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“There!” Ron cheers, snapping the silver bracelet onto Draco’s wrist firmly, with purpose. It glows brightly once and then dims, morphing to lay snugly around the pale wrist. Draco blinks at it, dumbfounded.
Though their mission to find the lost relics was successful, the last thing Draco expected was to be wearing one! The treasure chest before them sits untouched, save for the single thing Ron saw fit to snatch.
“Now you can deal with him so I don’t have to! Finally!” Ron says, mighty pleased with himself. He collects his Muggle jacket from the couch of Draco’s office and wipes imaginary lint off his trousers.
Draco still has his arm comically held out, fearfully. “Weasley! Did you just put a relic on my arm? A relic, do you understand what the repercussions of this could mean for us–”
“Yes, it means he’s going to leave me alone now, in peace!” Ron shouts cheerfully over Draco’s lecture, striding across the room to head out the door, and Draco simply watches him leave, mouth open, cursing the day he allowed Granger to convince him her husband was not a crazy nutjob.
How was he to explain to his boss he was wearing a lost relic? They had no idea what it was capable of or what it was even meant to do and there it was, fitted snugly on his arm!
Draco grits his teeth and reaches into his desk for a Howler.
***
Harry waits until he hears the satisfying click from his choker before he releases the thick leather around his neck. It hangs there, tight against his throat, to prevent an unwanted bite from changing his life forever.
He supposes he should be grateful the war was over before he presented as an Omega; countless Healers had told him it was unusual for Omegas to present so late, but Harry Potter had always been a unique case, so why would this be any different?
He puts on a cloak and Muggle trainers, checks to make sure he’s got his knapsack and all his work, and then Apparates to the Ministry Apparition Point.
He hopes Ron and Draco haven’t killed each other in the past week, and feels only mildly bad that his heat had passed at such an inopportune time, right when they were hot on the trail of a collection of mysterious relics, but when nature calls, nature calls.
Harry sort of wishes he were an Alpha like Draco, or a Beta like Ron and Hermione. Life would be much easier without having to hole himself up in his house every other month for an unbearable heat spent without a partner.
But c’est la vie.
Harry steps out of the Atrium and heads to his office on the fifth floor, dodging people left and right, some who still simper at him and others who just stare, like they’ve never seen an Omega before. He rolls his eyes. He knows he’s a rarity in this day and age, but there are hardly any Alphas left either. Go stare at them.
The door to their office creaks open like it always does, same old same old, and Harry gratefully closes the door to the weird smells and pheromones in the hallway to focus on the calm woodsy scent of his office. Ron is grinning ear to ear to see him and Harry grins back, dropping his bag at the door like he is wont to do.
“Alright then, mate?” Ron asks, like he does after every heat. Harry shrugs. “Can’t complain. Still would kill for a mate though.” He comments, and Ron nods knowingly. He doesn’t envy Harry’s luck of the draw anymore; life is much better as a Beta.
“So, how did the case go?” Harry asks, settling onto his desk instead of in his seat. He and Ron are used to their disorganized chaos so it comes as no surprise that his fancy leather chair is covered in hoodies and socks, and scattered paperwork litters the floor. He obviously knows where everything is, as does Ron, so neither of them bother with cleaning their mess. It drives Hermione crazy.
“Brilliant!” Ron says, the smile on his face widening. “We found the old pirate lair, well, you know Malfoy found it, swotty prat and all, and there were loads of things in it. I think Hermione is ecstatically cataloging everything right now. It’ll take her days before they come pester us again.” He beams.
“That’s awesome!” Harry says, with false enthusiasm. Though he’s happy it was resolved without incident, he kind of hates missing another big case. That, and it implies Hermione and Draco won’t be dropping by any time soon. Harry pulls the cloak tighter around himself; the scent has mostly worn off, no trace by now, but Harry’s wishful thinking means it’s still faintly there. “Do we have a new case yet?” Harry asks, pulling his legs up onto his desk to sit cross-legged.
Ron shakes his head and they stare at each other blankly. It was the one downside of having a perfect case record. They almost always ran out of things to do to occupy their time. That, and not many treasure hunting leads came by the Ministry.
Harry opens his mouth and Ron’s eyes flash in warning. Harry smiles and blurts out his question anyway.
“So, has Malfoy mentioned if he’s found someone yet?”
“No! No, no, no! I told you before you left I’m not doing this anymore! Go talk to the prat yourself Harry! No!” Ron says emphatically. “Actually, with that being said, have you felt any different lately?”
Harry looks himself over, puzzled. “No, should I be? I feel like I always do after a heat: tired. And besides,” Harry says, switching back to his choice topic. “You say that all the time. He’s a pureblood. You said pureblood Alphas are supposed to mate with someone before they’re 25 and we’re all almost 25. Does he have someone yet? There’s not many Omegas he can choose from.”
Ron throws his face into his hands and drags them down his cheeks. “Harry. We are not talking about Malfoy’s dating status. I don’t bloody know what the git is up to nor do I care!”
A nondescript barn owl raps at their window when Harry opens his mouth to argue and he slides off the desk unbecomingly to welcome it in. He thinks it’s a new job assignment until he notices the tell-tale red envelope attached to its leg and watches the owl fly right over his head towards Ron, where it drops the red Howler clean on his desk.
Ron stares at it with big eyes.
The owl grabs a few treats from the owl stand near the window and takes off, large wings spread out against the bright morning horizon.
Harry closes the window with a loud thunk and wanders over to stare at Ron’s grimace. “What did you possibly do to piss him off?” He asks curiously. Ron looks away with a sigh and opens the Howler with a tap of his wand.
“I WILL BLOODY KILL YOU WEASLEY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? COME INTO MY OFFICE AND I WILL INCINERATE YOU. YOUR WIFE WON’T BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU. HARRY BLOODY POTTER WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU. YOU WILL TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU WERE THINKING, OR SO HELP ME CIRCE, I WILL EVISCERATE YOU.”
Harry stares at Ron’s sour expression with wide eyes. “I think you’ve royally pissed him off; what did you do?” Harry asks in awe.
“Nothing,” Ron says stubbornly. “Are you sure you don’t feel any different?” He repeats, and Harry just stares at him pointedly as the Howler blows up in a puff of red smoke and bits of ash and fire.
“I don’t suppose you want to accompany me to his office?” Ron asks, rubbing his temples. Harry perks up with a smile. “Sure!”
Any excuse to see Malfoy is a good one, even with a threat looming over Ron’s head. He’s a capable, well-seasoned adventurer, he can handle himself.
***
Draco slides his hand over his wrist for the nth time that day, hoping his notice-me-not does its job concealing the hidden relic on his wrist. He has half a mind to kill Weasley, but his work partner would hate that, and he thinks it’d be a shame to get a new partner on account of killing his old partner’s husband. No matter how stupid the bloody idiot is.
The hard metal on his wrist burns momentarily, despite having caused him no previous discomfort the day before, and Draco’s eyes widen imperceptibly as he shoves his hand under his desk and tries to shake the bangle off his wrist. It doesn’t budge.
Hermione is sitting on the floor sorting through the treasure chest, writing down their findings on a Muggle legal pad, while Draco is meant to pore through their history books on pirate lore, working at his desk. He’s actually done a fantastic job, if he says so himself, having correctly identified several artifacts, but there’s only one that interests him, and it’s stuck on his damned wrist. He wishes they had a manifest, but Wizarding pirate ships hardly ever had those.
I wonder if they’re hiring. I’d love to be on his staff.
Draco’s head shoots up and he looks around for the disembodied voice, hands clenching his desk in panic. “Granger, did you say something?” He asks, voice coming out a tad higher than he’d like. He forces himself to calm down when the burning stops abruptly.
Hermione sits up to look back at him when the door to their office opens and Ron saunters in with Harry hot on his heels, the Golden Duo making their way through the small space like it’s their territory. Draco’s eyes narrow at Ron when he makes it a point to stop near Hermione, offering her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then stands there, obviously using her as a shield.
Harry floats around nearby, staring curiously at all the relics and artifacts they’ve pulled from the treasure chest, and then moves a bit closer to Draco’s desk, hovering like he sometimes does.
He looks good for an Omega who just had a heat, not too pale or too flushed, and he smells sweet and fresh, though his scent is softened by his suppressants. Draco reigns in his Alpha pheromones so it doesn’t burden the Omega, but he knows Potter loves his scent, can’t help it, as Omegas are naturally drawn to Alphas.
Despite that, Draco does his best to respect Potter’s autonomy and choices, and balefully glares at Weasley.
“Got your Howler, Malfoy.” Weasley says bluntly, and the straightforward attitude catches Draco off-guard. He’d thought Weasley would want to keep it a secret, what he’d done, or else Draco would have shoved his arm in Granger’s face and demanded she explain her demented husband’s actions. That, coupled with the lecture Hermione would undoubtedly give them for messing with unknown relics would be quite an earful none of them wanted to have.
Draco narrows his eyes and stands up. Harry shuffles around him a little as he makes his way towards the center of the room and Draco lets him, used to Potter’s oddities since he’d presented as an Omega.
“Then Weasley,” Draco says, voice silky smooth, “Can you explain–”
Why can’t he just stay when my heat hits? I can pretend it’s accidental, and just let him take me against the nearest object. Heats with just toys aren’t fun, anyhow. Godric, he smells delicious. Borrowing his cloak just isn’t enough.
“–what?” Draco draws back in shock and turns to stare at Potter, clearly the voice in his head, but Potter just stares back at him blankly, his mouth closed.
“Draco, are you okay? You sent Ron a Howler? Again?” Hermione asks, unimpressed. She rubs her hands over her bruised kneecaps and sits back on them again, reaching over the treasure chest to pull out a tiara.
“Potter.” Draco says in a strangled voice. Harry tilts his head in puzzled acknowledgement.
“No, I’m Weasley.” Ron says, annoying him with a snigger. “And I’m sorry I snagged this. I was just curious, you know, about that curse in that Muggle film. Pirates of the–whatever it was. Red Sea?” Ron pulls a gold coin from his pocket and tosses it at Draco, who catches it midair. He frowns at the sneaky redhead, unaware that Weasley pilfered a coin from the chest. Hermione looks up quickly to catch the exchange.
“Davy Jones’s Locker, I think,” Draco says. He doesn’t quite remember the name of the Muggle film, but he recalls being dragged to watch it with the Golden Trio, ages ago when they first started this ridiculous job together. Team building and all that tripe, Granger called it.
He turns the coin over in his hand and feels the ridged edge; the bas-relief staring at him is nothing he recognizes. He offers it to Hermione, who snatches it quickly and looks at it from every angle. If they can identify it, they can pinpoint a range of years the chest could be from.
“It’s Pirates of the Caribbean,” Harry offers with a small smile, off to the side poking things on Draco’s desk. Draco doesn’t miss the way Potter runs his hand along Draco’s new cloak, resting on his chair. The amount of clothes he’s lost to The Boy Wonder is no small number. In fact, if he squints, is that his missing cloak Potter’s wearing?
“Ron! You know you can’t be touching artifacts without permission. And you took it! What happened if it was cursed, what then? Were you planning on just walking around with a cursed coin for days until something bad happened to you?”
Draco sighs, tuning out the lecture and nearly jumps out of his skin when the voice makes another remark in his head.
Can’t he be my mate? I mean, he’s quite a considerate Alpha. I’m a good looking bloke. He’d love me on my knees, I'm sure. My arse is tight and fit. If he doesn’t have a mate, why can’t it be me?
Draco jerks and looks Potter up and down, taking in his innocent bespectacled staring. Draco runs his hand down his wrist and wonders if the relic is the reason he can suddenly hear Potter’s thoughts. If that’s what this was. Or was it a figment of his imagination, his brain making up things he wanted to hear because the person he desired was standing in the same room as him?
Draco wonders if this is a prank the Golden Duo were playing on him, some form of torture to get back at him for sending them Howlers every chance he got? It’s not his fault he had to call them out for doing stupid things. Weasley didn’t use his brain half the time and it drove Draco mad.
Still, the train of thought interrupting Draco’s was admittedly pleasing to hear. If it was Potter, was Potter really that attracted to him? The idea is quite flattering.
Draco debates sending out more pheromones to test his theory, but decides against it. Potter was freshly off his heat and he didn’t want to harm the emerald-eyed Omega by subjecting him to his hormones. It was a sly thing to do, and didn’t mean much when all Omegas reacted to an Alpha’s pheromones. In fact, it must be hard enough for him to stand in the same room with Draco as it was.
“This is going to take days to sort through, Ron! The last thing we need is for you to steal something and make it take longer!” Hermione says, brandishing her arm across the floor at the little heaps of artifacts.
“Yes, ‘Mione. I’m sorry,” Ron mumbles, looking put out. He glances up at Draco and Draco could swear the git smiles at him. The bracelet feels heavy against his wrist.
“Hey Ron, don’t we have the manifest for the ship though? I swear it was sitting in the file before I left. It was our lead, after all.” Harry says, sending a second cursory glance over all the artifacts Hermione has laid out on the floor. Draco looks at him in surprise. “The manifest? You have it?!” He asks eagerly, sweeping over to Harry imperiously. He pushes the history books to the side of his desk, his notes and inkwell too, as if Harry will magically produce the manifest for him to spread across his Cherrywood desk.
Hermione gets to her feet excitedly.
Harry backs up a few feet, looking startled. His hand automatically goes towards his neck, feeling to make sure the black leather band is still securely in place and Draco stops, instantly. “Oh, sorry Potter. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Draco apologizes, looking contrite as he stops his animated spree. Ron and Hermione watch them quietly, neither of them ever having to worry about biting or being bitten, of losing control or being worried for their own safety.
“No, it’s–it’s fine. Sorry, just a bit–overreacting, you know, with the heat just happening and all.” Harry lets his hands fall gracelessly, shrugging helplessly. It was a knee-jerk reaction. “I remember seeing the manifest though, uh, Ron? What did you do with it?”
Draco turns his attention to Weasley, eyes narrowed. If Weasley had the manifest this whole time, then the blasted bastard knew what he’d stolen, what he jammed onto Draco’s wrist. He had to! The last thing any of them would do was play with unknown artifacts, relics of civilizations long past!
“You had the manifest this whole time, and you didn’t say anything? Ronald Weasley!” Hermione huffs irritably, scandalized. She knows just as well as the others that Ron doesn’t like to read through his paperwork, but a file like that! A manifest might not help them identify all the artifacts in the treasure chest, but it could help them identify the ship, the cargo, the purpose of the voyage, pinpoint why pirates would loot the ship.
Ron frowns and rubs his own hair, messing it up. “I left it in our room, I think. Our office, I mean. I’ll go get it.” Ron says, nodding apologetically to everyone. He ambles out the door, avoiding looking Draco in the eye.
“Hey ‘Mione, do you think you should–”
“Oh yes, you’re quite right. He might not even really know what it looks like. I’m so glad you remembered it, Harry!” With a flourish, Hermione leaves the room to accompany her husband.
Draco hovers near his desk, mindful not to encroach upon Potter’s personal space, his reaction earlier a sharp slap in the face to any Alpha. Draco always does his best to respect Potter’s wishes, and even with the voice in his head, he’s not about to commit a faux pas.
“Do you want to follow them, Potter? I can’t imagine you’re comfortable in here. If my pheromones are too much–”
Harry shakes his head, resolute. “I’m good.” He says, but he won't look Draco in the eye.
Draco nods and goes back to organizing the items on his desk, putting his inkwell back where it belongs when he notices Potter tugging on his messy black fringe. Draco raises a brow at him.
“Yes, Potter?”
It’s a habit Potter has when he wants to ask a question.
“Sorry, I know this–it’s a weird request. You can say no. I just-um, can I have your-your undershirt? For…well, sometimes the heat doesn’t go away all the way, and you’re an Alpha, and it’d just–help. To have it, you know, chase people away from me on my way home.” Harry stops rambling and swallows hard, avoiding eye contact.
They both know Potter goes home by way of Apparition.
Draco takes in a deep, steady breath, smelling nothing but Potter’s faint, soft sweetness, and nods agreeably. He can’t smell a single hint of a heat on Potter, the arousing, overpowering scent of Potter’s heat a core memory Draco carries, having encountered it by accident once, but he agrees amiably because an Omega asking an Alpha for something must be nerve-wracking.
Potter asking Draco for something must be nerve-wracking, Draco understands.
He pulls his black vest off, then makes quick work of unbuttoning his white shirt, and finally he pulls his undershirt over his head, holding it out for Potter to take with his trembling fingers. Draco tries not to look at his pleased face, trying to approach the situation as professionally as he can.
He pretends it isn’t his cloak Potter stuffs the shirt into, just as he pretends this is the first time Potter is taking his clothes. At least he’s upgraded to asking now.
Draco slides his shirt back over his shoulders, buttoning it up smoothly, and then slips his vest over his chest, doing up the last button just as the doors open again. He studiously pretends Potter hadn’t been staring at him hungrily the whole time.
“Do you have it?” Draco calls out, sounding for all the world professional, like he hadn’t just stripped and handed his clothes over to Harry while they were gone. “Yes!” Hermione rushes towards him beaming, an old, ragged roll of parchment clutched triumphantly in her hand. Ron follows behind her quietly, holding the remains of their file.
They smack the parchment onto his desk and roll it out, both of them instantly poring over it, starting from the top. Harry takes a step back to give them space.
Merlin, he’s stupidly sexy. Any other Alpha and I’d get jumped immediately. His self-restraint is amazing. And those muscles, Circe, when does he work out?
Draco does his best to take a fortifying breath, ignoring the words rattling around in his mind, words that don’t belong to him. He scans the list with Hermione’s head bundled in next to his, both pairs of eyes skimming the record. It’s a mix of cargo, passengers, and miscellaneous paraphernalia, but Hermione seems to discover something she finds fascinating, eyes roving the list faster than his, grabbing the edge of the manifest with her hands.
“Here! It says Aphrodite’s Crown, the Bracelet of Aphrodite, and the Belt of Venus!” Hermione says, deciphering the words quickly, looking up at Draco excitedly. “We’ve found two of them,” Draco says, nodding solemnly, keeping his voice even. He looks over at the floor where a girdle sat, a baroque-styled bridal belt adorned with jewels and encrusted in gold, and nods at his notes approvingly. One item he correctly identified. It makes him proud.
“And I pulled out the tiara,” Hermione says happily, indicating the crystal and gold leaf headpiece near Ron’s foot. “Now all we have to find is the bracelet!” Harry walks over to inspect the headpiece on the floor, eerily reminiscent of Ravenclaw’s diadem, but much more glamorous.
Draco silently pulls his arm closer to his body. “Yes, just the bracelet is left.” He chances a glance back up at Weasley, who still avoids his stare. “Along with everything else in the chest, Granger. These are only the listed items.” Draco reminds her steadily.
“Oh, of course. I’m getting ahead of myself. But isn’t this exciting! The last known reference to the girdle of Aphrodite was from what, the Byzantine empire? Draco, this is extraordinary! It’s been missing since the 9th century!” The guys watch as Hermione barely restrains herself from hopping up and down, bouncing in place.
“Yes. If it was looted by pirates, it would account for why it’s been missing for so long. It’s a fantastic find we couldn’t have done without Weasley or Potter’s help.” Ron blushes from the admission and Harry smiles.
I didn’t do much of anything, really. I was at home getting off to toys and wanking to a pretty blonde’s face. But it feels nice to be included.
“Granger, what do you know about the bracelet?” Draco asks, forcing himself to maintain a modicum of calm. It’s the only listed artifact that’s missing, and whatever Granger knows, surely Weasley knows it as well. He’s not quite sure about Potter, who’s apparently spent the last week getting off to his er, collection of toys. Draco blushes very softly.
“It could possibly have existed during Homer’s time, though no mention of it appears in the Iliad. Wizarding records say ancient Macedonians believed it allows you to hear the voice that desires you most.”
“I see,” Draco says, “Nothing notable about it then, quite tame compared to our other finds.” He ignores the implications of Granger’s words as he glides his stare over to Weasley, to find him curiously frowning.
“Wait, Bill used to say there was an ancient Greek poem from Egypt where the bracelet was supposed to help you hear the voice of your desires.”
“I don’t see the difference.” Harry says, shrugging. “That sounds just like what ‘Mione said.” Hermione frowns at Ron. “You mean like mind-reading the person you fancy?”
“Yeah, like that!”
“What Greek poem would that be?” Hermione demands, “You can’t just go around mind-reading people at random!”
“That’s what Legilimency is for, mate.” Harry pipes up, and Draco stifles a laugh.
Harry cuts a shy smile at him and Draco smiles back. It’s a relief to hear he’s not going crazy, to know that Potter desires him “most.” But he wonders what Weasley was aiming for, if it’s not this. He was quite sure he was hearing the voice of his desires, judging by the look of things, if not hearing the voice that desired him most, too.
Thinking about it gives Draco a headache. “Okay, let’s tackle this slowly.” He says. “Weasley, Potter, you’re dismissed. At this point you’re no help to us, so leave Granger and I to the research and, I don’t know, go about what you usually do when we’re done with cases.”
Ron frowns at being dismissed but Harry takes it in stride. “C’mon Ron, let’s go. We know when we’re not wanted.” He goes and gives Hermione a hug and waves a little awkwardly at Draco from the doorway, unnoticed by the lovebirds while they share a quick kiss.
Draco waves back subtly, a quick lift of his hand.
He tries to read the manifest again, to compare it to his history book, propped open on his desk, when Potter’s voice filters through his head again, unchecked.
I bet he’d fuck me up real nice. Merlin, why does he have to smell so good? I hope I don’t mess up his shirt later, he’ll get so mad at me. I can’t believe he just gave me his shirt, just like that. All those years I made Ron steal–
Draco spells the door shut behind Weasley as soon as they cross the threshold. Hermione looks at him in sharp surprise.
–all his clothes so I could get through my heats. I really hope he doesn’t have a mate in mind yet. How do I ask him to consider me as an option? Subliminal messaging? Or do I just show up at his house naked and tell him I could make him babies? Not that we’re going to have babies any time soon, but I’m just as good as any other Omega. My womb is strong and Malfoy and I would make very pretty babies. We can have three.
It’s with great shock Draco learns the bracelet does not require close proximity to function. He puts his head in his hands, defeated. “Granger, I need your help.” He whispers, “Your idiot husband is torturing me.”
Hermione stares at him skeptically.
***
Draco makes his bed that night feeling just minimally better. Granger had laughed up a storm, completely understanding the pain he was in, but doing nothing to help.
“I believe Ron wanted Harry to hear your thoughts, to see if you’re interested in him so he’d finally make a move.” She said, eyes filled with mirth. “But you–oh goodness, you’re hearing Harry's thoughts and that’s-oh Merlin, that’s rich. He put it-put it on the wrong person!” She cracked up, which was a lot nicer than hearing another one of her lectures, but she did nothing to help Draco’s situation and personally, being the sole focus and recipient of Harry Potter’s innermost thoughts was killing him.
Draco puts on his dressing gown and sighs; his blooming headache had been raging since earlier and all he wanted now was a nice good night’s sleep. He falls into bed and curls into a ball, hoping Potter does the same.
Draco feels it when his breath falls into a rhythm, sleep almost claiming him.
Godric, I bet it’d feel good having him inside me. He could just bottom out and fill me up and knot me, he’d knot me if I begged hard enough right? I could get so wet for him. He wouldn’t have a single problem opening me up. Oh fuck.
Draco pushes a pillow over his head, ignoring the aching between his legs. He’s wide awake now, and his headache roars in his ears.
Merlin, I've seen his cock before. It’s so fucking magnificent. He could just push in, so deep, fill me up with his semen. Oh-oh! Shit, toys aren’t enough. Fuck, I wanna ride his–
Draco bolts upright and grabs his wand, storming over to his desk to jot something down frantically on a crispy new Howler. He ties it onto his owl’s leg quickly and positively throws the poor thing out the window in an irritated huff.
***
A clicking at his window has Harry rolling over, exhausted from his self-indulgent activity, and he absently waves his hand, allowing an owl to enter through his window.
He hugs a pillow to his chest, blinking wearily at the red Howler the owl drops onto his covers, not quite registering what it is just yet. It wiggles once, then pops up, floating in midair to deliver its screaming spiel, its voice a shocking mimicry of Malfoy’s.
“POTTER, GO TO SLEEP. I SWEAR TO SALAZAR, I WILL POUND YOU IN THE MORNING. BUT PEOPLE NEED SLEEP YOU HORNY BASTARD. JUST STOP AND SLEEP. MERLIN’S BALLS!”
Harry jumps after the message is delivered and he sits up in bed with a near heart attack, hand on his chest, staring at the ashes left over on his covers. Did…did Malfoy know what he was doing? Did he put a spell on Harry, or some sort of tracking device in his house? His bedroom?
How would that be possible?
Harry thinks back rapidly on the day’s events, pressing everything through a sieve in his mind, and several things stand out - naked Malfoy (well mostly naked Malfoy), nice Malfoy giving him his shirt, Malfoy reigning in his strong pheromones, and all the relics they’d found, plus the missing bracelet.
Bracelet?
Didn’t Malfoy have a silver bracelet on his wrist? What were the chances it was Aphrodite’s bracelet? Could it let him hear what Harry was thinking?
Every dirty thought he’s had about the blonde?
Even when he had his fingers up his arse, wishing Malfoy was his Alpha, fucking deep into him?
Harry turns beet red and scrambles for his wand, whisking away all evidence of what he’d just been doing. He knows it doesn’t erase anything, the pounding in his chest, hoping he’s reading this wrong, but oh Godric, it feels like Malfoy can see him, hear all his indecent thoughts.
Harry doesn’t know whether to be mortified or excited.
He can’t sleep, all exhaustion gone as he waits for the hours to whittle down till morning.
***
Harry enters the lift nervously, hoping no one can sense him beneath his invisibility cloak. He makes his way to his office sneakily, unnoticed by all, until he plops into his office chair. A Howler awaits him, sitting primly on his desk until his presence makes itself known.
It pops right up in his face, blows a raspberry, and begins hollering in Malfoy’s silky smooth voice.
“POTTER, I’LL BE WAITING FOR YOU IN MY OFFICE. AND DON’T BOTHER HIDING. THE GRANGER-WEASLEYS KNOW.”
Harry shrinks into his seat, mortified. Today is the day of his reckoning.
Ron stares at him motionlessly from his desk across the room before his face breaks out in the largest shit-eating grin ever. “You heard the man, Harry. Go. You fancy him, don’t you?”
“Piss off,” Harry mutters, as Ron makes suggestive gestures with his eyebrows.
“C’mon now, can’t be too bad. He’s got a thing for you too, or he wouldn’t call you out.” Ron says, barely hiding his amusement. “Just make sure you come back with a mate, okay? Don’t come home without a rich boy now, or I’ll disown you.” Ron jokes.
Harry flips him a rude gesture and storms out, ready to meet his maker.
***
Harry can't help but think that Draco looks drained. He sits there sipping his tea tiredly, his chin in his hand as he balances his cup in the air. The office is empty save for Draco and the treasure chest, and Draco’s sleeves are pulled up to expose the silver bracelet gleaming on his wrist. Exhaustion doesn't hamper his handsomeness though, and Harry takes a deep breath to steady himself.
Harry walks into the room bravely, a strong desire to sort out this mess, and the first thought that hits him, always hits him when he encounters Draco is Merlin, he smells so good.
Draco’s eyes shoot open and their eyes meet immediately before he gets up unhesitatingly, surprisingly respectful, pulling in all his pheromones so Harry doesn’t feel uncomfortable from its sometimes overpowering aura. Harry likes the feel of Draco’s pheromones blanketing him, but he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t think it either.
“Will you come here?” Draco asks, giving Harry the option to walk or run, to come or leave. Desire fans at him, at the tender look in Draco’s eyes, and he takes an unfaltering step towards the blonde.
In the three years they’d worked together as treasure hunters, researchers, adventurers, he’d never spoken a single word of his crush to Draco directly, scared of rejection, as all Omegas were characterized as needy and weak. But Draco treated him as casually as he did anyone else, as a dependable colleague, as a trustworthy partner, as an equal, and Harry loved him for it.
Draco’s hand deftly caresses his cheek as soon as he comes close enough, fingers brushing across his cheek gently. “I can truss you up, Potter, make you mine like you want. But you can’t undo a choice like this. You have to really want it.” Draco whispers, his sharp silver eyes imploring Harry to be cautious, to know danger when he sees it.
Harry wonders if Draco tastes as intoxicating as he smells, and he leans in slowly, determined to find out. His bright green eyes close when their lips meet and he sets a leisure pace, stumbling through his aching lust enthusiastically, both of them taking and giving in equal measure. Harry melts into Draco’s embrace, delighted by his touch.
An unfamiliar clicking sound has Draco pulling away and peering at him, eyes probing and careful as Harry confidently pulls his leather choker off and pushes it into Draco’s still hands. And Harry smiles at him, ready to take the pounding he was promised.
Draco stops breathing, just for a second, before he captures Harry’s lips again, intensely aroused, trailing kisses down his ticklish, bare throat. It’s heartening to know Potter is not being influenced by his heat, or a drug, or even Draco’s pheromones. This is his choice, and it’s brilliant and enchantingly euphoric.
They spend the next hour becoming very familiar with each other's bodies and Harry is thrilled to report to Ron that he did indeed come home with a rich boy. He even has a mark to prove it.
***
Hermione finds the bracelet of Aphrodite on the floor of her office later that evening and will not touch it, not with that suspicious, milky-white liquid all over it.
She sends a Howler to Draco and is quite pleased with the feeling of vindication that fills her. She can see now why he sends so many Howlers to people. She should do it more often.
It gets the point across quite well, thank you.