, and was only hurtling towards a direct rejection. Which would hurt. Maybe more than simply leaving now.

But he didn't want to leave. Was he a goddamn Gryffindor or not?

"I mean," Harry said, "unless you want to bend me over the back of that sofa over there and fuck me."

Malfoy flushed instantly. His whole face seemed to transform: intensity crept into his gaze and his jaw tightened. "If you have time for that," he said, quiet.

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "Absolutely."

With two long strides, Malfoy was on him, kissing him, one hand on Harry's hip, the other tugging on the collar. That was too much, too soon, and Harry lost his bearings entirely. He clung to Malfoy's shoulders, moaned into Malfoy's mouth, those tugs on the collar driving him mad, but they were driving him mad the entire evening.

He did end up with his arse pressed up against the back of the sofa, though he was barely aware they had moved.

"Goddamn leather," Malfoy growled, struggling with Harry's trousers.

Harry sucked in some much-needed air, which he couldn't seem to draw in properly when Malfoy was kissing him and toying with the collar. Malfoy's desperate tugs on Harry's trousers had him laughing because the force of it made him jump up and down, and the trousers still refused to budge.

"For fuck's sake, vanish them," Harry panted out.

Malfoy huffed and fumbled through his clothes in search of his wand, and Harry had to laugh again.

He stopped laughing when Malfoy finally vanished Harry's trousers, grabbed Harry's hips and turned him around.

A few quick spells and Malfoy was pushing his fingers into Harry's hole. Harry clutched the back of the sofa, trying to adjust. Malfoy wasn't exactly gentle, but he reached up to grab the silver ring, tugging on it in time with his thrusting fingers.

Oh, this was what Harry had been craving for hours. He felt like he'd been edged this whole time, made desperate to come. He couldn't stop moving his hips, pushing his arse back to fuck himself on Malfoy's fingers.

He changed his mind some time later when Malfoy pulled out his fingers and pushed his cock in instead. This was what Harry had been craving the most. For Malfoy to fill him up and fuck him. Malfoy abandoned the collar and gripped Harry's hips, and Harry let himself fall forward, bending low over the sofa. His loose shirt bunched up high on his back, the front end brushing over his chin as Malfoy slammed in with force.

It was a quick, furious fuck that had Harry coming in minutes. All over Malfoy's fancy sofa, not that either cared. Malfoy followed soon after, crushing Harry's hips and panting, his thrusts erratic.

Harry's heart seemed stuck in his throat, beating madly. Malfoy pulling him up against his chest helped a lot. It was much easier to breathe then.

Maybe it was the way Malfoy was stroking Harry's chest, teasing his nipples, and kissing his neck, but Harry was compelled to say, "I got more time than that."

"Yeah?" Malfoy's breath was hot against Harry's skin. "Good. That's good."

The trip upstairs was an adventure. They couldn't stop kissing and Malfoy wouldn't stop tugging on the collar. They discarded Harry's stupid shirt along the way, and most of Malfoy's clothes too. About halfway through, Malfoy pressed Harry's arse against the railing, grabbed the silver ring and yanked it upwards, holding it tight. Harry cried out, throwing his head back, intense pleasure shooting down to his cock, getting it hard though Harry would swear he wasn't ready to get hard again so soon. Malfoy wasn't letting go, and neither did the building pleasure, and Harry would have come right then and there if he hadn't almost toppled over the railing.

Malfoy caught him, but it ruined the moment and got them laughing. At least they managed to reach Malfoy's bedroom.

It was still a mess. The bed was packed with trunks and clothes, and Malfoy hurried to toss it all onto the floor.

"Draco Malfoy, a slob," Harry declared sadly and got himself tossed on the bed for it, on his back, his legs parting on their own so Malfoy could lie down between them. Which Malfoy did promptly, but then Harry said, "You still have your boots on."

"Fuck," Malfoy said, and Harry laughed again as Malfoy scrambled backwards to pull off his boots and socks. Malfoy got on his knees then, but he didn't return to lie down on top of Harry; he stayed there at the foot of the bed, staring.

"What?" Harry had to ask. Malfoy's stares had been haunting him for a month.

"It was quite a shock, you know," Malfoy said. "Seeing some random bloke I picked up transform into you."

Oh, they were finally ready to acknowledge it.

Malfoy cocked his head. "Well, not random. I— I don't do that much. Pick up random blokes. He reminded me of you."

Hary held back a smile. What had Janeell said? That Malfoy liked dark-haired, athletic and fiery beauties? Did Harry count as such?

"Well, you hid it well," Harry said. "I had no idea the charms wore off."

"It was gradual. Your eyes first." Malfoy sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, quiet and pensive for a moment as though he was remembering that night. "Your hair next. Then your face. You were becoming Potter in front of my eyes. Thought I was going mad. But it made sense. You asking about Red Hail, investigating, disguised. I thought I was a suspect."

"You weren't."

"I got that, eventually. But I thought… God, he takes his job seriously." He laughed. "Prepared to give it up for the investigation."

"Last thing on my mind." Harry needed Malfoy to know that.

"What was on your mind? I still don't get it. You just… went for it. And you knew it was me."

"Um, I don't know. I— You were you, but you were different. Charming, exciting. The disguise made me bold, I guess. It spiced things up."

"All right," Malfoy said, dragging out the words, as though contemplating Harry's answer.

He moved then, back to where he was before, stretched out on top of Harry, supporting himself on his elbows so he could look down at Harry's face. "So that's what you're after? Excitement? Thrills? Spices?"

"Um, originally, I guess?"

"Originally?"

Time to be bold. "I'm after you now."

"Oh."

"Except, you're leaving." Harry suspected he was the one with an intense stare now, because he was trying to discern every minuscule change in Malfoy's expression.

Malfoy's brows furrowed. "Well, yes. I— elsewhere, people don't recoil when they hear my last name. It's easier."

Harry could have claimed things might be different now, after all these years, but that wouldn't be true. Plenty of people would still recoil at the Malfoy name. Portkey security certainly demonstrated that. Even some of Harry's friends still grimaced if Malfoy was mentioned. And even if Harry told them Malfoy had helped with the Red Hail investigation, which was classified information, it was no guarantee his friends would instantly change their minds.

"I guess it wouldn't be easy," Harry acknowledged.

"Yeah," Malfoy said, but there was disappointment in his expression. Harry could so clearly see it.

"I don't mind difficult," Harry added hurriedly. "Makes me fight harder."

Malfoy's lips twitched. "It usually makes me turn tail and run."

"Not today," Harry countered. "You saw it through. Got a good punch in, even."

Malfoy winced. "Stupid recording device."

Harry laughed.

"So smug," Malfoy grumbled, then bent his neck and… Harry felt Malfoy's mouth and tongue on his throat. He gasped as Malfoy tugged on the collar ring. With his tongue.

"Now you're abusing it," Harry panted out. "Careful, or I'll take it off."

"Hm." Malfoy shifted, rose up a bit, and then—

"Draco," Harry half-gasped, half-laughed as Malfoy pressed up the head of his cock to Harry's hole. "We were having a discussion. An important one."

"Well, I don't like important discussions." Malfoy was pushing in, and Harry shut his eyes and bent his legs.

Malfoy's cock slid in with ease. He lifted Harry's arse up on his lap and pushed in even deeper.

Harry definitely lost the thread of their conversation, but he remembered to open his eyes and look up at Malfoy. And yeah, Malfoy was staring with that familiar intensity that had Harry shivering and clenching around the thick cock filling him up.

Malfoy went slow this time. His hands were on the back of Harry's knees, keeping Harry's legs spread and high up, hips moving in a fluid, circular motion, his stomach visibly tightening when he drove his cock in deep. Harry forgot everything, capable only of concentrating on the pleasure every thrust gave him. Oh, and Malfoy's eyes of course. Bright silver surrounding bottomless black.

Malfoy made it last. Turned it into long, blissful minutes of quiet, intercepted by their gasps and the wet, slick slide of his cock. It was positively mesmerising. Hypnotic. Halfway through, it got intense, and Harry's gasps became moans. He felt his body writhe on the bed, desperate for release, his hips trying to answer Malfoy's thrusts. But that didn't make Malfoy change his pace, didn't make him speed up; he kept it slow and steady until the point where he couldn't seem to withstand it anymore either. Only then he sped up, slamming in hard and fast, and came.

Harry was close too, just a few more thrusts and he'd get there, but Malfoy stilled his hips, and smirked. Bracing himself, Harry sucked in a breath and held it. He just knew Malfoy would—

He cried out as Malfoy reached over and yanked on the silver ring. Harry threw his head back, his spine curving inward as Malfoy held the ring up, pulling the collar taut, holding it and tugging, sending wave after wave of pleasure through Harry's body. Harry heard his cries as he came, his spine curved like a bow, his cock twitching against his stomach, the streaks of his come making a mess there.

The pleasure released him slowly, only after Malfoy let go of the ring. The weakness that spread through his muscles was satisfying too; his body melted down onto the bed, soft moans still escaping his lips, his hips still moving in slow circles. He couldn't stop any of it. He felt Malfoy's gaze on him and knew Malfoy was watching him squirm in pleasure with hungry eyes. This was what Malfoy loved the most, he told Harry so himself — undoing his lovers with pleasure. And God, he was good at it. Harry certainly felt tamed.

When Malfoy had his fill of the show Harry had no choice but to give, he stretched out on top of Harry, his cheek on Harry's chest, his breath hot against Harry's skin. It took Harry a while to convince his arms to move, so he could reach up and stroke Malfoy's hair.

It was quiet and peaceful, but then Malfoy jerked his head up as though startled.

"What?" Harry asked, worried.

But Malfoy was smiling. "You really like me."

"Nah. I do this with everyone I meet. It's how I say hello."

Malfoy's smile widened. "No. You like me." He inhaled deeply. "I suppose I could postpone my trip. Rent a flat, reach out to old friends, maybe… find a job. Or a… thing to do. You know, to pass the time."

Harry bit his lip. "Can I be the thing you do?"

Malfoy laughed. His whole body shook with it. "I meant, a job-like thing to do, so I don't get bored. You're… You'd be the reason I'd stay, obviously. Seems wise to find more reasons. This could turn into a disaster, you're aware of that, right? It's us."

"I'm sorry, I— I'm not aware of that." Harry considered the matter some more, forcing himself to be reasonable. "Admittedly, I've been wrong before," he said. "I get carried away sometimes. Convince myself that this is it, and then it's not." Why had he confessed that? Malfoy messed with his head, made him too vulnerable and too honest.

Malfoy shifted so he could do what he did best — stare at Harry's face. He had a confession to make too; Harry guessed it by the way he seemed to hesitate. "Want to hear something crazy?" Malfoy said. "When I saw you, back at Bellows, when I really saw you, I realised I— I missed you. Back at Hogwarts, we were enemies, and after… we were nothing to each other. We barely—" The corners of his mouth turned upwards briefly, in a sad, fleeting smile. "But I missed you. All this time."

God, the emotion building in Harry's chest was nearly unbearable.

And it wasn't crazy. It made sense to Harry. They went from seeing each other nearly every day to never seeing each other. Yes, they were enemies, but that wasn't how things ended. It ended without any sort of resolution. They disappeared from each other's lives and all those high emotions went nowhere. And the truth was Malfoy had always stared at him with unguarded intensity. That part was nothing new. For a time, that had been a constant in Harry's life. Now that he thought about it, he realised he missed it. Missed the fire of Malfoy's gaze. He smiled. "We are rather obvious disasters, aren't we?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, I changed my mind. No disasters; I take it back." He pressed a quick kiss to Harry's chest. "You're not wrong this time. This is it." His eyes burned. "I'll make sure of it."

Believing him was the easiest thing Harry had ever done.