Angry voices echo down the hall outside his office.
Harry runs a tired hand down his face, sighing wearily. Shoveling down a handful of antacids, he pushes up from his desk, meeting the cause for his third ulcer this year head on.
“It was thanks to the information from my informant that we got the bastard, Granger!” Malfoy’s voice thunders.
“Oh yes – big thanks to your slimy, slithery friends, Malfoy – I wonder – would you even be able to do your job if you weren’t constantly rubbing elbows with London’s underground urchins?
“Would you rather I rub something else, Granger?” He counters.
They’re standing inches from each other outside the interrogation chamber, chests panting heavily. A Granger v. Malfoy row has become a frequent event since they became partners three months ago.
But despite their explosive tendencies – they got results.
Harry looks to his 87 year old secretary – her attention rapt on the two. Leaning over, she mutters, “Are you as turned on by this as I am?”
Groaning, Harry walks towards them, bellowing, “Enough!” He gestures to an open interrogation room. Hermione knocks Malfoy aside to enter, the blonde’s shit-eating grin following close behind her.
Harry turns to them, “So what in Merlin's name has your combined knickers in twist?”
Hermione snorts, “Malfoy thinks he should be the one to interrogate the man we just apprehended because he finally had a solid lead –”
“And Granger thinks just because she’s been working the case longer – she should do it.”
“I have!” Hermione shrieks.
“Yes – I know. I just said that.” Malfoy mocks.
“Alright – shut up both of you. My head hurts. I’m going to interrogate the bastard and you two are going to stay silent, in the corner and behave for more than twenty bloody minutes. Okay?”
“Um Harry…” Hermione starts.
“Yes?”
“It’s just – you’re rather awful at mindscapes – Legilimency isn’t really your thing…” she trails off.
She isn’t wrong. Harry is a terrible Leglimens, could never stomach the act of digging into a person’s personal thoughts – but it is getting late and he promised Theo he’d be home at a reasonable hour tonight. So he would deal.
“I’ll be fine. I am Head Auror after all. Nothing I haven’t heard before. And, if it goes south – you both can take a crack at the perp. Okay?”
They nod and give Harry a run down of the case, handing him the file.
Harry enters the interrogation chamber where a man in handcuffs is sitting.
The man’s eyes narrow at their entrance, “Ah brought in the big wands did, ya? To be honest, I wouldn’t mind letting those two pretty ones fuck my ‘ead a bit if you know what I mean.” He gestures to Hermione and Malfoy, chuckling darkly.
Harry pops another antacid. “Well you got me – we’re going to try Legilimency now. Just answer my questions truthfully and it’ll be over with quickly.” He holds his wand up and murmurs, “Legilimens.”
In terms of complexity, the man’s mind was certainly easier to navigate than others, the trick is staying focused. Keeping the connection open, Harry asks a few probing questions.
But rather than the answering thoughts of the man before him – another voice enters his head:
Did you wear that skirt just for me? I’ve been dying to run my hands up that slit all fucking day.
Harry blinks. The fuck? He turns his head and looks at Malfoy and Hermione who are casually standing in the corner of the room, facing opposite directions. Harry shakes himself and refocuses on the man in chains.
“Erm right – where were we?”
“You were asking about my contacts?” The perp helpfully supplies.
“Yes.” Harry searches the man’s head again, asking him a few easier questions this time, “Where were you the night of October the 13th?”
The man starts to answer, his mind coming up with an image of a warehouse.
But then – another consciousness answers.
What if I did – what are you going to do about it, Malfoy?
Oh, I won’t have to do much, Granger. I think we both know you’ll be begging for me to peel it off of you later.
You’re lucky this discussion is in your head – otherwise I’d find a clever way to keep that slippery tongue of yours from acting a complete arse.
Oh? Do tell, pet?
I plan to use a sticking charm to keep your smarmy mouth firmly between my thighs, where it belongs. Driving me bonkers with your taunts today.
Harry chokes on one of his tablets, coughing violently. Looking up to his friend, there’s a look of concern on her face – but no other reaction to the thoughts she just shared.
He needs to focus on the case at hand, he needs to –
Much as I look forward to dipping my tongue in your honey pot, I believe it’s my turn to enjoy a Silencio’ing of that swotty mouth with my wand, no? An Ep-cock-imise if you will.
Harry hears a shifting behind him, and a sharp intake of breath. He refuses to look this time, fighting a wave of nausea that has nothing to do with the stomach acid roiling in his gut.
Gods that was terrible and for some reason it makes me want to devour your cock even more. Can we leave now?
Potter will suspect – if he doesn’t already, darling. But fuck – I can’t wait to fuck every –
“Um – hello? Did you want me to answer that?” The perp, mercifully, interrupts Malfoy’s thoughts.
Ignoring the surprisingly forthcoming criminal, Harry pushes his chair back, the loud grating sound helping to block out any more rogue thoughts from entering his mind.
“You’re right. I’m terrible at this.” He shoves the file into Malfoy’s chest and exits the room, storming off towards the lifts.
Chucking the now empty bottle of ulcer meds away, he decides he would be needing a hell of a lot more than antacids to rid himself of those burning mental images.