Good morning fellow H/D shippers! *waves*

This fic seems to have become a group effort. I’m so lucky to have friends to help me out when I need it!

So thanks to sesheta_66, winnett, lily_firebolt, & queenbarwench for helping me with a name for Mr. Walking Sex, Greek God, Hot Reporter Guy. (See if they hadn’t come up with a name that is what you would have had to put up with.)

And thanks to everyone at harrydraco who helped give me French lessons. Especially glorafin who even checked it over when I was done to make sure I didn’t totally mutilate the beautiful language. :~)

And of course a huge thanks to the fabulous sesheta_66 for the wonderful beta job! And thanks to tweeney for helping me with a name! *hugs and kisses to you both!*

Wow, I feel like I’m at the Oscars or something. *g* So I’ll shut up now already! *ducks under table to avoid flying objects* Love you guys!

To start at the beginning of the story, or to find out what my hot H/D encounter was, go here.


Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I don’t make money from them, I just love to play with them every now and then!

Chapter 10 - Complications

The next morning Harry opened his eyes to a flutter of messages hovering over his head. He snatched them out of the air, and tried hard not to wake Draco as he read.

“Mmm, love letters?” Draco asked in a sleepy voice as he stretched like a waking panther.

“Well,” Harry said as he handed one of the messages to him. “If Evrard and Corin are sending you love letters, I’ll need to have a talk with them.”

Draco took the note, grinning as he sat up to read it. “They’re back. They want to meet us this morning for breakfast.

“Great. Hermione’s set up the interview for just after lunch. Apparently the reporter she had suggested is unavailable, but she says she’s found a suitable replacement. It looks like today will be a busy day.” Harry started to get up but found himself being pulled back into bed by a warm, insistent hand.

“We have a little time, don’t we?” Draco’s voice was deep and serious and Harry’s heart rate immediately quickened.

“Yeah, I’d say we have a little time.” He climbed back under the covers where Draco draped a long slender leg over him. “I won’t have you all to myself for the whole day.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” Harry whispered into his ear, kissing him gently.

“I was never mad,” Draco said, a little defensively. “I was disappointed.”

“Draco, I…” Harry ran his hand down Draco’s side and caressed his hip in what he hoped would be considered an affectionate gesture. “You know it’s not that I don’t want to be seen kissing you. I just don’t want what we have turned into a front-page scandal. They’ll twist it into something it’s not and that won’t do either of us any good.”

Draco lay back with an exasperated huff. “I know.” Draco reluctantly looked up into Harry’s eyes. He was still a little angry and hurt, but he wasn’t sure exactly why. He wanted very much to reach up and bring Harry into his arms and tell him none of it mattered. To take him far away from the press and the pressure of being The Boy Who Lived. To run as far away from the letter and danger as they could get. To hide where no one could find them, so it could just be the two of them forever. But that wasn’t how life worked. He felt like he was navigating in the dark and he wasn’t sure which way to turn. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “It’s your life; I can’t tell you how you should live it.”

“You’re not,” Harry insisted. “You're just… braver than I am, I think.”

Draco snorted. “Let’s see, Harry Potter, the man who killed Voldemort, and Draco Malfoy, the man who ran away to France and hid for seven years. Yes, I can see that I’m so much braver than you are.”

“It’s easy to be brave when facing the people you hate; it’s the people you like that are the problem.”

“You mean like Weasley?” Draco asked, studying Harry’s face and feeling a familiar pang of jealousy.

“Yeah, all the Weasleys, and Remus, and everyone that fought with me in the war, really. Plus all those adoring fans that love me as long as I stay in the little box they’ve put me in, but will turn against me the minute I step out. When I have to face them, I’m a complete coward.”

Draco wanted to scream or hex Harry to within an inch of his life. If this were anyone else, he would tell him in no uncertain terms to fuck off. But this wasn’t anyone else; this was Harry. The only person who had ever made him feel. When they were younger, Harry made him feel hate and jealousy. During the war Harry had made him feel hope. Now Harry made him feel something entirely different and foreign but wonderful at the same time. “You asked me to trust you. You asked me to give you everything that I am, and I will, I...” Draco took a deep breath as the full extent of what he was saying sunk in. “I already have, Harry. But if you can’t stand up to them, this will never work.”

Harry laid his head against Draco’s shoulder. “I can. I will, I promise. I just… I guess I need to ease into it. This all happened so fast, I just need to take this part slowly. Is that okay? Can we do that?”

“And what if I say no? What if I say we do it all the way or we don’t do it at all?”

The reality of what Draco was saying ripped the air out of Harry’s chest. He wouldn’t allow his weakness to ruin this. He’d given so much for others during his life; he wouldn’t let anyone take this away from him. He looked up at Draco resolutely and grinned. “Then we get dressed and go have sex in the lobby of the Daily Prophet.”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled Harry to him and held him has tightly as he dared. “I don’t think that will be necessary, hero, but thanks for offering.”

Harry deposited a line of feather light kisses up and down Draco’s throat, trying to show him how sorry he was for being afraid. The feel of Draco’s skin against his own ignited a fire deep within him. A fire he knew came from more than lust and desire. His hands roamed Draco’s face, his neck, his shoulders, mapping and memorizing every dip and curve. When their lips finally met, it was forceful and possessive. Harry wanted Draco to know that no matter what the world saw, this was what mattered, just the two of them, together.

It didn’t take long before fear was the last thing on Harry’s mind. Draco flipped him onto his back and left a path of love bites and teeth marks down Harry’s chest and stomach until there was nothing in his mind, nothing in the world at all, except for Draco and the incredible things he was doing with his tongue. Harry wanted to buck into Draco’s mouth, to feel more of that warm wetness, but he was held to the bed by a firm grip. Just when he was close to orgasm, Draco would slow down and pull back until the fire in Harry’s gut lessened. Then Draco would start all over again and all Harry could do was whimper, and whimper he did, begging for release, begging Draco to let him come. Harry had never begged for anything. Voldemort had captured him and tortured him for days, and still he wouldn’t beg. They had starved him for over two weeks, but still he wouldn’t beg. But this, this was torture of the most exquisite kind, and Harry would beg forever if it meant Draco would never stop. By the time Harry finally came he hardly knew his own name, but he could hear his voice chanting Draco’s over and over.

~~~

“So, you have information?” Draco asked abruptly as he sat in the chair next to Evrard.”

Corin stifled a laugh as he said, “Good morning to you too, boss.”

Draco’s lip twitched, but he refused to smile. Corin and Evrard had been with him almost from the beginning. They knew him better than he would ever admit, and they were as close to friends as he would ever let himself get. “I’d say that depends on what you have to tell me.”

Harry had to laugh. It amazed him how Draco could be so hot and sexy one minute, and so businesslike the next. It not only amazed him, but it made him want to drag the man back up to their room and postpone breakfast for yet another hour.

Evrard started in on his report right away. This was obviously a routine they were all familiar with. “No luck on the parchment. Scrivenshaft’s keeps pathetic records of their customers, and even more pathetic records of their inventory. But we do have some interesting information on the ink.”

“The silver that was added is usually found in potions, but it is currently illegal throughout all of Europe. It is laced with a poison that, if ingested, will kill within seconds,” Corin added.

Harry looked at Draco cautiously, his heart racing in his chest. “So, I guess it’s safe to say it wasn’t just a friendly letter then.” He had been sure the letter had been a threat, but to have it confirmed made him even more worried. And from all indications, this was personal, which made whoever sent it the worst kind of enemy.

“It’s also probably safe to say we were correct in assuming we’re dealing with a Slytherin. A very clever Slytherin,” Draco said, as he returned Harry’s gaze with a worried look of his own.

“And a wealthy one,” added Evrard. “This type of ingredient is not only illegal, but also rare and extremely expensive. To use it in an ink, where it has no possibility of being ingested, was a waste of a very valuable resource. Only someone with plenty of gold would be so wasteful.”

“And where would one acquire such a rare, expensive and illegal substance?” Draco questioned.

“From what we’ve been able to ascertain, there’s only one place that might be able to get it, and you would need well placed connections, even then.”

“Elixirs et Alambics,” Evrard added with a touch of awe in his voice.

Harry looked at the three men questioningly.

“It’s the Borgin and Burkes of Paris,” Draco explained to Harry. “Only they specialize in rare or hard to find ingredients. They’re located on the Impasse des Ombres; the place makes Knockturn Alley look like an ice cream shop.” Draco pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. If whoever sent the letter was a customer of Elixirs et Alambics, he wasn’t some petty prankster. This had suddenly become much more serious.

~~~

“Lunch is served, Harry Potter, sir.”

“Thank you, Dobby. Have you seen Draco?”

“Yes, sir, he is in the library. And he is not looking very pleased when I popped in to tell him lunch is served,” Dobby said with watery eyes.

“Sorry, Dobby.” Harry tried to console the little elf by laying a hand on his shoulder. “It hasn’t been the best morning for him.”

Dobby nodded vigorously before he disappeared. Harry took a deep breath before heading to the library. He’d much rather face an irritated dragon than Draco at the moment. The news from Corin and Evrard had left them both feeling a bit frazzled. Harry found him hunched over a table scribbling furiously. Wadded pieces of parchment lay all over the table and the floor next to his chair.

“Writing letters to your pen pal?” Harry asked jovially.

“What the hell is a pen pal?” Draco barked.

Harry walked behind him and started massaging his shoulders. They were so tense Harry got the impression he was kneading stone. “Never mind. What are you doing?”

“I’m writing my memoirs,” Draco said sarcastically.

Harry narrowed his eyes and sat down at the table. “You don’t have to be such an arse. It was a simple question.”

Draco slammed the quill on the table and looked up at Harry apologetically. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was trying to write out my story for the interview. I thought it would be easier than telling it to a complete stranger. I guess I was wrong.”

Harry took both of Draco’s hands and brought them to his lips to kiss them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous.”

“I’m not nervous… okay, I am nervous, but I just… I don’t know if I can go through with this.”

Scooting his chair closer to Draco’s, Harry wrapped his arms around him. “You’ll be fine. Just tell it the way you told me. This isn’t Rita Skeeter, remember. He’s on our side.”

“There are no sides with the press, remember? There’s only a story. And what if he asks questions I don’t want to answer? What if he starts asking about my parents and their involvement in the war? What if he asks about Dumbledore? What can I say to defend myself against what I did? Harry, no matter what I’ve done in the last seven years, people will never forgive me for what happened before.”

“I did.”

Draco huffed, but a small smile broke through his bitter expression. “That’s just because you wanted to shag me senseless.”

“Hmm, well, maybe he will too,” Harry said grinning, extremely happy with himself that he could break through Draco’s walls so easily.

Draco raised an eyebrow and smiled coyly. “Are you suggesting I use my charms on an unsuspecting innocent?”

“I would never suggest such a thing. And if he touches you I’ll have to kill him.” Harry teased. “But first, we need to have lunch, and you owe Dobby an apology.”

Draco laughed. “Yes, I suppose I do. But I doubt he’ll ever pop in unannounced when I’m working again.”

Harry shook his head and leaned in to give Draco a kiss.

~~~

“Mr. Sebastian Stavros is here from the Daily Prophet, sir.”

“Thank you, Dobby. Show him in.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand to reassure him and watched as Draco’s face became blank and businesslike once more. He radiated confidence and pride, the embodiment of a man who had no concerns, doubts or fears. “One of these days you’ll have to teach me how to do that.”

Draco smiled. “It’s an old family secret, passed down from generation to generation. You’d never be able to master it.”

Draco stood to greet their visitor just as the door to the sitting room swung open. Harry watched in frozen fascination for the next few minutes as a scene like none he’d experienced before played out before his eyes. The reporter was sex personified; there was no better way to describe him. He glided into the room and met Draco with a handshake that lasted entirely too long. He was taller than Draco by at least three inches, wearing perfectly tailored robes, probably from the most expensive tailor in town, Harry thought derisively. Even with the robes covering it, Harry could tell the body underneath was just as faultless as his tanned, perfectly chiselled face, which looked like it had been carved by the hand of a talented artist. His unbelievably long lashes framed blue eyes that shimmered as they roamed up and down Draco’s body like he was inspecting a fine morsel of meat. Harry pulled his eyes away from the man just long enough to see Draco smirk.

“You, of course, know Harry Potter,” Draco said motioning to the spot where Harry sat.

Some unknown force pulled him to his feet, and he walked toward the man with an outstretched hand.

“I’m honoured to meet you, Mr. Potter. Hermione speaks very highly of you.” Harry suddenly felt like an awkward fourteen year old and could think of nothing to say other than, “Hello.”

Draco handled the situation like a host entertaining at a dinner party. Tea was brought in and Mr. Stavros and Draco exchanged small talk as if Harry wasn’t in the room.

“So, Draco… it’s alright if I call you Draco, isn’t it?” The man simpered, and Harry gritted his teeth to keep from reaching for his wand.

Draco, seemingly oblivious to the obviousness of the man, crossed his legs smoothly and nodded.

“From what Hermione’s told me, I expect this will be a bit difficult for you. So why don’t you start wherever you’re comfortable and I’ll hold my questions until you’re done.”

Draco told his story, from beginning to end, with elegance and humour. Not a trace of insecurity or concern in his eyes. He never mentioned the letter, as they had agreed, and he never once mentioned Harry.

“What an amazing story, Draco. I must commend you on your courage.”

Harry had to bite his tongue when he saw Draco’s cheeks pink at the flattery. “I assure you courage had nothing to do with it, Mr. Stavros.”

“Please, call me Sebastian.” The man smiled, and it lit up his face like the sun peeking out from a cloud on a dreary day.

“I mean no disrespect, but I must ask. Why did you call on Mr. Potter for protection when you came back? The schoolboy rivalry between the two of you is legendary. Everyone knows you aren’t exactly friends.”

Draco looked at Harry for the first time since Mr. Stavros had arrived. “I prefer to have the best, and anyone in the business will tell you he is the best.” Harry saw something flicker in those grey eyes, but it was gone before he could interpret it.

“Yes, yes, that would be the logical thing, I suppose. Well, I think I have what I need for a smashing front page article.” He stood and then hesitated before turning back to Draco.

“Hermione insisted I not ask for a photo; however, the photos we have are at least seven years old. In order to convince the public that you’re truly a hero, I’d suggest we include a current photo of the more mature, respectable Draco Malfoy I see before me.”

Draco hesitated for only a second before agreeing, and Mr. Stavros promptly brought out a camera from his robes. After taking several pictures of Draco standing stately by the fireplace, Mr. Stavros turned to Harry and smiled. “Well, Mr. Potter, once these photos hit the front page of the Prophet I daresay you will have competition for that Most Eligible Bachelor title you’ve held for so long.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to respond before the man turned back to Draco and continued as if Harry didn’t exist. “And you, my dear fellow, will have invites to every party in London within a week.”

Draco laughed as he showed the reporter to the door.

Harry sat, flabbergasted by what had just happened. Part of him was immensely happy that everything had gone so smoothly. But the nagging voice in the back of his mind kept pointing out how well Draco had avoided any contact with him for the last two hours. How Draco had hardly looked at him from the moment Mr. Greek Sex God had walked through the door. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him things were about to get a lot more complicated.

~TBC