The Man From H.O.G.W.A.R.T.S. (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Twenty

   McGonagall fished a single sheet of paper from the multitude littering her desk, and handed it to Malfoy. "If you don't have any strong objections?" she asked him. "Your director has granted permission for you to be relocated indefinitely to the London office. Agent Potter can help you with any adjustments, I'm sure."

Agent Potter's mouth went dry. He and Malfoy were to continue being partners? He was to be based out of London? Would that mean he might want to consider carrying on with their affair, or had part of its appeal been its limited timescale?

Only one way to find out.

He sighed, conveying how great this burden was to him. "If we are to be shackled to one another still," he said heavily. "Then it is probably best if we stick close together. I can accommodate Agent Malfoy until he is settled; we can learn each other's ins and outs much quicker if we continue to co-habit."

McGonagall didn't react, other than to hold Harry's gaze for a moment longer than was comfortable. "You would be amenable to sharing your home?"

Harry shrugged. "It's more like a hotel room, he's not going to find out any secrets from me there, other than perhaps my inside seam measurement, or perhaps which brand of toothpaste I prefer. Although, I dare say he knows all that already. This won't be all that different to the mission – so long as Agent Malfoy has no issues with it?"

He turned his eyes to his partner, both in work and in bed, and gave him a smirk. Malfoy returned the look coolly. "No wife or children waiting at home? Agent Potter, you surprise me."

Harry glared, whilst his heart secretly swelled. He wondered if that had been on Malfoy's mind? If he had maybe assumed the worse and expected to be dropped like yesterday's newspaper once Harry was back in England. The opposite was so painfully true, Harry could have tap danced.

"I'm a surprising man," he drawled. He turned back to McGonagall. "Is that all? We are rather travel-worn is all," he explained. "A hot bath would go a long way at this point."

McGonagall rose to her feet, and the men followed suit. "For now," she confirmed, shaking each of their hands. "You are to report to my office tomorrow at 08:00 for debriefing."

Harry nodded. "Understood." And with that, he led Malfoy out.

They walked down the hallway in cautious silence. Harry's heart was hammering in his chest, but he didn't want to be the first to speak. He desperately wanted to know Malfoy was as happy as he was though with this new, more permanent arrangement, however he didn't want to appear weak by even hinting he was asking.

"You better have a decent bed for me to sleep in, Your Highness," Malfoy said eventually. His chin was held haughtily high, and he slipped his large hands into the pockets of his tan leather jacket. Harry's were hidden away likewise, and he ran his thumb over the smooth surface of the photographs. "You English have strange aversion to proper back support."

Harry scowled back at him. "We can't help that all you Ruskies are barbarians made of stone."

Malfoy tutted as they approached the elevator. "Such insolence," he chided, reaching out across Harry to press the call button. "I think perhaps when we get home, I shall fuck you on your knees. Teach you some manners, no?"

Harry spluttered, frantically looking around to check no one had heard. They were alone, but he was still indignant. He turned back to face Malfoy, fists curled up as he feigned fury. "Have you ever thought that you could do with a good fucking once in a while?" he hissed. He enjoyed playing up his outrage, but the truth was his heartbeat had sped up even faster than before, his veins thrumming with eager anticipation.

Malfoy's lip curled, and his eyes blazed into Harry's as the lift rattled upwards to greet them. "And a gag too, perhaps? You talk too much."

Harry would have carried on arguing, except the elevator doors pinged open, and they stepped inside with another couple of people already riding down. Harry would make a show of fighting back; he would call Malfoy a Godless brute the entire way home.

But once they were there, he knew he would melt under his lover's hands. Because the thing was, he had called it 'home' as well. They were going to share the space together; the bed was going to become their bed.

And he honestly couldn't think of anythingelse that would make him happier.