Alright.
The more words they exchanged and the more they learned about each other's lives, the more Harry had to accept that while they may be getting along quite nicely, he and his cousin would never have a deeper relationship than this. Maybe they would meet once or twice a year, send cards for birthdays and for Christmas, but they would never - even though Harry would have liked it - become friends. They were aquaintances at the very best; cousins not necessarily because they wanted it but because they were just born as such.
It was a nice evening nonetheless. Kreacher's food was absolutely amazing, and Dudley kept telling Harry to tell his cook how amazing it exactly was. Kreacher was a house-elf, a magical being, so he and Dudley could not meet - not that Kreacher ever wanted to come face-to-face with a full Muggle. He had enough trouble keeping his mouth shut with Hermione around, but she at least had Wizard-blood in her veins and was nice to him.
When Dudley mentioned that the steak was fantastic, and even Harry had to admit that it was a better fit than the fish, Malfoy gave Harry that superior look of his where he looked down his nose at Harry, one eyebrow raised, and a disgusting smile curling his lips. If Harry didn't love him that much, he would hate him. And Merlin, how much he loved him. Even Dudley seemed to have noticed because during dessert, he looked from one man to the other, then smirked into his chocolate mousse.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Nothing," said Dudley. "I've been sitting with him for almost an hour before you came, and in all that time, he never looked as happy as he does now just sitting across from you."
Harry's eyes immediately snapped to Malfoy, who was - just as Harry had expected - scowling, and his cheeks were starting to blush. Harry grinned. Draco didn't like things pointed out about himself. He didn't like compliments, he didn't like it when people noticed things about him like if he styled his hair differently or if that was a new shirt, and he certainly didn't like it when people commented on his affection for Harry. Because to Malfoy, affection was weakness. That was what he'd been taught and what was hard to unlearn. Malfoy didn't want to show affection for anything, but since he was so in love with Harry, sometimes his mask slipped, and people could see. But people never commented. Harry had a free-pass, but their friends knew Malfoy well enough not to say anything, and strangers usually kept their eyes on the ground when they passed him.
"What?" Dudley asked, not oblivious to the fact that he might have said something wrong.
Harry laughed. "Nothing." He nudged Malfoy with his foot under the table, and Draco put his mask right back in place, hiding his emotions under a wall of neutrality. "He doesn't like people to know how much he likes me," Harry explained.
Dudley frowned and gave Draco a quick glance before saying to Harry, "But you're married."
That made Harry laugh again, and he nodded. "We are. We're just... different."
His cousin furrowed his brow and scooped up the last of his dessert. "I noticed. Potter," he perfectly imitated the way Malfoy said Harry's name.
Harry snorted but didn't say anything else because he knew that one more word would set Malfoy off again, and he didn't want to go through what they had already gone through that morning. Well, except for the sex maybe, Harry had to admit to himself. Malfoy, too, seemed relieved that the conversation moved away from him and to Dudley's girlfriend, for whom he moved to London in the first place.
Apparently, she was very nice, and Dudley's face lit up when he talked about her, which made Harry smile. That was another difference between his relationship with Malfoy and every normal person's relationship. If asked, Harry would describe his husband as an insufferable little prick, and Malfoy would say Harry was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
After dessert, when the sun was down and their bellies were full, Dudley and Harry finally exchanged phone numbers. Harry couldn't believe that they hadn't just managed to write down their numbers in a letter. They laughed about it and even hugged a second time in the hallway. When Dudley spread his arms for Malfoy, he, however, took a step back. Harry smiled a little when Malfoy reached his hand out for Dudley to shake it.
They said goodbye, and Harry closed the door behind his cousin, exhaling. Draco's hands were on Harry's hips even before he turned around, and when he did, their faces were so close that Harry could smell the wine on his husband's breath. When they kissed, he could taste it, too, and it was intoxicating. He grabbed Malfoy by the belt and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies flush together and Harry's back agaist the door.
"Merlin, you feel so-" the last word was swallowed as Draco moaned into Harry's mouth.
There was nothing but a breathy laugh passing Harry's lips, and when his hand brushed over Malfoy's bulge, there were no words, no thoughts inside his head. Nothing. Just pure, raw, all-consuming lust and love. Moaning, panting, and sweating, they somehow made it to the couch and took off each other's clothes.
After thirty-four heavenly minutes and switching positions several times, Harry and Malfoy were slumped on the couch, naked, tired, and happy. When Draco asked Harry how he had felt today, Harry noticed that he was slurring the words a little, and he had to smile. He wondered for a moment how much Draco and Dudley had had to drink before Harry had shown up, but he decided not to dwell on that. It had been a special occasion, and Malfoy had probably needed a little help to loosen up.
"Today was good," Harry replied and sighed happily. "Work wasn't that great, but seeing Dudley was good, and... you're good, too."
Malfoy raised his head off the cushion and furrowed his brow. "Good?" he asked. As Harry opened his mouth to reply, Malfoy wrapped his one hand around Harry's neck and the other one around his prick. "Is this good, Potter?"
Harry moaned, loud, and his eyes rolled back into his head. "God, yes. So bloody good."
They went another round, then, with Malfoy sitting on top of Harry and riding him as if his life depended on it. Harry ended up carrying his husband up the stairs, his knees shaking by the time they reached the master bathroom. The two of them brushed their teeth with half-opened eyes, swaying back and forth with the intoxication of alcohol and happiness.
In the bedroom, they quickly crawled under the blanket and covered their naked bodies. It was when Malfoy snuggled up to Harry and nuzzled his face into Harry's neck that Harry really realised how tipsy Malfoy actually was. It was rare that Draco was ever being cute like that, and Harry's heart melted at the physical affection.
"I love you, Harry Potter," Malfoy mumbled and kissed Harry's neck.
Harry chuckled and lifted his head off the pillow to press a kiss to the top of Malfoy's head. "I love you, too, Draco Malfoy."
Before they knew it, they were asleep, and when Harry woke up, Malfoy was lying on his back, his mouth hanging open and snoring. Harry grinned to himself, but because it was a Monday, he rolled out of bed. Still half-asleep, he grabbed underwear from the closet and put it on before slouching downstairs to the bathroom. A cold shower woke him up completely, and Harry wandered back into the bedroom to find his husband lying on his side, his knees pulled up to his chest.
Harry smiled and sneaked closer to the bed. He put his face close to Draco's and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Malfoy," Harry whispered, and Malfoy wrinkled his nose.
"Mmh," he mumbled with his eyes still closed and pulled his face away from Harry's. "Just wanna sleep, Potter."
Harry got to his feet again and looked for clothes in his closet. "Come on, get up," he said over his shoulder, getting dressed. "I'll come back in ten minutes, and if you're not up then, I'll lick your face."
Obviously, Malfoy had felt that this was an empty threat, because when Harry came back upstairs with a steaming cup of black coffee in his hand, Draco was still in the same position as Harry had left him. He placed the cup on the bedside table and leaned down. Harry stuck out his tongue and licked Malfoy across the cheek from the jaw to the eye.
"Ew, for fuck's sake, Potter!" Malfoy cursed, rolling away from Harry to the middle of the bed. At least his eyes were finally opened.
Harry laughed. "I told you I'd lick your face." He shrugged. "Got you a coffee."
That got Malfoy to sit up, and he sipped the coffee with a grumble. Harry watched him with a smirk. "Come on, grumpy. Take a shower and I'll go down on you."
In a matter of four minutes, Draco was showered, his hair was washed and gelled, and Harry was on his knees before him. They had breakfast, brushed their teeth, and kissed in front of the fireplace. Malfoy left first, scowling at Harry, but he could see his grin at the last second before the green flames wrapped around him and took him to Hogwarts.
"Okay, but how much can we actually trust him?" Ron has been spinning in his chair for the past ten minutes, and Harry was starting to wonder how he wasn't dizzy yet. "How do we know he's not double-crossing us?" Ron asked.
"Triple-crossing?" Dean offered.
Harry smiled a little, but the concern was real, and it was written all over his face. Frank Burke had proven himself useful in finding Avery's hostage, but the Aurors had no way of knowing if that had been just an act to gain their trust to betray them later, or if he really just wanted to change sides. Harry hadn't yet asked Malfoy about his opinion, even though Ron and Dean kept urging him to.
"He knows Burke," Ron had pointed out when the topic had come up this morning.
"And," Drean had added, pointing his index finger at Harry, "as fate would have it, you have a connection to him. He might actually tell you if you asked."
Harry knew that they were right. He had known it the first time they had brought it up, and he knew now. But speaking to Malfoy about a man who may or may not have been his friend once - Harry was still not sure - would only be one more uncomfortable conversation Harry would rather avoid. There was still so much that he didn't know about Draco's life and his past. Every time Harry thought he had peeled off the layers of the onion of Malfoy, there it was: another onion.
"He should be under surveillance," said Ron. "Someone should see to it that he doesn't contact Avery somehow."
Harry immediately felt three sets of eyes on him and looked up. "Don't look at me," she said, his eyebrows raised. "Malfoy would kill me. Or him." He shrugged. "Or both of us."
Ron gave him a look that said that Harry had a point, but he didn't say anything else.
"Maybe we also shouldn't be putting our greatest asset on babysitting-duty," Dean said, then added, "No offense, Ron."
Christopher gave Dean an outraged look that made Ron and Harry laugh. "Thanks a lot," he said, making the others grin at him, and Ron patted his head. Chris swatted his hand away and grunted.
"What is Frank doing now?" Harry asked.
"He's in his room for all we know," Dean replied. He and Chris had helped him get settled in the hotel right by the entrance to the Ministry.
Kingsley had gone to talk to him yesterday while Harry had had a visit from his cousin, and he had talked to the others in the team. He, for the most part, believed Frank and trusted that he could be of real help to Harry and the team. The guys knew that if the Minister said Frank could be trusted, he could be trusted, yet it wasn't wrong to have doubts. It wasn't as if Kingsley didn't have any doubts himself.
"Should we... get him here?" Christopher asked, sounding unsure whether that had been the right suggestion to make.
The three looked at him. Harry thought for a moment. If they were really deciding to try to work with him, they would have to meet with him at some point. Someone would just have to go over there.
"Sooo," said Ron, dragging out the vowel, "who'll go up and get him?"
Harry looked around at them again and shook his head when he saw their suggestive eyes on him again. "Come on," he whined. "I thought we've been through this."
Dean raised an eyebrow, but there was a smirk on his lips that was way too mischievous for Harry's liking. "Malfoy won't kill you for doing your job for a minute."
"Yes, no, he won't," Harry agreed. "But... I don't want to."
Ron laughed, so they played rock-paper-scissors to decide. It took only one round for Harry to lose. He threw his head back in exasperation and groaned. Of course. Getting up, Harry flipped his laughing friends off and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. That made his friends laugh even harder, and Ron dramatically wiped an imaginary tear out of his eye.
"He means business," he gasped through fits of laughter.
The hotel Frank was in was way nicer than a man in his position deserved. Harry asked himself if this was the Ministry's tactic of lulling him in so he would be happier to comply, or if this was just the best hotel for this unusual situation. Kingsley had offered them this option, and he had said that this wasn't the first time the Ministry was doing this - working with a member of the other party and having him stay close to the Ministry so he could help.
"Those were desperate times," he had told them. The first Wizarding War had torn the world in two, and after having lived through the second War himself, Harry could understand that The Order of the Phoenix had taken all the help they could get. Even if it was from someone working with Voldemort. But Kingsley's statement made Harry wonder whether these were desperate times, too. Were they really so helpless that they had to work with one of Avery's men? After all, Avery was by no means Voldemort.
"But he could become that," Harry thought to himself as he made his way along the red carpet that ran along the brightly lit hallway. Up here, he could feel how hot today was. It was always cool in the Auror Headquarters underground, no matter the season. But here, on the sixth floor of the hotel, Harry could really tell that it was the middle of June.
He knocked on the door with the number fourteen in gold letters and waited for a moment before Burke opened the door from the other side. His face immediately fell into a scowl Harry had become accustomed to during his many years at Hogwarts. Every Syltherin - including his own husband - had looked at him like that at one point or another, and they hadn't even been the only house. While always trying to do the right thing and say the right words, Harry had gained enemies nonetheless. It had been hard to accept that the people in this new place, this new home, hated him the same as the people in Privet Drive, which he had never, not once, considered his home. He had thought he would have to start accepting that maybe the Dursleys weren't the problem, but that it was really just him.
"What do you want, Potter?" Burke asked.
Harry blinked once, then raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think we'd let you stay here and order room-service all day long without coming to talk." He shoved Frank aside and stepped into the room, looking around. He had a view over central London, and Harry wondered if he would be able to see Dudley's flat from here. "Besides, you offered to work with us."
Burke closed the door and turned to look at Harry. He had dropped the scowl, and now there was a mixture of confusion and surprise on his face. Maybe he hadn't expected them to actually accept the offer and had thought Harry was here to throw him out. He made his way across the room, closer to where Harry stood by the large window, and before Harry could take a step back reflexively, Frank stoppped.
"You want me to work with you?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Harry nodded. "Full disclosure," he said, "we have little other choices here."
Frank raised his eyebrows again. "Full disclosure," he repeated Harry's words and tone, "I'm not interested in any attempt of yours to make me speak to Draco."
"This doesn't concern Draco, and I'm not planning on attempting anything," Harry replied in a cool voice. He didn't like the way this man was using Malfoy's name. "This is Ministry business. Draco Malfoy has nothing to do with the Ministry."
"Alright." Frank loosened his arms, and Harry knew from experience with Malfoy that this was him literally and figuratively opening up.
"Alright?" Harry asked.
"Alright," Burke repeated, nodding once. "I'll work with you."