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One Harry Potter, Please (If Possible, Seduced and Ready)

CHAPTER SIX

Harry shot a Stunner at the husband just as the curse hit Malfoy. Snatching the wand from Mrs Jones's hands along the way, Harry rushed inside in time to see Malfoy stagger. However, Malfoy didn't fall; instead, he ran into the living room, as another loud scream echoed through the house. Mrs Jones was yelling something, but Harry didn't hear her. All he cared about in that moment was catching up with Malfoy. Terrified for Malfoy's wellbeing, he burst into the living room and froze.

Malfoy was standing in the middle of the room, his wand pointed at an object that made Harry gasp.

In two seconds, Harry's mind cleared and he didn't know whether to collapse in relief or laugh himself silly. It was obvious now, but Harry was certain he should have made the connection sooner. He remembered that while flipping through channels on his television set yesterday, he stumbled on a scene of a Muggle woman screaming for help, demanding to know where she was while a masked man held her at gunpoint. It all made sense now. Especially after seeing Malfoy staring at the large and loud television currently showing a cartoon.

"It's a box," Malfoy said in a quiet, amazed voice. "It’s a screaming box."

Harry bit his lip, trying hard not to laugh. "It's a Muggle thing. It's just for entertainment." Harry did laugh then, almost fainting in enormous relief. Malfoy was fine. Everything was fine.

Malfoy cocked his head, looking at the cartoon cat chasing after a mouse. The cat stepped on a random broom, and then yelped as the handle hit it in its face.

Malfoy flinched. "What in the name of Merlin —"

Harry's sharp bark of laughter was interrupted as someone pulled on his sleeve. He turned around only to get slapped for the second time that day.

"What did you to my husband?" Mrs Jones screamed, her whole body shaking. As Harry rubbed his sore face, the woman snatched her wand from Harry's hand.

"Damn," Harry whispered, coming to his senses as Mrs Jones ran to the hallway and yelled, "Ennervate!"

"Malfoy, this is not good," Harry said, a little breathless. They had just attacked an innocent couple.

"I agree," Malfoy said, still sounding amazed. "This thing is evil. It has to be. I'm sure it's illegal to own it."

Harry turned to look at Malfoy, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's not evil. Don't you see? We attacked them and they didn't do anything. That thing isn't even charmed."

Malfoy frowned and considered this for a moment, accepting the truth slowly, but then he waggled his wand suggestively in the direction of the television. "It could be."

Scandalised, Harry whispered furiously, "No! Are you insane?" Then he paused and considered the possibility of setting this couple up so Malfoy and he wouldn't have to deal with the repercussions. Plus, he still hated the husband who cursed Malfoy. Disgusted with himself, he added quickly, "This isn't a Muggle area. The charge would never stick. So put your wand down."

Malfoy relaxed his stance, but he was still gripping his wand, his glare directed a little to Harry's left. "I don't want to put my wand down. That man still hexed me." Malfoy made an odd sort of movement with his shoulders, and proclaimed, pouting, "My back is itchy."

"That's because I hit you with an Itching Hex. Maniac," Mr Jones said, appearing in the doorway. Guiltily, Harry noticed the man looked dazed and was rubbing the back of his head where he must have hit it when he fell. His wife, who was shooting daggers at Harry, was helping him stand. Harry figured he had been a little too enthusiastic when he Stunned Jones; however, now was not the time to feel guilty. They had barged into a house and Stunned an innocent man who had done nothing but bought a Muggle television and apparently tried to cast a perfectly legal hex at Malfoy. Harry had to find a way to minimize the damage. Not so much for himself, but because of Malfoy. If anyone had to keep his record as clean as possible then that was Malfoy. He couldn't afford to attack innocent people during the first couple of months on duty. Everyone was watching him closely, waiting for him to make a mistake. Besides, Harry concluded that this was his fault anyway; he should have realised what was going on at once, and then none of this would have happened.

"Indeed you have, sir," Harry said sadly. "And well, I'm afraid one shouldn't go around hexing representatives of the law, therefore —"

"He hit you!" Jones burst out. "I thought he had gone insane and would kill us all. You think I don't know who he is?" Jones rubbed his head. "I regret it now, obviously. You deserved that," he said bitterly as his wife exclaimed, "I hit him too." Her husband patted he arm, pleased. "Next time I'll know better than to protect you. Defeater of the Dark Lord or not," Jones said, as Malfoy made a small retching sound.

Feeling increasingly guilty by the second, Harry switched tactics. "We are very sorry. This was a terrible misunderstanding. Your neighbours complained about the noise, and we've misinterpreted things."

The woman shifted her weight guiltily. "We just bought the box recently. We don't know how to turn it down and well, we've been watching it a lot. It is fascinating. We tried Silencing it, but it didn't work." She straightened importantly. "This brutal behaviour was still uncalled for."

"As I said, we're very sorry. Aren't we, Malfoy?" Harry added through gritted teeth.

Malfoy mumbled something, but clearly no one heard him because the Joneses were still looking at him expectantly.

Harry turned to give his grumbling partner a significant look, in his mind willing Malfoy to apologise.

Malfoy looked back at him darkly, then scratched his back and stuck out his bottom lip, but eventually, he said, "I . . . apologise."

The Joneses looked moderately appeased, and Harry breathed a little easier.

After Malfoy repaired a painting that had been smashed when Harry had cast the Stunner, and Harry had showed the Joneses how to turn down the volume on their television, and then explained how the remote control worked, the Joneses appeared to be in a good mood. They spent five minutes bickering about which one of them would hold the remote control in their hands. The aforementioned exchange made Malfoy look really ill, and he spent long minutes staring longingly at the door, clearly eager to leave.

The Joneses escorted them out, and then, still smiling, the husband said, "Oh by the way, I do expect you'll be hearing from our lawyer soon. Have a nice day." And then he slammed the door in their faces.

Harry sighed, defeated, as Malfoy turned around and stomped off.

"This was ridiculous," Malfoy said when Harry caught up with him.

"Very." Harry rubbed his jaw that appeared to be swollen. It certainly hurt a lot.

Malfoy stopped walking and he turned to look at Harry suspiciously. "Why did you grab me?"

Harry gulped and opened his mouth, but no words came out for a while. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't really sure why he had grabbed Malfoy in the first place. All he knew was that in that moment he believed something dreadful might happen, and all he wanted was to keep Malfoy near and safe. Of course, he couldn't tell Malfoy that. Not unless he wanted Malfoy to punch him again.

"Well, I," Harry was thinking quickly, "obviously, I realised this was just a television set and I tried to stop you from doing something stupid. Obviously." Harry cringed and hoped Malfoy didn't notice Harry had said obviously twice.

"Oh." Malfoy looked sheepish for a mere moment, but then he turned around and said imperiously, "Well, next time try to use your mouth not your hands."

Harry groaned inwardly, chasing away the unwanted images that Malfoy's innocent remark had created.

"I don't appreciate being manhandled like that," Malfoy continued. "I'd ask you to use your brain next time, but I suppose that would be too much to ask."

Harry kept silent, not daring to speak. His mind was full of thoughts in which he manhandled Malfoy and used his hands and mouth in various ways.

"Ridiculous," Malfoy said again, shaking his head. "I'm just wasting my time. Someone out there hates me and wants me to get stupid assignments."

Harry looked at his feet, still not saying a word.

"We should go back to the Headquarters." Malfoy sighed, dejected.

Harry nodded, sneaking a glance in Malfoy's direction and noting that Malfoy looked extremely disappointed. He was looking forward to arresting the bad guys and saving the good guys. Another pang of guilt shot through Harry, so he quickly looked away from Malfoy's sad face and Disapparated.

To their mutual surprise they both appeared in the back alley a little away from the Ministry visitor's entrance instead of at the Ministry. They must have been trying to avoid each other's company, Harry thought unhappily.

Malfoy looked a little pale as he shook his head and mumbled, "This has to stop."

"I'm sorry," Harry said defensively. "I didn't follow you here. I . . . I thought I'd go and grab a bite to eat."

Malfoy looked at him sharply. "Oh. Of course. I suppose you have a date with Hogan. I don't know how you could possibly manage to eat without him." Malfoy's glare was icy.

Harry was furious at once. Why did Malfoy have to call it a date? Why did he act as though Derek and Harry were an item when they were not? And why did that bother Malfoy so much? Even if they were a couple, why would Malfoy care?

"That's none of your business," Harry said flatly and turned to leave, cursing under his breath.

He almost made it to the street when Malfoy grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Harry was too shocked to resist and he stumbled as he was forced to turn around. To his horror — and delight — he ended up pressed flush against Malfoy's chest.

Malfoy's eyes were wide, and Harry knew Malfoy didn't expect them to end up in this position when he grabbed Harry.

He should move away, Harry thought, but his limbs refused to listen to him. Why would he move away when his body had aligned itself with Malfoy's so perfectly as though it was a missing piece of a Malfoy puzzle? They were almost of the same height; Malfoy had an inch or two on him, so their mouths were close enough for Harry to feel Malfoy's hot breath caressing his lips. A little overcome, Harry rapidly made his decision — he would lean in and kiss Malfoy. He would. Malfoy already punched him once today; he might as well punch him again.

Harry leaned in a little closer, his heart pounding madly against his ribcage, threatening to burst out of chest. Malfoy even opened his mouth as though he would welcome the kiss, but instead of leaning in to meet Harry halfway, he spoke, "You have your cloak on, you idiot."

Harry blinked. Did that mean Malfoy would rather have him naked?

Malfoy released him and all but jumped back, looking confused. Or alarmed. "Muggles, Potter?" he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Realisation hit Harry — he was about to step on a Muggle street in a cloak in the middle of a day. Right. That wasn't a good idea and Malfoy simply tried to stop him. He didn't want to randomly hug Harry, or kiss him, or have him naked.

"I forgot," Harry said, breathless. Shakily, he transfigured his cloak into a coat, trying to calm down. He had broken his no-Malfoy-touching rule twice today. Things were getting worse. And Malfoy — Harry looked up to see Malfoy transfigure his own cloak, his own hands shaking a little — Malfoy looked freaked out. With good reason. Harry was much too close to simply jumping him and deal with the consequences later. Clearing his throat and recovering slowly, Harry said, "Next time, use your mouth not your hands."

Malfoy looked taken aback, but then his mouth twitched, and he almost smiled. "Funny, Potter." Coming closer and still almost smiling, he gave Harry a furtive sort of look. "I could . . ." Malfoy waved his wand, "heal that for you," he said, looking at Harry's jaw. "It looks awful."

"Sure." Harry swallowed, nodding, amazed that Malfoy had offered. Was Malfoy trying to off him with strange proposition? Did he suspect how Harry felt and was now teasing him? Ridiculing him? Because this was crazy. This was almost an apology; Malfoy even looked troubled, as though he truly regretted hitting Harry.

Harry stood still and held his breath as Malfoy approached and gently pressed the tip of his wand to Harry's jaw. Malfoy frowned and placed his palm to Harry's cheek, making him tilt his head a little. Taking another shuddering breath, Harry could not stop himself from leaning into Malfoy's touch, marvelling at the perfection of that contact. The tingles of the healing spell had nothing on the tingles that spread from Malfoy's palm, magically warming Harry's entire body. Harry stared at Malfoy's concentrated expression, admiring Malfoy's cheekbones and the small lines that appeared around his eyes as he focused his gazed on Harry's bruise. His face was so close. Harry was almost hyperventilating, giddily realising that not only had he broken his no-touching rule today, but Malfoy had touched him twice now. Voluntarily.

"There." Malfoy stepped back, moving his hand and wand away. Harry's cheek felt cold without Malfoy's palm warming it. "Perfect," Malfoy proclaimed, staring at Harry's face, probably admiring his work.

"Thanks." Harry's cheeks warmed up and he quickly looked away, fearing he was blushing. "We should . . ." He waved towards the street and Malfoy blinked a couple of times, as though confused about something, but then he said, "Oh. Right."

As they walked toward the telephone box, Harry attempted to calm his steps, trying in vain not to bounce. He was feeling incredibly cheerful. His jaw no longer hurt and Malfoy touched him without showing any sign of disgust. This day seemed quite brilliant all of a sudden.

They were nearing the diner, and Harry was just about to suggest they should go in and have lunch when Malfoy's expression darkened. He stared at the diner for a moment and then gave Harry a nasty look, revulsion clear in his face.

"Your boyfriend is waiting for you," he said — almost spat— the words, and then turned around and left.

Confused, Harry looked at the diner and spotted Derek, who was waving enthusiastically, smiling his broad smile.

"He's not my boyfriend," Harry said sadly, but Malfoy was too far away to hear him. No longer happy, Harry sighed and walked into the diner.




The rest of the day was as boring and uneventful as Harry's days usually were lately. They had a couple of more assignments, handpicked by Harry, and then went to their separate ways. Harry said he had to do something and then Malfoy said he had to do something as well. Harry waited for Malfoy to leave and then he rushed to see their Head of Department. He told her what happened this morning, altering the story a little, and assuring her that he had known what was going on all along but he didn't say anything to Malfoy because he thought the result would be funny. The Head of the Department was appalled and though she eventually promised she'd take care of it, she told Harry that he was stuck with Malfoy until the two of them stop acting childish and learn to get along. Harry hated himself after he realised this threat had cheered him up considerably.

He arrived home very late because he had been walking around and spent hours not thinking about Malfoy's palm on his cheek. Eventually, the cold chased him to his apartment and he was surprised to find an unfamiliar owl waiting for him on the kitchen table.

The owl brought him a package containing an expensive looking bottle of wine and a letter from his secret admirer. This letter was longer and amorous, and it made Harry blush against his will. It was soothing and flattering to see such kind and passionate words directed at him. The owl waited, presumably for a response, but Harry chased it away. Lovely though the letter had been, he had no wish to encourage this person.

As the owl flew away and Harry was closing the window, a dark shape in the street caught his gaze. It wouldn't be an unusual occurrence to see someone skulking about in the dead of night, but Harry was positive this was a wizard because the person was wearing a cloak. This was a Muggle neighbourhood and, Malfoy's supposed friends aside, he didn't know of any wizards that lived nearby. Harry's suspicions turned out to be true when the owl that brought him the bottle flew directly at the person standing in the dark.

Unnerved, Harry quickly closed the window and tuned off the lights, casting several charms on the bottle, making sure it wasn't cursed. It was hard for him to determine how he felt about this, but if he was to give a name to the emotions that had possessed him, he would say that this made him nervous. Whoever this person was, he was serious. And Harry was no longer sure in his initial assessment — if this guy was hanging around his building at night, it was unlikely he would give up easily.

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TBC

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