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It wasn’t fair. Out of everyone in the world that could have been cursed, why did it have to be him? Harry was a good person, he knew he was. So what kind of bad Karma did he have? Couldn’t it have happened to someone else?
“It’s not that bad,” Ron hedged, and Harry wanted to curse him and see if that mentality would remain. “It could be worse. There has to be a silver lining somewhere.”
“Ron!” Hermione hissed. At least she was trying, that was something.
“Fuck silver linings,” Harry argued. “It is that bad. If it was all of my senses that had been hexed, I might not be that upset. Only it wasn’t. The fucker hexed my sense of smell. Ron, I can smell everything and it’s nauseating.”
“What exactly does that entail?” The curious tone had him glaring at Hermione. Now was not the time.
“I can tell that Ron didn’t shower before he came over here.” He snorted when Ron sheepishly shrugged. “I can tell that you wrote a bunch of letters, the smell of ink and old parchment has lingered.”
Both the smells made his stomach twist. Before the ‘incident’ he wouldn’t have noticed how either of them smelt, that wasn’t something he ever paid attention to. Except now that was the only thing he could focus on. His sense of smell was amplified beyond normal amounts. It was almost preternatural.
It was difficult leaving the house. The barrage of smells gave him a headache, and several times a day it got to be too much, causing him to throw up. It was horrible; he was miserable and it wasn’t bloody fair.
“I’ve been away from work for two weeks. I can’t keep staying home, not when I have cases to finish.”
“I’m sure if you told Ashwood, she’d let you do the majority of the work from home.”
“Get real,” Harry scoffed, trying to discreetly block out the way they smelled. He loved them, he truly did, but they did not smell good. No one did.
“Ashwood is a petty bitch who likes to make everyone miserable. I can’t wait until she retires at the end of the year.” The MLE was in desperate need of a better department head. Preferably one that knew what they were doing and wasn’t approaching 110.
“What about the Healers? They can give you a note, can’t they?”
“Hermione, this isn’t school that I’m trying to skive. It’s my job. The Healers said that the curse shouldn’t affect my ability to work, there’s no way they’ll recant that now.”
The silence that followed was a bit awkward and he knew it was his fault, but wasn’t bothered enough to fix it. Harry knew his friends cared, but caring wasn’t what he wanted. Caring was just a reminder.
“Can we talk about something else?”
If not, he would have to think of some way to politely kick them out.
Ron scratched the side of his head a few times as his lips pursed. “I’ve got a lot of questions about you.”
Harry scoffed. That wasn’t anything new. Anyone he was remotely friends with was always bombarded with questions about him.
“What’s weird is that one of them was Malfoy.”
Harry’s head snapped up. “Malfoy? What did he say?” He ignored the way Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Said he had heard about the attack and wanted to know how you were doing. Strange, right?”
“Why does it have to be strange?”
“Well,” Ron looked at Hermione for help. When she didn’t meet his eyes, Harry snorted. “It was like he cared.”
“And?” Harry’s arms were folded. The way Ron floundered was honestly the only entertainment he had in weeks.
“I mean, it’s Malfoy.”
“And?”
Ron spluttered and Harry couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
“I don’t know why you think it’s weird. Malfoy has been… friendly lately.”
It was Ron’s turn to snort. “Maybe to you. Yesterday I went down to the Department of Records and he called me a bumbling bitter buffoon.”
“I appreciate the alliteration.”
“Hermione!” Ron threw his hands in the air when Hermione and Harry laughed.
“I’ll be in tomorrow, so you shouldn’t have to worry about him approaching you again.”
“What a relief,” Ron deadpanned. “I still think it was weird. I didn’t think you two were friends.”
“We’re not,” Harry said. They weren’t, not really. “We just talk sometimes.”
“About what?” Hermione asked, and uh oh, he knew that tone.
“Work.” Harry shrugged. “We both hate our department heads. Occasionally he talks about his dates that went wrong. We joke sometimes—well I do, he has no sense of humour. I don’t know, we talk about a lot of stuff.”
“That’s a friend, Harry,” Ron argued, eyes a bit too wide for Harry’s liking.
What did Ron know anyway? The only friends he had were in the room.
“Hold on,” Hermione said, lips curled upward. That never was a good sign. “How do you manage all that in the few minutes it takes to request a record?”
“Erm,” Harry said, fingers itching to fidget.
“Wait!” Ron pointed a finger at him. “That’s why you always take forever. It’s never busy like you say, is it?”
“It is,” Harry lied. Okay, so maybe he spent longer than he should in the Department of Records, but it wasn’t a problem. So why stop?
“What do you think, Ron?” Hermione nodded towards Harry, as if he wasn’t in the room. “You buying that?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“I can hear you.”
“Good,” they both said in unison.
“As much fun as this has been,” Harry began, tone dry. “And I mean no offence when I say this, but you guys positively reek and you should go.”
“How was that not offensive?” Ron asked, but he got up anyway. “See if we check in on you again.”
He loved to see them, but Merlin was he glad to see them go. Harry placed several Sterilising Charms around anything they touched as soon as he heard the whoosh of their Floo departure. The smell of the spell was preferable than what it was before.
Harry flopped on his sofa as he tried to prepare himself for tomorrow. He didn’t want to go. Being around Ron and Hermione had been bad enough, he couldn’t imagine the entire fucking Ministry. Maybe Ron was right, maybe he could talk Ashwood into letting him work more from home.
The irony of appreciating what he had before it was gone was not lost on him. He had taken his senses for granted and now he was wishing they would revert back. It was irreversible, the Healers had said. What good was magic if it couldn’t fix shit?
Harry’s lips curled when the spell fully sunk in. He hated that this was now his life—Sterilising Charms every time he came in contact with someone.
Fuck everyone who could smell normally.
Harry tried holding his breath every time he came across someone, but the Ministry was so packed he’d pass out if he kept it up.
“Fuck,” he whispered when a combination of 7 body odours packed into the lift assaulted his nose. He had been told to try and focus on one smell to block out the others, but they all stunk. Each and every smell was horrible; it gave him a migraine. What was he supposed to do?
“I love the smell of your perfume,” a lady said to the woman next to her. “I thought about making my own but I’ve never been good at that kind of thing.”
There was rustling before a jar was pulled out of a handbag that was snoring. “Do you want to try some? I just bought it this morning.”
The fragrance of the perfume might have smelt okay normally, but with his heightened sense of smell, it was nauseatingly sweet. Perfume was deceiving already: covering up natural body scents by masking them. Not only could Harry smell the perfume, but he could smell the underlying natural scent of the woman—the combination was sickening.
Harry couldn’t help it. “Please don’t. I may vomit if you do.”
The looks he got in return were offended, but he truly didn’t care. It wasn’t an exaggeration either. He wasn’t sure his stomach could have handled it.
When the lift opened on his floor, Harry ignored the glares as he stepped off. The relief of being away from too many people was short-lived, as the hallway to his department had even more people running around.
Why in the world did the Ministry have so many employees?
Normally, he was a friendly person. Harry wasn’t as kind as Luna or as comforting as Neville, but he knew people liked him—liked the way he treated them. As he stepped into the MLE department, he knew his reputation would soon tank.
Fuck they all stunk.
Harry tried placing his hand over his nose but it was just as useless as the Blocking Charms that didn’t filter out a single scent. How was he supposed to continue on like this? Would he really have to start working from home? Take a desk job instead of working the field? Merlin knows he’d lose it at a crime scene. Just imagining what that would smell like had his stomach lurching.
Life sucked, and Karma could fuck itself.
“Hey, Harry.” The greeting from one of his coworkers would have normally had him smiling, but all he could do was grimace.
“Jackson.”
“Are you—” Jackson walked closer and Harry covered his nose again. Musky cologne was the predominant smell, it was so strong it felt as if he was inhaling it. The cologne didn’t cover up the fact that he could smell bodily fluids on Jackson. Nasty arse didn’t shower before coming to work.
“God, you smell.”
Jackson paused, mouth parted and one hand held up uselessly. “Like what? It’s a new cologne but I thought it was okay.”
Harry knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t think past the nauseating smells surrounding him. “I can smell a lot more than your cologne.”
There was only silence as Jackson frowned, lips pursed. “I’m not sure what you—” Jackson’s eyes widened before pink cheeks and a flustered parting was his only response. He disappeared as quickly as he had come, leaving Harry eternally grateful.
It had only been twenty minutes into his day and Harry was this close to murdering everyone, Ron included. A migraine was already forming, his stomach was queasy and his patience had evaporated.
“That’s it.” Harry stood up, barging into Ashwood’s office. He barely registered the harsh glare directed his way as Ashwood looked over her shoulder while talking to someone in the fireplace.
“I apologise for cutting this short, Minister, but I have an employee needing my help.”
“No worries, I’ll send an intern with a list of my concerns for your department’s budget.”
A whoosh preceded a stifling silence, one Harry regretted causing. With the office being an enclosed space, it amplified the smell of burning wood. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the fireplace or if that was what Ashwood always smelt like. It wasn’t the worst smell he’d come across, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
“Potter, this better be good.”
“I need my own area, one that is secluded.”
Ashwood folded her arms as she looked at him with narrowed and judgmental eyes. “An office. You want your own office?”
“I don’t care if it’s the damn broom closet. I need something.”
“And why would I give you that? What makes you above everyone else? There are plenty of them with more seniority than you.”
“The rest of them don’t have a Sensory Condition,” Harry said, not willing to back down. “You have no idea what twenty people smell like in one room.”
“I’m sure the Healers told you that you’d have to adapt.”
He hated her, truly hated her. Old senile bat.
“Some smells are stronger than others, and if it becomes too much, I become ill. Unless you don’t care if I have a bin to vomit in every hour.”
Ashwood’s nails tapped against the desk as her lips pursed. “And how do you expect to work as normal if you can’t even handle coexisting with your coworkers?”
“A desk job, I imagine.” Harry folded his arms. “Claws is retiring next month anyway, you’ll need someone to man his position.”
“And if I say no?”
“You’d say no solely based on me having a condition? That’s discrimination, one I’m sure Human Resources would love to hear about.”
Ashwood stood up shakily—age definitely playing a part. “Are you threatening me?”
“Do I need to?”
Being an Auror had its ups and downs. Ups: He liked helping people. Downs: His boss, his coworkers, constantly fighting criminals—everything else.
Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to be an Auror for much longer, not with the way things were going, and especially not with a boss like Ashwood. Merlin, he couldn’t wait for her to retire.
“Fine.” Ashwood shook her head. “As you so eloquently put it, you can have the broom closet.”
Despite the fact that there were available conference rooms that hadn’t been used—ever—he didn’t even care about the slight, it meant nothing, it was a space he’d willingly take.
“Thank you.” The gratitude was far more than she deserved, but he had to at least pretend he could be cordial.
Leaving her office was good for his mental health, but horrible physically. The onslaught of scents was overwhelming, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it.
Harry threw open the closet. There were several brooms moving around, their Self-Cleaning Charms had never been deactivated, and they were sweeping at nothing; their bristles bent and others on the ground from overuse. Suspicious looking jars were on rickety shelves that were covered in dust as spiderwebs took up residence in the corners.
It certainly wasn’t a pretty sight, but nothing he couldn’t handle.
He deactivated the charms on the brooms, cleaned the shelves, disposed of the jars carefully and shrunk everything else before placing it in a bag and leaving it on the hook on the back of the door.
“Harry, what are you doing?” Ron asked behind him as Harry placed several Extension Charms around the room. He was a tad bit claustrophobic—the Dursley’s fault—and didn’t fancy being cramped in a too-small space if he didn’t have to.
“This is my new workspace.”
“The broom closet…”
The loud screech his desk made as it scraped along the floor was a vindictive win as everyone within earshot winced or covered their ears. He could have charmed it to be weightless, could have summoned it, but where was the fun in that? If he had to suffer then so did they.
“It’s somewhere I can work alone and not have to smell anyone else.”
The dubious look on Ron’s face didn’t go unnoticed, he just chose to ignore it. Harry knew that people didn’t understand, that it seemed as if he was just dramatic. But they couldn’t grasp it because their senses were just fine. Not understanding wasn’t an excuse for a lack of consideration though, it wasn’t something he would put up with. He didn’t kill Voldemort just to be made miserable by pricks who couldn’t see past their own privilege.
“Well.” Ron looked into the closet with a grimace that was probably supposed to be a grin. “This could be a silver lining.”
Harry glared, wanting to tell Ron where he could shove his silver linings.
“It’ll do for now,” he said, hands on his hips as he faced Ron, who was still standing there. “Did you need something? Or is it time to pretend to work while we really just play Exploding Snap for an hour?”
Ron snorted. “That’s not for another hour. I need to pull some housing records to see if my suspect really was on the lease.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Harry arched a brow. “I’ve not been assigned to the case.”
“I just figured you’d like an excuse to see Malfoy.”
There was a teasing glint in blue eyes, a look that Harry did not appreciate. “I should have never told you anything.”
A folder was pressed into his hands as Ron’s lips twitched.
“You’re just lazy,” Harry said, hands clenching around the folder. “You want me to do your work for you.”
“That too,” Ron called over his shoulder, already half-way to his desk.
Ron was wrong, Harry thought as he made his way down the hall holding his breath. He didn’t need an excuse to see Malfoy, could walk down there whenever he pleased. Not that he wanted to see him.
With the workday already underway, he didn’t pass many people on his way to the lift. Sure, the ones he did see smelt just as rank as everyone else, but it was marginally better than before. Harry’s foot moved restlessly as he thought of Malfoy. Socialising had never been something he was good at. While being around Malfoy at the Ministry had never been a chore, he was worried about it now. Would Malfoy smell as gross as Jackson? Would he smell like dust and old records? Would his cologne be overpowering?
Harry startled when the lift came to a stop, his mind too active to pay attention to much. He had to look around to make sure it was the right floor before he walked into the Department of Records.
The Department of Records had always fascinated him. Towers and towers of file cabinets with flying papers constantly zooming in and out. It was almost a maze as he walked the familiar path to the front counter, turning left twice, right once and left three more times.
The slight stuffy smell that Harry was used to was now ten times more powerful. The place wasn’t just stuffy, but stale too. Everything smelt old, dusty and it made him feel dirty.
No one was behind the counter, but that wasn’t a surprise. Malfoy was the only employee outside of the department head who rarely helped sort anything. He rang the bell several times, knowing how obnoxious it came across.
“If you ring that one more time, I will burn whatever you are looking for.” Malfoy’s voice was distant.
Harry rang the bell.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Malfoy snarled as he rounded the corner, wand raised and a harsh sneer in place.
When Malfoy realised who it was on the other end, he froze a few feet from the counter, mouth parting in a small, ‘oh’.
“Potter, what the fuck?” Malfoy straightened his robes after sheathing his wand on an arm holster. “I was busy.”
“Ron sent me to do his dirty work,” Harry said as he placed the folder on the counter, pointing towards a circled section.
“Coming to me is dirty work?” Malfoy asked with narrowed eyes and folded arms. “I’m hurt, thought I was the highlight to your day.”
Harry placed his elbow on the counter, chin on his palm and arched his brows. “I think you are confusing the two of us. I know I’m the highlight to your day.”
“I could be locked in a closet with Weasley with no way out and you’d still not be the highlight.”
“I can make that happen.” Harry bit his lip as he tried not to snort. “I am now the owner of a Ministry broom closet. Just say the word.”
Malfoy shook his head, a barely-there smile lifting one side of his lips before he moved closer to the counter, bringing a powerful gust of his aroma.
Harry’s knees buckled and he was barely able to clutch the edge of the counter to keep himself upright when the full force of Malfoy’s scent reached his nose.
“Are you okay?”
The concern was nice, but he couldn’t focus on that, it was just background noise. All his mind registered was Malfoy’s scent. It was unlike anything he had come across. Not only was it alluring but it was so good. He had a hard time deciphering what he was smelling, there was a subtle whiff of some kind of cleaning agent, but then there was the underlying smell of Malfoy’s natural body scent. All day the combinations of the things people put on their bodies made his stomach curl, but not with Malfoy.
With Malfoy, it blended well. Too well. The heady fragrance clouded his mind and he knew his eyes were half-lidded. Fuck. Malfoy smelled amazing.
“Potter?”
Harry jerked at the sound of his name coming from Malfoy’s lips as the smell grew stronger. Fuck. His mind wasn’t the only part of him that liked it. When his dick hardened, he whimpered in embarrassment.
He was so screwed.
“I—” He blinked rapidly as he stared into Malfoy’s concerned face. What was he saying?
Malfoy leaned forward, bringing another gust with him and Harry had to bite his knuckles to stop from groaning. Oh hell. What the fuck?
“Don’t,” Harry grit out, his voice embarrassingly hoarse. “Don’t come closer.”
There was a flash of something in pretty eyes before Malfoy crossed his arms and stepped away.
“You’re being weird—weirder than normal.”
Oh, he knew. Harry tried to say something but all that came out was a grunt. When Malfoy threw his hands up in frustration, the action brought more of his scent closer and Harry’s cock twitched.
“I gotta—” Dizziness caused him to stumble when he tried to straighten up, one hand gripping the counter and the other on his head. “I gotta go.”
Harry had taken two shaky steps away when Malfoy’s voice stilled his body, but not his cock, oh no, that pulsed.
“What about Weasley’s records?”
“He can come get them himself,” Harry said not bothering to turn around. He couldn’t, not if he was going to walk out of there with his pride intact.
The way back to his department was a blur, all he could focus on was the way Malfoy had smelled. It had lingered and he could have sworn he could still smell it. He had thought the disgusting scents of his coworkers would have wilted his erection, but no—that was as prominent as ever.
“Hey, where are my records?”
Harry bypassed Ron and opened the broom closet. “You’ll have to get them on your own.”
The sound of complaining was cut off when he slammed the door behind him. Several Locking and Silencing Charms had been placed before he collapsed into his chair.
“What the hell?”
What had happened? Harry had never smelled anything like that in his life. He tried to remember if Malfoy had smelled that good before the incident, but nothing stood out. Was something wrong? Everyone he had come across except for Malfoy had smelled horrible. Even his friends. Why would Malfoy smell good? What was different about him?
The longer he thought about it, the more uncomfortable his erection got. He was hard, so fucking hard that being tapped in his trousers was painful. Harry bit his lip as thoughts that shouldn’t be in his head were all he could think about.
It was wrong. Masturbating at work was wrong, weird and definitely wrong. Wrong. But he didn’t think it would go down any time soon. Maybe he could ignore it? Yeah, that was doable, totally doable.
Harry blindly grabbed a folder and opened his current case. Every other paragraph he had to start over. The words were there in his mind but nothing was registering. The harder he tried to focus the harder it was to ignore his hard-on. That wasn’t working. Giving up was the only option.
The sound his zipper made was loud in the silence of the room and part of him was ashamed. Only a small part though, because the rest of him was so on board. Trousers and pants were both halfway down his legs before the full weight of what he was going to do hit him.
He was going to jerk off to the memory of what Malfoy smelled like. The shame increased a margin, but not nearly enough to make him stop.
There were no Lube Charms, and he definitely didn’t have any actual lube on him. But there was a waxy oil spell that he used when making candles. That would have to do. It was preferable to a dry hand.
With a slick hand, a deep breath and bitten lips, Harry wrapped his hand around his cock. There was no way to conceal his groans and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It had been a while since he had last done this, the incident had left him morose, and Merlin knew it had been forever since he had slept with anyone.
When Harry closed his eyes and thought back to Malfoy, precome began to pool at the tip. Memories would never be enough, not when it paled in comparison to the real thing. He wanted to go back there, wanted to wrap his entire body in Malfoy’s scent and drown in it. That wasn’t normal, but when had he ever been normal?
Harry reached a hand down to fondle his balls, mouth parting at the sensation as his hand tightened around his cock. He wasn’t sure he’d last long, not with how worked up he was. When his mind not only pictured Malfoy’s smell but the man himself, Harry knew he wasn’t going last long at all.
Fuck, Malfoy was hot, way too fit for his own good and too charming. Harry had known that for a while, his mind had taken longer to admit but his body didn’t. If there had been any inkling that Malfoy saw him the same, he’d have taken him to bed instantly. Their tentative acquaintanceship would not have lasted through an unwanted advance, that much he knew.
Harry needed more, just thinking of Malfoy wasn’t enough. His eyes tightened as his hand increased the pace. He thought of what would have happened if Malfoy had known he was hard. His fantasy showed Malfoy smirking in his stupidly charming way before kneeling down and sucking him off. He wanted to bend Malfoy over and fuck him, wanted to let Malfoy fuck him too. Maybe he could have pushed Malfoy down and rode him. He was good at that, Quidditch taught him that.
“Fuck,” he whispered. The thought of riding Malfoy made him ache for more. Harry tilted off the chair enough that his hand moved away from his balls and went lower. Teasing his rim had him biting his lip.
Malfoy had nice fingers, and he imagined that his own were Malfoy’s long ones. Would Malfoy tease him? Make him beg for more than one finger? Would he use a dildo instead? The thought of a dildo inside him as he fucked Malfoy had his hips thrusting upward.
Oh God, he wanted Malfoy, wanted him more than he thought possible.
Harry was getting closer, the telltale clenching of his stomach a reminder. The closer he got, the faster his hand moved along his cock. He slowly pushed in one finger to the knuckle and moaned at the image of it being elegant fingers instead.
Thinking back to the Department of Records brought back the smell, and that had him whimpering at the remembrance of the heady scent. But what truly pushed him over was the thought of Malfoy whispering his name again, screaming it, moaning it, saying it. He wanted his name to be the only thing on Malfoy’s mind.
“Malfoy,” Harry groaned before he threw his head back and an orgasm rushed through him, come soaking his fingers thickly.
Fuck. The only sound in the room was his panting. Despite how wrong it all was, Harry didn’t regret it. He slumped down in the chair, trousers still on the ground as he used a Cleaning Charm on his hand.
The longer he sat there, the more it was hard to grasp everything. It came down to three facts: 1.) Malfoy smelled amazing. 2.) The smell alone caused boners. 3.) Harry was so fucked.
The only silver lining was that maybe, just maybe, it was a fluke. The next time Harry saw Malfoy, he might even stink and then everything would be right in the world.
Right?
Cowardice was a natural part of life, nothing to be ashamed of. Harry repeated that over and over during the following week as he dived behind people to avoid Malfoy, bribed Jackson to go to the Department of Records for him, and ignored everyone’s stares. They were judgmental, like they knew.
“What’s going on with you?” Ron asked as they sat in the breakroom. Their lunch had been delayed due to a massive potion raid.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry hedged, not wanting to look up from his Shepherd’s pie.
“You’ve been jittery,” Ron said between too-large mouthfuls. “Weirdly jittery too. Almost like paranoia.”
If Ron had noticed, that meant everyone else would soon follow. Harry stabbed his pie a bit too hard.
“Just been out of sorts because of my nose.” It wasn’t even a lie. “Makes it harder to be around other people.”
“You didn’t do that even when your nose was fine.”
Harry glared at Ron ignoring the amusement he got in return. “Be that as it may, it’s harder now. Would rather be alone.”
“I worry about you.”
“I know.” Harry looked down. “I think there will be a time when it gets easier to tolerate, but right now it’s just so bloody difficult.”
“I’ll be here whenever that is, I hope you know that.”
Harry smiled softly. There had been many mistakes in his life, but befriending Ron had never been one of them. Merlin, he loved him.
“Yeah, and so will your smell.”
“Oi!” Ron cried, fork pointed threateningly at him. “I will have you know I shower when I wake up and before bed. Just so you’ll quit complaining.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” A scoff had him snorting. “I appreciate that, I do, but it’s more your natural scent that bothers me.”
“I can’t change that!”
“I know.” Harry laughed. “Which is why I just have to get used to it.”
“And everyone is like that? No one smells decent?”
Harry didn’t mean to, but he tensed. The way Ron’s eyes narrowed was a bad sign. Ron was too observant for his own good.
“People stink.”
“But not everyone.” It wasn’t a question. It was a calculated statement, one that matched Ron’s eyes.
“There are varying degrees,” Harry said, hoping Ron wouldn’t look deeper. “Some smell worse than others. Some are tolerable while others make me want to vomit.”
“Mhm.” Ron gestured when Harry stopped, urging him to continue.
“Some aren’t… awful.” That was all Ron was going to get out of him.
“Harry, I don’t know why you try to pull one over on me. You know I’ll always—”
The sound of the door opening wouldn’t have bothered him, except what came with it was a familiar smell.
Fuck.
Harry sat up straighter, shoulders tense as he tried to subtly cover his nose. No, no.
“Malfoy!” Ron called, and Harry couldn’t help the groan he released. Why? Why did Karma hate him so much? “I thought you were too good for the breakroom.”
Harry hoped Malfoy would keep walking, go somewhere else, but not only could he hear the clink of heeled boots, he could also smell him getting closer.
Fuck.
“No, I’m just too good for you.”
When Malfoy sat across from him, next to Ron, he wished he could cover his entire face. The table was barely big enough for two people, let alone three. The limited space was smaller than the last time they had seen each other.
His memory of Malfoy really did pale in comparison to reality. Even his fantasies were lacking. The heady aroma released all tension in his body, leaving him with only enough awareness to remain sitting. All he wanted to do was bask in Malfoy’s personal space, fill all of his senses with only Malfoy’s scent.
Malfoy. That’s all his mind repeated, everything else was blank.
“—ou okay? Potter?”
“Fuck,” Harry swore, eyes clenching tightly, and cock filling up. That wasn’t fair. Malfoy wasn’t allowed to address him, not when he smelled so fucking good.
Stifling silence was a comfort as Harry tried to regain composure. His erection wasn’t easy to ignore. He was either going to lunge across the table and have his way with Malfoy, or he would go back to his office and jerk off, again.
“Fine,” Harry managed to grit out. It was severely mumbled by his hand, and he wasn’t sure they heard him at all. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it,” Malfoy said. “Not that you ever really do.”
“Prick.”
There was a slow tilt of Malfoy’s lips and oh there went a dozen more fantasies. Merlin what he would give to feel those wrapped around his cock. Would that mouth be equally talented? Thoughts of Malfoy rimming him were too much. His hand pressed against the bulge in his pants, just to ease the pressure.
It didn’t help. He needed to go.
“Potter?”
When Harry glanced up to see a bit lip and intense silver eyes, he wasn’t responsible for the small groan that passed through his parted lips.
He really needed to go.
Harry stood up, chair screeching before tipping over. All eyes were on him as the breakroom went silent.
“Sorry.” Harry couldn’t look at Malfoy, that would make it that much harder to walk away, and he needed to walk away. “My break is over.”
“What?” Ron called after him. “What are you on about? We still have—”
“Unfinished work,” Harry said over his shoulder. He waited until he was halfway down the hall before he sprinted the rest of the way to his department.
“You’re back early, I was going—”
“Not now, Jackson.”
Harry slammed the broom closet door before he pressed his head against the wood. Why? Why did Malfoy affect him so much? It had never been like that before. Not to that extreme. Anyone with eyes could see how fit Malfoy was, but that was just common knowledge.
But this? This wasn’t normal. Would he have to jerk off to Malfoy’s smell forever? Yeah, because that wasn’t creepy at all.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Harry tried, he really did. He wasn’t one of the strongest wizards for nothing. Only, his cock appeared to be stronger.
Six attempts. Six unsuccessful attempts at talking to Malfoy. There had been a particularly embarrassing one where Malfoy’s scent was so distracting that he misstepped and walked right into a filing cabinet.
For all of Malfoy’s faults, stupidity wasn’t one of them. He knew there was something wrong, Harry could tell. At times it seemed like Malfoy was a breath away from cursing him, but that was always the glaring sign for him to vacate.
There had been a half-success once. Sure, most of it was attributed to the distance between them as Harry refused to approach the counter and instead yelled what he needed. While he may still have got hard, his mind wasn’t as distracted as it usually was. A miserable silver lining—Ron would be proud.
He was running out of excuses. Both to Ron and Malfoy. There were only so many lies he could tell without confusing himself. White lies were easy as long as one remembered what they were, but it had been weeks of so many lies that he couldn’t remember a damn thing.
When Harry next walked into the Department of Records, Malfoy was surprisingly not in the back. There was a guarded look on his face, one Harry hadn’t seen since they first crossed paths after being hired.
“I—”
“Don’t bother,” Malfoy said before he looked away, fists clenched despite folded arms. “Weasley Flooed earlier, you can summon the papers and be on your way.”
“Malfoy—”
“I have work to do.”
A dramatic exit in the form of flowing robes would have normally had his eyes rolling, but as Harry got up to the counter, the action had spread Malfoy’s scent. His hands clenched around the folders when an erection began to form.
Harry hated it. Hated that he had been attacked, hated that he had to deal with fucked up senses, hated that Malfoy was the one who affected him, and hated that his cock didn’t always match up to what his mind wanted.
Back in his broom closet, Harry began to hate masturbating in general. How many times would it take before he rubbed himself raw? Even with the images his mind always conjured, there was no enjoyment this time around. Not when he could still see Malfoy’s expression whenever he closed his eyes.
Despite the come on his palm, trousers on the ground and libido sated, there was no satisfaction. He wasn’t sure if there ever would be.
“You’re avoiding Malfoy.”
Harry almost tripped over the bin on his way out the door at Ron’s voice.
“No, I’m not. Let’s go, we have stuff to do.”
“Now you’re avoiding talking about him.”
“Am not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am—”
“Harry, one of us has to act our age, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.”
He couldn’t help but snort. “I really don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You act like I don’t know you.”
“Oh?” Harry arched his brows as he walked ahead. “If you know me so well then what is it you think is happening?”
“I’m not sure,” Ron said, and before Harry could get a ‘ha!’ out, he continued. “I’m almost positive it has something to do with how he smells, but I also think you either want to kill him or shag him—haven’t figured out which one just yet.”
“That’s just—” He scoffed for emphasis but had nothing to add on. “Well, it’s something.”
“Uh-huh.” The patronising tone had Harry narrowing his eyes. “So what is it? Does Malfoy stink? You want him?”
When Ron placed a hand on his shoulder, Harry tensed before forcing himself to relax as he turned to face him.
“I ask because I worry about you.”
“No, you ask because you are a nosy git.”
“That too.” Ron grinned.
“It’s a combination,” Harry reluctantly admitted. “Most of it is the way he smells.”
“So he stinks?” Ron’s nose wrinkled. “What’s he smell like?”
“Well, the thing is…” he trailed off, looking at the ground, not able to meet Ron’s eyes.
“Wait.”
Oh, Harry knew that tone. That was the tone Ron used when he had a hunch, one that was usually right.
“You think he smells good, don’t you?”
Harry shrugged. “It’s not that he smells good,” he lied. “It’s just that he doesn’t stink.”
“Uh-huh,” Ron said, eyebrow arched and tone doubtful. “Is that why when he came into the breakroom last week you clammed up and looked seconds away from lunging at him?”
Well, that was embarrassing.
“He might smell a little okay.” That’s all Ron was going to get out of him.
“What’s he smell like?” Ron asked as he gestured for them to keep walking. “Probably something expensive.”
“It’s hard to explain.” He hadn’t been able to definitively say what it was. “I can smell whatever he uses when he showers, it’s very subtle but missing the abundance of scents that everyone overuses. But his natural scent, that’s what really—” Harry coughed when Ron snorted. “That’s what smells somewhat decent.”
Ron didn’t believe him, that much was clear, but he was too stubborn to drop the act.
“Has anyone else smelled good to you?”
“There’s that one lady in accounting, she didn’t smell bad but it wasn’t good either. More neutral, which was nice. Neutral is a hell of a lot better than say, well, you.”
Getting used to Ron’s scent was easier the longer Harry worked with him, but the first inhale was always a punch to the gut, one that left his stomach uneasy. Not that Ron was any different than everyone else in that aspect.
“Oi!” A hard jab accompanied the far too loud cry. “Wait, Mirabel is older than my great Aunt Tessie! How can she possibly smell better than me?”
“I don’t know, ask her!”
They walked in silence once they reached the lift. It wasn’t full, only a handful of people, but it was still too many for Harry’s liking.
“You know,” Ron began, lips twitching in a way that only meant trouble. “This could be another silver lining.”
“Ron…” Harry trailed off pointedly. If he had to hear anymore he was going to lose it.
“If you like the way he smells, why are you avoiding him?” Ron whispered far too loudly to count as one, causing the man next to him to scoot to the other side of the lift.
Lying, that was always possible. Gryffindor morals sometimes went hand in hand with lying—at least that’s the excuse Harry was sticking to.
“I’m not—” The look Ron gave him had his shoulders slumping. “I like it too much.”
“I’m not following.”
Harry closed his eyes. “His scent does something to me.” There was an awkward cough that did not come from Ron, and that was enough mortification for several lifetimes.
“Does something? Like what?”
“Or for fuck’s sake.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair. “He gets me hard, okay?”
The stifling and uncomfortable silence was deafening. Harry shifted on his feet the longer no one said anything.
‘Level 3: Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee’
As soon as the lift opened, everyone rushed to exit, some even giving Harry judgmental looks. Just lovely, fucking great.
There was a small snort behind him, and Harry was tempted to pull out his wand.
“Sorry,” Ron said between low chuckles that quickly became guffaws. “You ran out last week because you got an erection?”
“It’s not funny!”
“Oh ho,” Ron slapped his knee. “Yes, it is.”
“That’s it, you can go talk to the witness on your own.”
He had only moved one foot out of the lift before strong arms pulled him into a back hug. “I can’t apologise for laughing, because it’s fucking funny, but I sympathise with you.”
“Get off me, I’m going to reek like you.”
“See if I ever comfort you again,” Ron grumbled as he shoved Harry forward. The lift jerked as the gate closed and started moving up.
“Now do you understand? Being around him isn’t possible.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to spend time with him? That way you can get used to his scent? You can’t avoid him forever.”
“Maybe not forever, but long enough to procrastinate, and that’s good enough for me.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “He’s noticed.”
That caused the previous tension to return full force. “What do you mean?”
“Yesterday you tripped over Jackson’s bin to get away from Malfoy.”
“In my defence, he never comes down to our department!”
“And why do you think he did?” Ron threw his hands up in the air. “He said he was personally accompanying classified documents.”
“So?”
“When has Malfoy ever got off his lazy arse to hand-deliver anything? He was obviously there for you.”
“Not obvious enough,” argued Harry. “It didn’t seem that way to me.”
“How would you know? All you could see was the ugly carpet after you face-planted.”
Harry wanted to point out that he hadn’t face planted, it was more of a graceful fall, nearly dainty in a way, but Ron pointed a finger at him as the lift jerked to a stop.
‘Level 4: Department of International Magical Cooperation, Goblin Liaison Office, Department of Records, Spirit & Beast & Being Division, and Pest Advisory Board.’
“Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.”
“How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”
“Mind repeating that?”
The familiar drawl had Harry’s throat clamming up as his blood ran cold. Oh no.
When several memos flew into the lift bringing forward a gust of air, the all too recognisable smell was a sure sign that Karma didn’t just not like him, no, it detested him.
“Oh Merlin,” Ron whispered, panic making Harry’s nerves skyrocket.
It would happen to him. Fuck. He didn’t want to know what Malfoy’s expression was like. Was he disgusted? Amused?
“Potter?”
“Oh no.” Harry shook his head, refusing to look up. “Another time perhaps.”
“Wait—”
Harry slammed a hand on the side of the lift, making it jostle before it started moving upward.
“This isn’t over Potter!”
“Yes, it is!”
The silence that followed was just as uncomfortable as he felt. “I’ll have to die, that’s the only solution.”
Ron snorted, and Harry wanted to hate him a little bit. “Don’t be so dramatic. Maybe this is a good thing.”
“How is this a good thing?” Harry frowned at Ron, hands on his hips and lips pursed. “He knows I get off on his smell. That’s not a good thing.”
“No, he only knows that you like his scent—wait, you jerk off to his smell?”
“Now is not the time.”
“I beg to differ.” Ron’s lips were twitching, and Harry figured he could rethink the whole hating bit. “Now is a perfect time.”
“Do you like seeing me miserable? Is that it?”
Another snort had Harry glaring. Neville was quickly rising in best friend status if Ron kept it up.
“Fuck,” Harry swore, hands running through his hair as frustration mounted. “What am I going to do?”
“Talk to him.”
“Are you out of your mind?” He was aghast at the idea. “Ignoring him forever sounds a hell of a lot better.”
“I think it would be good for you.”
“How?”
“Malfoy didn’t look upset. I’d say he was intrigued more than anything.”
Intrigued. That was better than disgust… but still.
“Not enough to risk it.”
“Where is the cowardice coming from? You’re brave.”
“I’ve decided Gryffindor was the wrong house for me.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “You’re just as dramatic as him. I don’t know why I never considered you two together before.”
Ron’s words, unfortunately, had his mind wondering what they would be like together. He knew he was attracted to Malfoy, Merlin who wouldn’t be? But did he want anything other than that? He wasn’t so sure. Not that it mattered anymore, he was too embarrassed to face Malfoy again.
“Just tell me you’ll talk to him? Eventually?”
“Sure,” Harry lied easily. Not a chance in hell was that happening.
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
Well, that made two of them.
Avoiding Malfoy was harder than he thought it would be. Getting Jackson to go to the Department of Records for him was easy. Barrelling into what he had thought was an empty room when he caught sight of Malfoy’s retreating back was not—the people in the Minister’s debriefing seminar had not been amused either.
Harry was thankful he had the broom closet, it was an easy place to hide out in when Malfoy stopped by his department. The memos in the shape of birds that Malfoy sent, however, were a menace, they pecked him until he bled.
“I don’t know why you don’t just talk to him,” Ron said before swearing as one of the memos got him instead of Harry.
“You know why.”
“No, I know that you are a bloody coward, that’s all I know.”
“I can accept that,” Harry shrugged. “As long as I don’t have to face him.”
Ron clenched a fist around one of the memos before he threw it at Harry. “One of these days, you’ll have to act your age.”
“When I do, don’t die of shock,” Harry said, dodging Ron’s stinging hex. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No, you won’t.”
“No,” Harry agreed. “I won’t.”
Ron threw his hands in the air before walking away, but not before charming the memos to dive right at Harry.
“Ow, you fucker!”
Harry didn’t know why Ron cared so much what he did. It wasn’t like Ron had to be there for the conversation, so why should his opinion matter?
Before Harry left the department, he poked his head out the door to make sure the coast was clear. He ignored the snickers from his coworkers as he walked towards the lift. A gross smell had him moving against the wall to avoid the person walking by. Merlin, he hated the confined spaces.
A flash of blond hair almost had him freezing, but he quickly moved behind a stand that held flyers for the yearly Ministry charity ball. The smell of Malfoy was just as strong as ever, despite the distance between them. That struck him as odd, but Malfoy must have come the same direction.
When his dick twitched, Harry tried to will it away, tried to think of anything that would kill an erection. It wasn’t fair. His eyes closed on instinct, mind already thinking of what he wanted to do with Malfoy. Each time they crossed paths, Harry was impressed by a creativity he never knew he had as his mind created new fantasies.
The smell only got stronger, headier but he attributed that to his mind. Merlin, he both wanted and hated Malfoy’s scent. Part of him wanted to dig deeper, explore it all, but then the rest of him was disgusted at himself. It wasn’t normal for someone to be so attracted to a scent, right?
When enough time had passed, Harry decided to go to the lift at the other end of the hall, just to soothe his own paranoia. Only…
Harry clutched his chest when he turned around to be faced with Malfoy, whose arms were folded and eyes narrowed.
“What the fuck? You scared me.”
Unfortunately, even Malfoy catching him wasn’t enough to kill his erection—ironically all it did was make him harder.
“Good,” Malfoy drawled, a lone brow arched. “I used to think you were such a Gryffindor but bravery must have vanished as you aged.”
“I have bravery,” Harry argued as he tried to figure out how to leave with his pride intact. “It’s just on loan to someone else.”
Malfoy snorted. “You know, I thought we were somewhat friends.”
“We are.” It came out more of a question than anything. He wasn’t sure what they were, all he did know was that he wanted to leave.
“When you started avoiding me, and leaving the second I came close, I thought maybe you decided you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”
Harry froze as his hands fell limply by his side. That had never crossed his mind. “That’s not what happened. If I didn’t want to talk to you any more, I’d have told you so.”
“Like you told me about your dick?”
Words left him as a finger was raised and his mouth parted. Malfoy sure was bold.
“Speaking of your dick…” Malfoy trailed off pointedly, eyes trailing down his body before it rested on a bulge that his robes did not hide.
“Malfoy—”
“You really do get hard around me,” whispered Malfoy, eyes shining with something, probably malice knowing the bastard.
“I don’t mean to.”
When Malfoy continued to stare, Harry tried to angle his body away. “Can you not?”
“Sorry.” Malfoy grinned. There was a sparkle in silver eyes, and his nose scrunched in a way that was not distracting—it wasn’t.
He wasn’t sorry at all. Prick. Harry was going to tell him that too, but everything came to a halt when Malfoy stepped closer.
“What is it about my scent that you like?” It was a breathy whisper and fuck, that shouldn’t have sounded as good as it did.
“I heard your sense of smell was heightened. I didn’t quite realise what that would entail. I talked to a few of your coworkers. They said you told them they stink, quite rude of you.”
“It’s rude to me how bad they smell.” Harry was the one who had to smell them all day long, it was fucking torture. They could live knowing they smelled bad.
“What do I smell like?”
With each word he spoke, Malfoy drew one step closer and Harry couldn’t think let alone speak.
“Hm?”
The smirk he got in return was more of a smile, and the distinction stuck out to him.
“What do I smell like, Potter?”
A huff of air left Harry that was so close to sounding like a moan that he cringed. “Don’t, don’t say my name so close to me.”
“What does that mean?” There was so much amusement in his voice, so much so that Harry despised him for it.
“I can handle the way you smell.” Barely. “But I can’t handle both.”
There was a brief silence, one that Harry hoped would supersede an exit.
“You like it,” Malfoy drawled. “You like when I say your name.”
Harry shook his head, not willing to give Malfoy what he wanted.
Another step forward brought more of Malfoy’s scent, and thinking became a hell of a lot harder. “I wonder what you would do if I said, Harry.”
Harry’s knees buckled. He tried to grab hold of the stand but it wasn’t meant for his weight and it tumbled to the floor—so did he.
“Fuck.”
The best he could do was sit against the wall, legs extended, and wallow in his head. Fuck Malfoy and his perfect scent.
Heeled boots stood on each side of his legs and Harry groaned when he lifted his head to see Malfoy standing there, crotch way too close to his face.
“Fuck,” Harry repeated only this time more hoarse. Malfoy’s scent was so much stronger and his cock pulsed.
“You’re so hard,” Malfoy said, a finger so close to touching Harry’s face but resting inches away. “Tell me what you like about it? Hm? What about my scent does it for you?”
“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled, eyes on Malfoy’s leather trousers outlining thick thighs—fuck he wanted those around him. “It’s whatever you use to clean yourself and then your natural scent. The combination works.”
Malfoy’s head tilted to the side with a noncommittal noise. “I brew a cleaning salve. Doesn’t use unnatural scents or have harmful ingredients.”
Harry didn’t give a fuck what it was Malfoy used as long as he kept using it. “You smell so good.”
“I’ve gathered that.” Malfoy crouched down until they were eye level, arse pressing lightly—barely there—against Harry’s knees.
“I’m curious,” Malfoy whispered, finger coming closer. The suspense was killing him. Was Malfoy going to touch him or not? “What do you do about it?”
“Hm?” He blinked rapidly, eyes moving from the finger in front of him to end up focusing on a smirk—a smirk that had no right looking that good.
“What do you do after I get you hard?” Malfoy’s face moved forward, and Harry’s breath caught. “Do you ignore it? Or do you do something about it?”
His eyes closed on instinct when the tip of Malfoy’s finger briefly grazed his cheek. “I do something about it.”
“Fuck,” Malfoy breathed. “You get off to the way I smell. That shouldn’t be so hot.”
“More,” Harry said, mind hazy as he let Malfoy’s scent engulf him. “It’s more than that.”
The long fingers he had jerked off to gripped his shoulders hard as Malfoy settled firmly on him. The weight was just as pleasant as it was uncomfortable.
“Pardon?”
“I think about you too.”
Malfoy’s eyes closed as he took a shaky inhale, and Harry liked that it was getting to him.
“Like what? Tell me.” The demand held no heat the breathier it got, and that only made it harder for Harry to think.
“Your lips.” Harry traced Malfoy’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Thought about what you could do with them.”
“You like the idea of me blowing you?”
Harry nodded before the question really sank in. “And what they would feel like elsewhere.”
Chiselled brows merged before arching. “You want me to rim you?”
There was no way he could pull off nonchalant, so Harry didn’t bother trying. “Both.”
The grip on his shoulders tightened and he hoped that meant Malfoy was close to breaking, because Harry wasn’t sure his patience was strong enough to keep the small talk.
“Your fingers,” Harry continued, placing his hand on top of Malfoy’s. “They’re so long.”
“You like that?” Malfoy smirked, eyes heavy-lidded. “You want my fingers?”
“Yes.” Merlin, he wanted whatever Malfoy would give him.
“Then take them,” Malfoy said before placing two fingers against Harry’s lips. “Show me what your mouth can do and then we’ll talk about mine.”
Harry parted his lips, letting Malfoy’s fingers slide minutely as he breathed harder than necessary. When his tongue came out to play, it was barely-there licks.
“Don’t test me, Potter.”
“Or what?” Harry breathed, breath hot against the fingers of his fantasies. “What will you do?”
Narrowed eyes were his only warning before a strong grip to his hair had Harry gasping as he threw his head back. “Harder.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Malfoy swore before he did as asked. When lips parted enough to let out a groan, that was the moment Malfoy shoved his fingers into Harry’s mouth.
Another groan, only muffled, and Harry almost wished he could be loud. When the grip on his hair tightened, he started to actively suck on Malfoy’s fingers. Fantasies were one thing, but none of them were half as good as the reality. He didn’t want it to stop.
“You thought about my mouth, but what about yours?” Malfoy asked as he began to move his fingers in and out of Harry’s mouth. “Did you want to suck my cock too?”
Harry nodded before shaking his head, not sure how to properly explain himself without words. The furrowed brows returned, it was almost endearing.
“As always, you confuse me,” Malfoy said as he leaned forward. “You want my cock in your mouth?”
Another nod before Harry swirled his tongue over the tip of Malfoy’s fingers.
“But not suck it?” Malfoy’s lips pursed and before Harry could do anything, silver eyes widened. “You want me to fuck your mouth?”
Fuck yes. Instead of gestures, Harry let another groan be his answer. Malfoy pressed their foreheads together as his arse moved back and forth along his still very hard cock.
“The things I want to do to you,” Malfoy said, pulling his fingers out. “The things I want you to do to me.”
Harry couldn’t help but ask, “Like what?”
“I want to fuck you, Harry.”
That was it, that was his limit. Harry jerked up, the friction a brief relief. “Do it.”
“I also want you to fuck me.”
“Do it.”
Harry was an equal opportunist, he would have been stupid to turn down anything with Malfoy. Not after spending so long wanting him.
“Looking at you like this,” Malfoy murmured, wet fingers trailing down Harry’s cheek. “Makes me want to take you, here, right now.”
There were no words as his mind blanked and all he could do was thrust again.
“I’d let you.”
Malfoy groaned as his eyes closed and teeth worried his bottom lip. “I might be into exhibitionism occasionally, but not while at work.”
Work. Harry shook his head before he tried to sit up straighter, it was difficult with Malfoy on him. He looked both ways down the hall and grimaced at the people who were walking fast as they threw him dirty looks.
“We can wait until after work?”
Harry shook his head. “I can’t. Your scent lingers and I can’t focus unless I take care of it.”
Malfoy arched both brows. “You masturbate at work?”
“It’s the only way to help,” Harry said a little defensively. He was aware that it wasn’t right but it’s all he could do.
Malfoy lowered his head until his lips were a breath away from his own. “The more you talk, the more I want to reconsider waiting.”
“Then don’t.”
The display of emotions on Malfoy’s face was rare. It looked as if he was struggling.
“Where do you usually do it?”
“My broom closet.”
Malfoy mouthed ‘broom closet’ before grimacing. “I’m going to take you to my department.”
“You want us to fuck where anyone needing records can see us.”
“I’ll put a sign up.”
“And the windows?”
“It’d be a disservice to the world if people couldn’t see me in my naked glory.”
“You’re so conceited.”
“Do you want me or not?”
Harry’s head hit the wall as he groaned, this time of frustration. Malfoy tested his patience, it was annoying, but he wasn’t wrong.
“Unfortunately, I do.”
Malfoy wasted no time as he stood up and pulled Harry with him. “Unfortunate for who?”
“Me,” Harry mumbled as he followed Malfoy down the hall and into the lift.
As soon as they entered, the employees inside rushed out, and Merlin that wasn’t a good sign.
“Everyone knows what we’re about to do.”
Malfoy shrugged before closing the lift and winking at an old man walking by whose face was horrified as he looked between them.
When the lift began to move, Malfoy shoved him into the corner. “Part of me wants to fuck in here.”
Logically, Harry knew that it would never be a good idea, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild.
“What would you do if we did?”
Malfoy’s nose rubbed against his before lips were on his cheek, leaving open-mouthed kisses and warmth in its trail.
“I like the idea of me bent over, holding the rail as you fuck me. That way the people waiting to get in would see your arse first.”
“Always a Slytherin.”
“Would you have it any other way?” It was whispered so close to his mouth before Malfoy’s tongue swiped the bottom of Harry’s lip. “Have me any other way?”
“On your knees would be nice.”
“Oh?”
Malfoy dropped to his knees and Harry’s breath left him in a whoosh, the parting gasp loud in the silence.
“Like this?” Malfoy gripped Harry’s thighs before moving up slowly, inching towards his hips. “Is this what you imagined?”
“Fuck.”
“Me on my knees, your cock in my mouth and your hands in my hair?”
“Yes.” He had imagined that and more.
‘Level 4: Department of International Magical Cooperation, Goblin Liaison Office, Department of Records, Spirit & Beast & Being Division, and Pest Advisory Board.’
The lift jerked to a stop and thankfully, there was no one around as Harry pulled Malfoy up. It was a struggle trying to get the wandering hands off of him.
“Let me touch you.”
Malfoy’s hands were a distraction he didn’t need. Lips were parted, determined to make Malfoy see reason but all that came out was a choked noise as hands cupped his cock through trousers.
“That’s what I wanted,” Malfoy smirked, eyes brighter than Harry had seen before. “I wonder what other noises you’ll make.”
“You’ll find out,” Harry promised before he shoved Malfoy out of the lift.
“Oi!” Malfoy straightened his robes, sneer in place and eyes narrowed.
“We would never have left if we had stayed much longer.”
“I fail to see the problem,” Malfoy said over his shoulder, leaving Harry behind. “I told you, I’m into that.”
Harry would’ve liked to say that he was not, but his mind conjured images of the two of them fucking in public, eyes on them—whether it was positive or negative, it didn’t matter as long as they didn’t look away.
Maybe he was into that too.
There was no one in the hallway and with nothing to distract him, Harry’s eyes focused on Malfoy’s arse—and what an arse it was. He wanted to know what it would feel like as he gripped, rimmed or spanked him. Would a redness take over the alabaster skin?
Malfoy pulled out his wand and conjured a do not disturb sign before holding open the door. “After you.”
The Department of Records was just as dusty and stale as it always was, but to his lust addled mind, it was lovely. Harry had been about to head to the counter, but before he could he was shoved up against the side of a file cabinet that screamed in fright and spit out dozens of files.
“Hi,” Malfoy breathed, voice as quiet as the silence around them. If it weren’t for a harsh grip to the collar of Harry’s robes, he’d have thought Malfoy was going soft on him.
“Hi,” Harry parroted. “Fancy running into you here.”
Malfoy snorted, head shaking and grip weakening. “Do shut up, Potter, will you?”
“Why don’t you make me?”
The way Malfoy’s eyes flashed had him anticipating rough treatment and he wasn’t disappointed when his hair was once again pulled. Malfoy’s strength was an unexpected turn on—he wanted more.
“You always did like to push my buttons,” Malfoy murmured, free hand coming to cover his stomach.
Harry’s breath caught when he felt magic dance along his body, the apex of it coming from Malfoy’s hand. As the hand slowly moved upward, a warmth settled around them and all the tension left his body.
“Already so pliant for me,” Malfoy said, fingers rubbing soothing circles as they continued up his chest. “I wonder how long that will last, how long you will last.”
“Depends.” Harry tried to look down but Malfoy tightened the grip on his hair and his eyes closed. It felt good.
“On?” It was whispered so close to his ear that he could feel the warm breath.
He knew it was a bad idea, but baiting Malfoy was instilled in his body. Harry wasn’t able to keep himself from saying, “Your skill level.”
Malfoy stepped away, eyes narrowed and the warmth went with him. Harry held out a hand, wanting Malfoy to come back.
“Why must you always test me?”
Harry shrugged one shoulder. “It’s fun.”
“A shame,” Malfoy said, mock concern bleeding into his tone and on his face. “The things I’d give you if you were good for me.”
Harry took a step forward and watched as Malfoy took one back. It was a game of sorts, one he didn’t think he’d win but he’d put up one hell of a fight trying.
“Oh?”
“The things I’d do to you.”
He couldn’t help but lick his lips when his imagination supplied more fantasies. Fuck. That, he wanted.
“And if I’m not?” Harry continued to walk until Malfoy was the one cornered against a file cabinet. “Good, that is?”
Malfoy said nothing as Harry placed a hand on either side of his head. Their noses were touching, lips so close together.
“Then you won’t get what you want,” Malfoy said, head tilting upward until the words were whispered against his lips.
“What is it I want?” Harry was tempted to properly kiss Malfoy, wanted to know what it would feel like. Wanted to bite the very lips that teased his wet dreams.
“Me.”
Silence settled around them as they stared at each other. He couldn’t look away from Malfoy’s eyes. Up close, they were far more piercing than he expected.
“Don’t deny it,” Malfoy continued, a hand moving forward to touch, only for Harry to grip both of his wrists and pin them above his head.
When Malfoy arched, head tilted back and mouth parted with breathy pants, Harry reconsidered his position in the game—winning was on the horizon.
“You like that?” Harry nosed along Malfoy’s neck, breathing in the scent that had tortured him for weeks. “You like being restricted?”
A noise left Malfoy, not quite a moan or groan, but a jumbled mess of the two. It was a sound he wanted to hear again, and again and again.
“Potter,” Malfoy whispered. “Harry.”
Harry’s knees buckled enough that Malfoy’s wrists were freed. He expected their positions to be reversed, but was surprised when Malfoy’s hands wrapped around his neck. There was no warning as legs followed suit, wrapping around his hips.
“You can’t keep saying my name,” Harry said as he carried Malfoy through the damn maze of file cabinets until they reached the counter. “I told you, the combination is too much.”
Malfoy arched a brow, smirk on his face, and Harry already knew what he’d say.
“Harry.”
His eyes closed as his cock twitched and he had to place a hand down to brace himself. Hearing his name from Malfoy of all people was too much.
When he opened his eyes Harry almost closed them again at the sight of Malfoy’s robes vanishing, leaving him naked. The urge to touch was too strong to ignore.
“You’re beautiful,” Harry mumbled as his fingers trailed along Malfoy’s chest, leaving visible goosebumps behind on raised scars. “Way too fit for your own good.”
Malfoy scooted back on the counter enough to lay down, legs spread and knees bent, showing off his cock and balls. His very hard cock.
“I know.”
Vanishing clothes wasn’t Harry’s thing, whenever he re-summoned them it never felt the same. So he manually undressed.
“You’re taking too long.”
Harry ignored him as he took off his belt and lowered his trousers and pants. “How do you want me?”
“Mm,” Malfoy’s eyes were travelling up Harry’s body. “Which one of your fantasies do you want to come to life the most?”
That was a hard question. There were so many that he wanted. Would there be another time? Or was this it?
“I think,” Harry hummed as he tilted his head and squinted at Malfoy. “I think I want to fuck you.”
Malfoy made that noise again before spreading his legs wider.
“But I also want a dildo inside me.”
“Fucking hell.”
There definitely were no dildos in the Department of Records, but there were things he could transfigure into one.
“There are no lubricant potions here,” Malfoy said as he pinched his nippled. “What have you been using?”
It wasn’t a surprise that Malfoy knew how to brew one. There was a reason Harry stuck to Muggle lube. No way was he putting anything on or near him that came from his shitty potion skills.
“A candle oil spell.”
The look of disgust he got in return had him rolling his eyes. “It’s not the best but it works.”
“That’s gross.”
“You can always do Cleaning Charms after.”
“Oh I intend to,” Malfoy sneered. “I can’t believe I’m letting your cock anywhere near me.”
“Merlin, you’re so dramatic.”
“And you aren’t?” Malfoy countered as Harry transfigured a quill into a dildo.
He didn’t bother replying, it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“You are going to fuck yourself with that,” Malfoy said as his own hands trailed down his body. “And I’m going to finger myself while I watch.”
“You want me to put on a show for you?”
“I think we’d be putting on a show for each other.” There was a lazy smirk on Malfoy’s face as slick fingers wrapped around his cock. “Now turn around.”
Harry hated being told what to do but the prospect of Malfoy fingering himself was too good to pass up. With an annoyed huff, he turned around, only to groan when he caught sight of a mirror floating in front of him. Malfoy must have summoned it.
The dildo that had been liberally coated dripped oil on the ground as he stared at their reflections. He almost wished there was a mirror behind Malfoy so Harry could see what he looked like with a dildo inside him. But seeing Malfoy two fingers deep was just as good.
With a free hand, Harry traced his rim with slicked fingers. It hadn’t been that long since he had been in the same position, dildo in his arse and bent over. Masturbating had become a daily occurrence.
While he took his time, Malfoy clearly hadn’t if the squelching and groans were anything to go by. He glanced up, moaning at the sight of Malfoy fucking himself fast. Fuck.
“If you don’t hurry, I’ll finish myself off and leave you hard and wanting.”
That, Harry had no doubt.
“You look good like this,” Malfoy whispered, eyes on Harry’s arse. “Makes me want to fuck you.”
“Another time.” Harry pushed two fingers past his rim, eyes closing and mouth parting. He almost wished Malfoy was going to fuck him, but Harry really wanted the dildo.
“Move your fingers slowly.”
“I thought you wanted me to hurry up.”
Malfoy’s free hand was stroking his cock, face slack with want. The desire made Harry shiver, heightening his arousal.
“I want you to do what I say.”
Harry was tempted to tell Malfoy to make him, but his mind whispered Malfoy’s earlier words. ‘em>T
He wanted that, wanted what Malfoy would give him. So he moved his fingers at an achingly slow pace.
“Is it frustrating?” Malfoy asked, hand moving quicker on his cock. “Do you want more?”
“Yes.” His eyes closed at the light pants that he could hear. Everything Malfoy did was a turn on and he wasn’t sure patience was something he could offer.
“Prove it.”
Malfoy was evil, there was no other explanation.
“Please,” Harry said through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw as he tried to keep the pace slow.
“I’m not sure I’m feeling it.”
Harry clenched his eyes closed. Malfoy was going to get hexed as soon as they were done, the bloody prat.
“Please?” It came out breathy and light, something he hoped would appeal to Malfoy’s sadism.
“Fuck,” Malfoy swore, hand gripping the base of his cock. “Go faster.”
Finally. There was no stopping the whimpers now that he got what he wanted. The pace wasn’t as fast as Malfoy’s had been but it was rougher.
“Now the dildo.”
That was an order he could get behind. Harry rushed to insert it, not willing to risk Malfoy changing his mind.
Just the tip was in and it was already too much. His cock pulsed the deeper the dildo went. Masturbating alone was pleasurable but it was nothing compared to mutual masturbation. Part of him wanted to just do that, see how long they could last. When his eyes watched Malfoy’s fingers still moving, the squelching still prominent, he knew that he had to fuck him.
“How’s it feel?”
“Good,” Harry said, breathing coming out as fast as the dildo. A cramp began to form, so he charmed it to move on it’s own. The relief was almost as satisfying as the answering groan from Malfoy.
“Come here.”
Walking was a challenge, each step pushed the dildo further. A few steps away from the counter, the dildo brushed against his prostate and his knees almost gave out.
“Want to know what I was thinking when I was watching you?” Malfoy asked, pulling a hand off his cock to trail his fingers down Harry’s chest.
“Tell me.”
“I was thinking of a double ended dildo.”
Harry bit his lip subconsciously at the thought. Would Malfoy want a thick one? Maybe long was the way to go? Would either of them break half-way through and fuck the other one? It could be a challenge of sorts.
“We can do that, another time.”
There was something in Malfoy’s eyes that Harry wasn’t sure how to decipher. “How many times are you hoping for?”
“As many as you’re willing to give.”
Malfoy looked away, the fingers that had been on him tightened around his arm. “We’ll see.”
Not very promising, but that was alright. Harry really would take whatever Malfoy was willing to give—even if it was a one time thing.
When the grip on his arm went lax, Harry took that as a sign to continue, pulling on Malfoy’s legs until his arse was at the edge of the counter.
“I want what I said earlier,” Harry began as he spread Malfoy’s legs wider, leaning his head down to let his breath ghost across erect flesh. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”
Malfoy groaned as his head smacked on the counter with a thud. “Not for long.”
“Hm?” Harry pressed his lips against a pale leg before trailing open-mouthed kisses up. There was a brief exhale when he reached Malfoy’s knee and Harry smiled at the thought of him being ticklish.
“I can’t fuck your mouth for long unless that’s how you want me to come.”
“Can’t come for me more than once?” Harry teased, tongue coming out to play.
“I’m not 19 anymore, Potter. My refractory period is shit.”
That’s okay, Harry didn’t think he’d have the energy to do much more afterward either. Malfoy’s scent was too heady, took too much out of him to concentrate.
“Then let’s make the most of it.”
Before Malfoy could reply, Harry nuzzled the inside of his thigh before biting softly. Small gasps were the reward, and Harry wanted more, needed to hear the pleasure.
“I’m not used to this.”
“Hm?” Harry hummed as his tongue swiped along heavy balls. Up close, to Malfoy’s crotch, the scent was stronger, more stimulating, enough that all his mind could focus on was Malfoy.
Just Malfoy.
“Being so desired.”
Harry’s head lifted up with a frown. His lips twitched when one of Malfoy’s hands tried to pull him back down.
“Anyone you are with should desire you.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “They do, to an extent. But the way you look at me, the way you move, the way you act is far more than desire. It’s something potent.”
“You are just as potent to me,” Harry said seriously. It wasn’t just Malfoy’s scent that was potent, it was everything about him. It made Harry want more—a selfish greediness that wasn’t so easy to tame.
“Touch me,” Malfoy demanded, eyes falling closed and hand forcing Harry’s head down, fingers threading through his hair before gripping harshly. “Show me how potent I am.”
Harry’s hand replaced where his tongue had been, softly fondling Malfoy’s balls. Reading Malfoy’s facial expressions had always been a long shot, but the more he watched, the easier it was to see Malfoy’s forehead twitch—almost wrinkle—when something felt good.
The pace of the dildo inside of Harry doubled in speed and he moaned, knee jerking in surprise. He glared up into Malfoy’s bright eyes and too smug smirk. When an eyebrow arched, the message was clear. Hurry up.
Harry had wanted to spend more time exploring Malfoy’s body, wanted to discover what else would make his forehead wrinkle, wanted to hear more quiet sighs but he gave in. The weight of Malfoy’s cock in his hand was an experience he had missed; it had been far too long since he had been with a guy.
When his tongue teased the head of Malfoy’s cock, he revelled in the parted lips, closed eyes and tightening grip on his hair. Part of him wanted to keep teasing, see how far he could push, but he really wanted to suck Malfoy’s cock.
His eyes closed when precome touched pursed lips. As much as he wanted to lick it off, he looked up at Malfoy before biting his lip.
“Fucking tease.”
Only when Malfoy’s impatience grew stronger and he pulled on his hair again did Harry wrap his lips around the tip of Malfoy’s cock and suck hard. While he might like sucking dick, he didn’t like the taste. The reactions were what made it exciting.
A glance up showed Malfoy’s free hand clenching and unclenching on his chest before settling flat. His eyes were glued to Harry’s face and his tongue poked through his lips.
That was what he liked. That was what he wanted.
Harry pinched Malfoy’s thigh hoping that he’d understand what wasn’t said.
“Ow, you fucking—” He cut off when Harry pinched him again. When his eyes narrowed, Harry knew he’d not go easy.
Malfoy sat up, both hands grabbing Harry’s head. There was no warning before he thrusted up, leaving Harry’s mouth stuffed with cock, and spit already pooling at the corners of his lips. The pace wasn’t as hard as it would have been if their positions were switched, but it was rough enough to keep Harry’s mind hazy with want.
“I like using you.”
Harry moaned, loving the way it brought curses and a snapping of hips. There was no denying how much Malfoy was enjoying himself and Harry let that fuel his own desires. He relaxed his jaw when Malfoy rubbed a thumb along his cheek. The dildo inside him had slowed down to a slow pace, one that was easy to ignore.
“Fuck, Harry.”
That wasn’t fair. Harry’s fists clenched on the counter as he tried not to go tense. It was a weakness, one he wasn’t sure counted as a kink. All he knew was that he wanted more. Wanted to hear it again, so he pinched Malfoy’s thigh one more time.
“I’m already fucking your mouth,” Malfoy panted, voice becoming more strained as time passed. “What more do you want?”
Harry gestured between them before leaving a finger on himself. That was the best he could do. There was a calculating look in silver eyes and that also wasn’t fair. How was it that everything Malfoy did became a turn on?
“Harry.” It was the breathiness that made it more intense. Harry’s eyes closed tightly and the groan he released was long and loud despite being muffled.
Malfoy’s hips stopped moving, something he didn’t like. When he glared, hands roughly pushed his head down further, until he was deep throating Malfoy’s cock, nose pressed against fine curls.
No movement.
Malfoy’s pants were the only thing that broke the silence and he let each exhale relax him further. The intensity of Malfoy’s scent was so much stronger and it was hard to think let alone try and move his head to continue.
“I always knew your mouth had to be good for something.”
There was such a pretentious smugness in his tone, so Harry did the only thing he could think of and swallowed around his cock.
“Oh fuck.” Malfoy lifted his head quickly. “I almost came.”
“Your stamina is shit.” His throat didn’t hurt yet but he knew it would soon, face-fucking always did with him.
All he got back was a glare before the dildo sped up. The heel of his palms slammed against the counter, and the curses he would use on Malfoy later doubled in severity.
“Are you going to fuck me? Or am I going to get myself off?” Malfoy laid back down, legs spread enough that Harry could watch a finger enter him, slowly and far too theatrically.
Harry reapplied the oil, the low heat nice on his skin. He had to wave his hand, using magic to lower the counter enough so that he didn’t have to be on his tiptoes.
Malfoy’s finger was still inside of himself and it was tempting, very tempting. Harry placed a hand on Malfoy’s thigh, keeping his legs spread. The other leg had been placed on Harry’s shoulder before he turned his head enough to kiss Malfoy’s leg.
Malfoy’s eyes didn’t exactly soften, but they did something and Harry wondered how desired Malfoy felt. He hoped it came across clearly because that was all he wanted to do—desire Malfoy.
Teasing would have been his go to, but his cock ached too much to keep teasing. He pulled Malfoy closer to the edge of the counter before guiding his cock right where he wanted it. More kisses were placed on pale skin as the head of his cock pressed against Malfoy’s hole.
The kisses turned to open-mouthed ones, and it was only when Malfoy’s body relaxed that he pushed his cock in deeper, the resistance minimal.
“Oh.”
The tightness was nothing on the pleasure he could see on Malfoy’s face. When he bottomed out, Harry had to focus on something else because Malfoy’s scent was so overpowering. His eyes fell on a flushed cock, shiny at the tip and twitching the longer he stared.
“If you’re teasing me,” Malfoy began, frown in place as he extended a hand. “Then I’m—”
Harry pulled halfway out before slowly pushing back in and settled into a rocking and grinding motion. “What was that?”
“Oh fuck,” Malfoy gasped, his hand falling with a thud against the counter, fingers curled upward. Harry moved his own hand from Malfoy’s hip and let his fingers curl on top of them. It wasn’t a strong grip but he liked feeling connected.
Harry slowly worked the pace into something faster. Part of him wanted to keep the tempo leisurely but the dildo inside of him was moving too quickly, the differences between them throwing him off.
“So deep,” Malfoy said, voice so quiet that Harry was grateful for the silence in the room. “Like it.”
“Yeah?” On the next thrust Harry’s hips went slow but hard, making sure to give him what he wanted. The low groan and tightening grip on Harry’s hands was the incentive to keep going. “How much?”
When the dildo started to vibrate Harry cried out, gripping Malfoy’s leg tightly. There was a smugness to Malfoy’s face when he looked up, panting and hips snapping forward.
“About as much as you liked that.”
Harry angled a tad bit differently but it was enough to have Malfoy’s back arching and legs shaking. His cock twitched at the deep throaty groan Malfoy let out.
“Is this what you wanted?” Malfoy asked as he moved his free hand up to pinch his nipples. “Is this what you fantasised about?”
With every other word, Malfoy clenched around him and all coherency vanished. He couldn’t reply, not when the dildo increased speed again, not with the way his name was whispered, not with the way Malfoy continued to moan.
“Is this how you wanted me?”
Grunts was all he could do as his eyes watched his cock go in and out of Malfoy. The squelch of each thrust should have been gross but he loved it, loved it just as much as the sound his hips made as they slammed forward.
“Harry.”
“Fuck.” That only made him go faster, deeper. Malfoy wasn’t allowed to do that and not expect a reaction.
“More,” Malfoy demanded before wrapping a hand around his cock. “Give me more, give me everything.”
What that entailed, Harry had no clue, but he fucked Malfoy harder and hoped that was enough.
“Yes.” The panting was just as good as the moans and he wanted to see how many other sounds he could get out of him. “There, more, I need it.”
Demanding bugger, wasn’t he? Harry tried to go faster but his hips stuttered and a telltale heat began to build and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.
“I’m going to—”
Malfoy half sat up, letting Harry continue to pound into him. “When you come, I want my name on your mouth, I want it ringing in your ears.”
When the dildo moved and hit his prostate Harry threw his head back, cock shoving deep as he came, doing as Malfoy asked.
“Draco!”
There was a full body shiver from Malfoy and it made his softening cock throb a little. As soon as he pulled out, Malfoy jumped down and pushed Harry’s chest against the counter until he was bent over.
“What the—”
The dildo was pulled out of him, falling to the floor the vibration still going.
“My turn.”
All the fantasies wondering what Malfoy’s fingers would feel like inside of him came to fruition. It was a quick prodding, enough to long for more.
Fingers were replaced with Malfoy’s cock and Harry widened his stance, breath leaving him when he was slowly entered.
“Better than I imagined.”
When Harry’s head tilted the best it could to peer at him curiously, Malfoy let out a little huff as he bottomed out.
“You didn’t think you were the only one who had fantasies, did you?”
“Fuck,” Harry swore when Malfoy set a brutal pace. Knowing that he hadn’t been the only one made him wish he could get hard again so soon.
“What—” His breath caught at a particularly hard thrust. “What about?”
Malfoy leaned over, lips mouthing over the back of Harry’s neck. “Some things aren’t meant to be shared.
Well, that wasn’t fair. He opened his mouth to tell him just that but Malfoy’s fingers gripped him tighter and breathy moans tickled his ear.
“You feel so good.”
Harry groaned with Malfoy when the pace slowed down but the thrusts became harsh. A hand gripped his shoulder and it brought more of Malfoy’s scent forward.
“You smell so good,” Harry countered, lips stretching when he got a huff in return.
“I want you to smell like me.”
Harry could get behind that. “Do it. Mark me then.”
When Malfoy pulled out, he almost wanted to ask him to finish inside of him. But the wet sound of Malfoy jerking off was too hot.
“Come on me.”
The sounds grew louder and so did Malfoy—moans echoing around them. When the first spurt of come landed on his arse, Harry’s eyes closed as he bit his lip. Malfoy didn’t moan his name like Harry had, no, he whispered it and the breathy want in it made him shiver.
Fingers swirled in the come on his arse before rubbing it into his skin as Malfoy slid out. Mmm.
Harry grunted when Malfoy leaned over putting his full weight on him. “Get off me.”
“No.” Malfoy’s nose rubbed along the back of his neck. “You’re too comfortable.”
“Maybe you are,” Harry complained, trying to jerk Malfoy off of him.
“At the risk of sounding like a Gryffindor, I think it’s safe to say that’s the hottest sex I’ve had in a long time.”
“Sentimental,” Harry corrected as he ducked down, grinning when Malfoy rushed to brace himself on the counter. “That’s a sentimental thing to say.”
“They’re synonyms, Potter.”
“Harry.”
Arched brows were his only reply, and Harry was pretty sure he was learning to decode the different meanings.
“Call me Harry.”
“Are you going to cream in your pants every time I do?”
“I haven’t been—” He glared at the smirk on Malfoy’s face as he put back on his clothes.
When Malfoy was buttoning the last of his buttons, Harry asked, eyes down and foot moving restlessly, “And can I call you Draco?”
Malfoy paused, one button left, to turn to him. “After all that, you can call me whatever the fuck you want to.”
“Good,” Harry mumbled. It came out a touch shy and he wasn’t sure why that was.
A harsh grip to his shirt had him glaring, but before he could say anything, Draco pulled him forward.
Draco’s head moved closer, lips barely brushing together. “I want to hear you say it,” he whispered, the movement making their lips touch more firmly.
“Draco,” Harry whispered before he wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck and kissed him. Sex before kissing wasn’t his norm, but they never had been normal, so why bother changing that?
He continued to say Draco’s name between kisses. After his tongue swiped a bottom lip. “Draco.” Over and over it was mumbled, and each time there was a slight smile pressed against his lips.
“You think this will help any?” Draco asked as he kissed the tip of Harry’s nose. “Think my scent will be easier to be around?”
“Fuck no.” Harry tried to dodge the slap to his arm but he was too slow. “Now all I’ll think about is this, no way I don’t get hard.”
There was a wicked gleam in Draco’s eyes and Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was about.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to keep doing it.”
On second thought, Draco was a genius.
“Might be a long time,” Harry warned. “I don’t know if it will ever stop affecting me.”
“That’s okay,” Draco said before leaning against the counter. “I half-tolerate you, I think I’ll be fine.”
It was Draco’s turn to dodge, only Harry used actual hexes. As Draco ran through the maze of file cabinets, laughter echoing around them, he decided that perhaps Ron was right—for once.
Perhaps silver linings weren’t so bad after all.
—fin—
Epilogue
“Oh, faster,” Draco groaned, hands on Harry’s arse as he rode Draco. “You’ve had me on edge all morning.”
Harry huffed as his head tilted back and a hoarse groan left him as Draco’s cock brushed against his prostate. He had already come, and the oversensitivity was a bitch, but he liked it anyway. Liked the feeling of Draco inside him more.
“I didn’t even do anything.”
“You wore those trousers.”
Harry rotated his hips before peering at Draco with a wide innocence that always worked on Mrs Weasley. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve never been innocent,” Draco said as he thrusted up, hands fondling Harry’s arse. “Not in Hogwarts when breaking every school rule and certainly not now.”
“Maybe,” Harry whispered, mouth latching onto Draco’s neck. “Maybe I want you to corrupt me.”
“Fuck.”
“Use me,” Harry said before sucking a mark right above his collarbone. “Use my body.”
“Harry.” It was a warning just as much as it was an encouragement.
“Fill me like you did last night.”
They both groaned at that. What was supposed to have been Draco Flooing before they were to meet Ron and Hermione for drinks ended up with Harry getting bent over the kitchen table. They ended up being two hours late.
When hands moved to Harry’s waist, he stilled, letting Draco set a brutal pace. He had to grip Draco’s shoulders when each slam grew rougher than the last.
“That’s it,” Harry encouraged when Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes. “You fuck me so good.”
Harry kissed Draco, wanting to hear the muffled moans against his lips.
“I’m—” Draco was cut off when Harry kissed him again. He clenched around the thick cock inside him, revelling in the stuttered hips and breathless gasp of his name.
Harry continued to kiss Draco through his release, loving how pliant he got. Post-sex was the only time he was ever pliant.
Which is why it was the perfect time to get whatever he wanted.
“Be my plus one tonight.”
Draco’s forehead wrinkled and Harry wanted to kiss it the wrinkles away, so he did.
“For what?”
“It’s a party of Luna’s.”
“Lovegood knows how to throw a party?” The bemused tone wouldn’t last long, so Harry rushed to clean them off.
“Sure.”
“Alright,” Draco’s forehead wrinkled again as he summoned his clothes. “I get off early tonight anyway.”
“I know.” If Harry had to suffer then Draco sure as hell was going to suffer with him.
Harry straightened Draco’s tie before pecking his lips. “I gotta get back, I was supposed to bring Jackson some records an hour ago.”
“Which ones?”
“Fuck if I know.” He hadn’t listened at all, not when Jackson’s scent muddied into a gross combination of several perfumes and some kind of aftershave—Harry had been more preoccupied trying not to vomit.
“Hold on,” Draco said when Harry moved to step back.
“I can’t,” Harry said, eyes on Draco’s lips, wanting to kiss him again. So he did. “Last time you said that, I missed half of my work day.”
The smirk against his lips was not appreciated. Ashwood had written him up. It had been worth it though, oh so very worth it.
“No.” Draco shook his head before summoning a deep green scarf. “Not that. I—”
“It’s at least 38°C outside, why do you have that?”
“While sex at work is hot, one of us is going to get fired at this rate,” Draco drawled. “So I—”
“I fail to see how a scarf is going to help any.”
“I fail to understand why you keep interrupting me.”
Harry sneered at him, gesturing for Draco to continue before folding his arms across his chest.
“I slept with this on last night,” Draco said as he slowly wrapped it around Harry’s neck. “It smells like me.”
That, Harry could tell. It was strong, almost as strong as having Draco next to him.
“After we have sex, you’re able to be around me the rest of the day.”
“Yeah? And?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s not a wonder you weren’t placed in Ravenclaw.”
“Oi!”
“I figure the scarf can be something you use after we have sex. It can be the focus your Healer wanted. Someone stinks, place it over your nose and smell me.”
He was honestly touched. Harry gently pulled on the strings of the scarf, loving the softness.
“But if I have the scarf before I see you, I’ll still get hard.”
“Then fuck me before work.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. Harry wrapped the scarf a little tighter before pecking Draco one last time. “Thank you.”
Draco didn’t say anything, but he didn’t expect one. The prat didn’t know how to handle gratitude with grace.
“I’ll see you after work, we can Floo to Luna’s together.”
Harry jogged away, not even saying goodbye, he didn’t want to be there when Draco—
“Wait!”
Harry groaned, one hand on the door. Close. He had been so close.
“Tonight isn’t that stupid hunt Lovegood has been passing out flyers for, is it?”
When Harry didn’t say anything Draco sent a Stinging Hex that landed next to his head.
“I thought you said it was a party!”
“It is a party,” Harry hedged, not wanting to turn around. “It’s a search party for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”
“Screw Gryffindor, you’re a fucking Slytherin,” Draco snarled. Harry decided to take that as a compliment. At least he did until the next Stinging Hex didn’t miss, and Harry walked all the way back to his department rubbing his arse grumbling about ungrateful pricks.
Harry was still grumbling when he opened the department door and stilled. Everyone in the office including Ashwood were sitting in chairs lined up in a semicircle.
“What’s going on?” Ron was standing in the middle with a grimace. “Why does this look like an intervention?”
“Harry while we all love you,” Ron said as Ashwood snorted and several people looked at Ron incredulously. “You’re driving us mental.”
Harry crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Then it’s mutual.” They were driving him mental with their nasty arse smells.
“Foxglove is leaving next week.”
“The Auror trainer? I thought Richardson was going to take over.”
“Richardson has… graciously decided to remain an Auror.”
Harry looked to Richardson who wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Bribed,” Jackson yelled. “We bribed him to stay, it wasn’t—ow!” Jackson rubbed the back of his head, glaring at Ron.
“I’m offering you the job, Potter,” Ashwood barked. Her tone booked no argument, but he had never been one for social etiquette.
“Me? I don’t have the required experience.” The Ministry wanted at least 15 years experience in the field to teach trainees.
“Let me worry about that,” Ashwood glared. “Your office is on the next floor up and I don’t have to look at you anymore. It’s a win-win all around.”
Harry harrumphed as he looked around the room. He had been an Auror for so long, thinking about leaving had always been something to fantasise on bad days, but it was never something that seemed tangible.
“Think about it, Harry,” Ron said, hands stretching out wide. “You won’t have to smell us.”
Thank fuck for that. “I’ll still have to smell the trainees.”
“That’s a problem for them,” Ashwood yelled over her shoulder as she walked a snail’s pace back to her office. “Clear out your broom closet. Foxglove starts training you come Monday.”
And that was that. As soon as her door shut, everyone dispersed, going back to their desks.
“Clear out my broom closet,” Harry repeated with a snort. The damn thing only had a desk in it. There was nothing to clear out.
“You can leave early,” Ron said as he clapped Harry on the back. “I can move your desk back.”
Against his better judgment, Harry pulled Ron into a hug. “Thank you.” Ashwood wouldn’t have suggested the switch in a million years, that was all Ron, it had to be.
“You weren’t happy,” Ron whispered, the hug tightening. It was kind of nice, he missed being able to hug his friends without smelling their stench for the rest of the day. “Besides, I would have either killed you or myself if I had to listen to another one of your scent rants.”
Nevermind. Hugs were overrated.
Harry shoved Ron away, ignoring the laughter he got in return. He took one last look around the office remembering all the years of hard work and sleepless nights. Would he miss it?
“Alright, who is disinfecting the broom closet?” Jackson said as Harry opened the door. “It sure as hell won’t be me.”
Yeah, no, he wasn’t going to miss it.
As he walked down the hall towards his favourite place in the Ministry, he wrapped the scarf around his nose and breathed in the comforting smell of Draco. He still wasn’t sure what they were, but they were something, and that was what mattered.
When he walked back into the Department of Records, he rang the bell way too many times, knowing it would lead to another Stinging Hex.
“Potter, what the fuck are you doing?” Draco yelled as he rounded the corner.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“No one else would risk my wrath.”
“I don’t know why. You're hot when you’re angry.”
Draco’s lips twitched as he leaned over the counter, face close to Harry’s. “Why back so soon?”
“Ashwood is giving me the Auror Trainer position.”
“Oh?” The slow smirk on Draco’s face was his favourite kind of smirk, that one always led to good things. “I think that calls for celebratory sex.”
As Draco yanked on his robes, pulling him over the counter, Harry knew that he wouldn’t change a single thing that got him here.
Even his sense of smell.