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Draco was sitting at his desk and slogging through about a month of overdue reports—oops—when his name was abruptly called.
“Malfoy!”
Draco’s head shot up at once.
Oh, no.
Gawain Robards was storming down the corridor, and Draco hurriedly put down his quill. “Yes, sir?”
“In my office. Now,” the Head of the DMLE demanded, and Draco jumped up to quickly obey.
Slightly fearing that his latest partner had put in a complaint about him—Draco was a delight, thank you very much, but trust the old Aurors to hold a grudge—Draco slipped into his office, surprised to find Potter and Weasley already there.
But before he could say anything, Robards swept into the room, and Draco hurriedly sat down.
“So…” Robards said, looking over the three of them. “I need you to stop whatever case you are on, right now. There’s been an emergency, and I need you on it.”
“What’s happened, sir?” Potter was unusually polite.
Not that Draco had really had a chance to see him and Robards talk before, as Potter and Draco tended to stay out of each other’s way.
Less chance of explosions in the corridor, that way. They’d all learned from their initial Auror training.
And trust him—with Weasley, it was no better.
Robards sighed. “It’s my son, Rupert. He’s been attacked. He’s in St Mungo’s now—in their critical care centre. It’s some sort of Dark poison, they—they think that they’ve finally managed to stop it racing around his blood now, but honestly, I’m a bit too worried anyway. He’s unconscious, and on their highest tier of monitoring.”
“But…” Draco frowned. “I thought that Wilhardt was standing guard.”
At least, that’s what Draco’s Auror partner had said he was doing that morning, when he’d told Draco to finish writing up their reports from the previous week.
“He was,” Robards sighed, crossing his arms. “He’s been injured—as have the other Aurors stationed with him—Qarvet and Rovenov.” Robards paused before continuing. “When Rupert collapsed, they went to his aid. But apparently the poison was by then surging through Rupert’s skin, and they got a second-hand dose.”
Draco exchanged a horrified look with Weasley and Potter.
After the war, there had been a lot of disgruntled wixen—on both sides. Those who thought Death Eaters or their families deserved stronger punishments, and those who protested against harsh law measures that put—in a lot of cases—innocent wixen under too much scrutiny.
Safe to say, both sides had been very vocal against Robards, and he had received a number of threats.
“So what would you have us do, sir?” Weasley asked next, his blue eyes intense.
Robards looked at each of them, one by one.
“I’m setting up two task forces. Longbottom will take one—they’re investigating security and how the intruders got into Rupert’s home. And I want you three to find the person who did this.” Robards looked through a stack of folders on his desk and drew one out. “These are the details of what Rupert has been doing—everything he’s come into contact with in the past forty-eight hours.”
Robards held out the file, and Draco and Weasley both reached for it, but Draco managed to snatch it first. Ha! Weasley narrowed his eyes, but Draco merely sat back, crossing his legs, schooling his face into an inquisitive frown.
“The poison in Rupert’s system has magical traces from Kent—Ashford, in particular,” Robards continued, “so the DMLE has arranged travel and accommodation for you to investigate there. It’s been a bit busy, what with Yule coming up, but they found a Muggle hotel that still had vacancies. I’d like you to head there within the hour to get started. All understood? Anything needing further discussion?”
The three of them shook their heads.
“Good. Now, I’m going back to the hospital. Best of luck, gentlemen. May your wands and hearts be swift.”
When Draco, Potter, and Weasley finally arrived at their hotel in Ashford, Draco with his travel valise, and Potter and Weasley each with a burlap sack (well, they may as well have been, even though they called them duffle bags), the bored hotel manager placed a single key on the desk.
One.
“No, I don’t think that’s right,” Potter frowned. “The booking is for three people.”
Weasley nodded emphatically, but the hotel manager just drummed her fingers on the table.
“That’s the room, boys. Don’t blame me—we’re all booked out for the holidays.”
“Maybe there’ll be three bedrooms inside,” Weasley said, as they all squashed into the tiny metal lift, which clunked its way up.
“Maybe,” Draco echoed.
He had a nasty feeling, though.
When they opened the door they stopped in their tracks.
Before them was a cheery room, with a wooden table, fireplace, cluster of cosy armchairs, well-stocked kitchenette, large window overlooking the sparkling lights of the town, and a bed in the far corner. There was a door in the corner, which Draco discovered led to a surprisingly luxurious bathroom, but there was no getting over the one obvious problem in the room.
“There’s only one bed,” Potter noted.
“For three people?!” Draco exclaimed.
Oh, fucking hell. How could this assignment get any worse?!
Weasley let out a sigh, then yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Fine, take the floor. Harry and I’ll share the bed.”
“What? No.” He was not going to be taking the floor. “We’ll share.”
Potter raised an eyebrow. “Fine.”
Draco let out a huff and stormed out of the room.
This was going to be a nightmare.
Draco thought back over what they'd discussed. There were three top suspects: a chocolate shop, a winery, and a florist.
These three businesses all had wixen owners, and all had members of their families involved in the war.
They’d decided to investigate the chocolate shop first, which was the closest, and when Potter and Weasley finally made their way down to join him, Draco led the way out of the hotel. They gathered in the back lane, looking around them quickly to ensure they were in enough privacy to Apparate, and focused on the Apparition point near the chocolate shop Chocolat Rémy Renaud, just over the hill and tucked away from Muggle view.
When they finally arrived at the coordinates, Draco pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. It was bloody cold, and it had started snowing. Potter and Weasley were laughing together as they walked down the hilltop and gazed down at the shop before them.
“I do not know why this inconsiderate criminal had to act in the dead of winter,” Draco said crossly, almost glaring at the cheerful chocolate shop.
“Oh, lighten up,” Weasley grinned, which made Draco glare back harder at him. Then Weasley shrugged. “It’s a chocolate shop! Oh, maybe we can get some samples—you know, as, er, part of the investigation.”
“Yeah, right, you’re taking this investigation so seriously,” Draco scoffed.
Weasley and Potter were wearing colourful woolly jumpers (in gold and red with their initials), for Merlin’s sake.
So professional.
“Well, look,” Potter said seriously, and Draco grudgingly turned to him. “It’s hardly likely that Chocolat Rémy Renaud is actually poisoning people, but we have to start somewhere, so let’s just get this done, then we can warm up again back at the hotel. Sounds like a plan?”
Draco gave a short jerk of his head in assent, and Weasley grinned and rubbed his hands together.
Draco shuddered.
He could do it, Draco told himself. Just… take a look in the chocolate shop with the two Gryffindors, and catalogue what he found. Then hopefully they could get the fuck out of there sooner rather than later.
Potter and Weasley made their way down the hill, and Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and followed. He hunched his shoulders against the cold as he strode down the slope after them.
Inside, the chocolate shop was bustling with activity. Draco couldn’t help his curiosity as he looked around; there were brightly coloured boxes stacked all over the place, clusters of Rocky-Road grouped in enticing sets around the store, cascades of rich purple drapes framing the windows, marbled strawberry chocolate cakes in the display case, bouquets of chocolates cast into roses—a mix of white, dark, ruby, and milk chocolate—and an actual chocolate waterfall in the corner. There were platters of festive gingerbread, and clusters of chocolate lava cakes. Draco blushed as he caught sight of a tray of Nipples of Venus, and he hurriedly cleared his throat and joined the others.
Where were they going to start?!
Luckily, Weasley decided for them.
“Choco-cauldrons!” Weasley exclaimed in delight, making a beeline for the cluster of miniature chocolate cauldrons stacked together, with delicate fillings of strawberry, pineapple, orange and lime, nearly full to the brim. “I’ve heard about those—Ginny and George say they’re fantastic…”
“Weasley, this isn’t a—what are you doing?!” Draco hissed, watching Weasley stack little cauldrons in a fancy box, using miniature tongs to select them.
“Collecting evidence,” Weasley said without missing a beat. “D’you think the lime ones are the poisoned ones? Better get some of them.”
Draco could only watch as Weasley started collecting a second box of treats, his blue eyes sparkling with glee.
“Honestly, Weasley—” Draco started.
“Look, Malfoy!” Weasley exclaimed, gesturing for Draco to come closer. “Matcha and white chocolate fudge! Salted caramel slice! Espresso brownie bites! Hey, Harry would like some of them…” Weasley motioned for Potter to join them, calling out, "Harry!”
“What’ve you found, Ron?” Potter asked, moving purposely through the other shoppers til he joined Weasley and Draco, their shoulders in a tight circle.
“Espresso chocolate brownies,” Weasley responded, with all the seriousness of an Auror reporting an essential piece of news from a stakeout. “Thought I’d better get a sample. You can never be too careful.”
“Good thinking,” Potter nodded. “Anything else look suspicious? The Choco-cauldrons?”
“Got them already.”
“For Salazar’s sake.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “Will you two please focus?”
Potter and Weasley both looked at him, and Draco was trapped by two very intense pairs of eyes. Fuck.
“Better get him some Pepper Imps,” Potter said to Weasley. “That’ll help him mellow out.”
Draco managed to throw Potter a haughty look before he spun around and strode away from them, even though his ears were burning.
Fuck. He loved Pepper Imps. But he could not let Potter know that. Urrgh.
But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t there to have a nice time browsing in a shop; he was on a mission, and he had to stay focused—especially if his two idiot partners were too easily distractible.
But even though they carefully looked over every corner of the shop—nothing looked suspicious.
And Weasley made sure they spent a lot of time there.
He asked the shop staff all sorts of questions.
How long have you been here?
What’s your most popular sweet?
What’s the oddest order for a sweet that you received?
Where do you source your ingredients?
What do you do if a customer has an allergy? Have you had any customers complain about allergies or reactions to your sweets?
Are your recipes all from the family, or do you have outside staff who help you?
Is there any competition, or does your shop’s amazing flavour reputation speak for itself?
Okay. Those were reasonable questions. Good questions, even.
But then the questions seemed less and less related to the investigation.
Is that a real chocolate waterfall in the corner?
Do you take requests for sweets?
What’s the secret recipe for your Choco-cauldrons and its follow-up question: Come on, is it really a secret?!
If customers buy in bulk, is there a discount?
Do you ship to Ottery St Catchpole, Devon?
Draco wanted to smack him.
“Weasley!” he finally hissed, while the poor shop assistant was checking the owl weight restrictions on delivery orders. “How is this at all relevant?”
Weasley narrowed his own eyebrows. “What’s your problem, Malfoy? I’m just being thorough.”
Draco couldn’t help the choked gasp he let out. “Thorough? On how to finally be a date for the guardian of your precious Gryffindor Tower?!”
Weasley just smirked. “Oh, you’re worried about me? How sweet. But don’t worry—I make sure to keep myself very fit.”
Urrgh.
Infuriating.
Draco sent him a withering glare. “Oh, I wasn’t at all worried. I just wondered when we could return to some actual Auror work—if you can do any, that is.”
“Hey!” Potter’s voice cut in excitedly. “Did you see these owl delivery routes? Apparently, they don’t fly directly to Devon. They stop in Wiltshire first. There are so many chocolate orders, they give the owls a chance to rest and recover. So it’s very likely that the owl couldn’t have delivered chocolate to the victim in Cornwall the same day the order was dispatched; that’s even further away.”
Darn. Weasley’s mind-boggling, selfish questions were helping the investigation after all!
Draco couldn’t bear to look at Weasley’s smug grin as he raised his voice loudly and exclaimed, “Really, Harry? Wow, I’m glad someone thought to ask about owl order deliveries!”
Okay, forget smacking him.
Draco was going to kill him.
Although he couldn’t really do that in a room full of witnesses.
Fuck, why was Draco’s life so hard?!?
But before he had to work out how to commit murder in front of Potter in the chocolate shop, Weasley let out a huge gasp.
“Look,” he said reverently, motioning towards a gingerbread castle. “How much effort do you think that would have taken? How could this shop be involved in anything nefarious with work like that?”
And, okay, Draco conceded, drawing closer with Weasley to look at the magnificent building. It showed a Gothic castle, complete with delicate panes of sugared stained-glass windows, and moats, bridges, and ornate sugar work—definitely created by someone with an artistic eye. But they couldn’t let themselves get distracted!
“Would you stop thinking with your stomach?” Draco snapped. “You have a brain for a reason, for Merlin’s sake. For all we know, the poisoner does own this chocolate shop, but they can do more than one thing at once—as foreign a concept as that is for you.”
Potter actually let out a snort at that, and Weasley flushed in outrage.
“He’s not wrong,” Potter grinned. “You’re the worst out of your whole family. But anyway,” Potter continued, raising his voice over Weasley’s stuttered protests. “He shouldn’t deliberately needle you. Teamwork, remember, Malfoy?”
Draco crossed his arms. “I remember, Potter. Fine. Anything else we need to check here before our next stop?”
Potter stopped, looking pensive. “It would be ideal to get into the back rooms, to check if they have any dangerous—or illegal—ingredients. I’m not sure if they’d be idiotic enough to keep anything like that on-site, but it’s best to be thorough.”
Hmmm. Maybe Potter did have an occasional good idea, after all.
“Alright,” Draco said. “Let’s see if there’s a way in from outside, and we’ll take it from there.”
Weasley spoke up quickly. “I’ll meet you there. I just need to, er… finish the collection aspect of our investigation.”
Then, as Draco watched, Weasley picked up four—four!—boxes of sweets and hurried to the front.
And, on the way, he snatched up a packet of Pepper Imps.
Draco tried to keep a furious expression on his face, but by Potter’s amused smile, Draco worried that he had failed terribly at it.
“Fuck, Weasley, what the hell?” Draco exclaimed furiously as he burst out the door and hurriedly slammed it shut, shooting a half-dozen locking charms on it for good measure.
“Why are you blaming me?” Weasley said incredulously, and not doing anything to help reinforce the door.
Luckily Potter intervened before Draco tried to summon the energy to lunge at him.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Potter said, laying a hand on Draco’s arm. “Ron didn’t know there were security charms on the chocolate vats. Even though,” Potter continued, shooting a look at his best friend, “he should have remembered he was at a suspected crime scene.”
Draco shook off Potter’s hand. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to try to see if I can get singe marks off my coat.”
He shot a filthy look at Weasley, who mouthed, “Sorry?” at Potter.
Potter cleared his throat. “Ron, why don’t you send those samples to the laboratory while I try to help Malfoy. I think the post office has a fireplace you can use to Floo the laboratory.”
“I—I’ll do that. And… sorry, Malfoy. Really.”
Draco looked up into earnest blue eyes. “Fine,” he said with a huff. “Just stop being idiotic.”
Weasley bit his lip, then nodded. “Er, okay.”
Urrgh.
It was so much harder to hate him when he was being a decent person!
They were all exhausted from visiting the chocolate shop—and Weasley from trekking to the post office—when they finally got back.
It had been snowing harder and harder outside, and Draco’d had to loop his scarf around his neck, burrowing his nose into the plush material. He took his time to hang his coat up by the door—like a proper gentleman, whereas Potter and Weasley just dropped clothes on the floor like barbarians—and unlaced his boots, kneeling on the polished wood floor.
Potter got the fire roaring with a flick of his wand, and Draco let his shoulders drop down from his ears, letting out a pleased sigh. He’d just paired up his boots, his toes hidden in his silver snowflake socks, when he stood and caught sight of the way his hair was sticking up. Urrgh. He tried to flatten it back down, but only half succeeded.
“I might…” Weasley gestured vaguely to the fire, the flames flickering elegantly against pale skin, “Floo-call the lab; check how they’re going with the samples.”
Draco held back a snort. Check whether he could eat any yet, more likely.
“I’m still cold,” Potter added. “Might see if housekeeping has anything else to keep warm—some extra blankets, maybe.”
Draco nodded. “Well, I’m going to, ah, attend to some personal matters” read: dash into the bathroom to apply Sleakeazy’s as fast as possible “but after that I’ll see if I can find the ordering menu for something to eat and drink.”
Fortunately, Potter and Weasley nodded, and Draco made his way to the bathroom, applying his hair potions and emerging with soft, silky locks once more.
When he got back to the main room, Weasley wasn’t there, but there were three mugs with the delicious scent of coffee rising from them on the kitchenette counter.
Hmmm, Draco thought to himself, feeling oddly thankful to Potter. That was an excellent idea to warm up and stop feeling so exhausted from their trek all over town.
Draco had just managed to find the room service menu and was perusing the options—could he put down a Merlot as a work expense? Hmm, if one had to count working with Weasel and Potty, it might just be claimable—when the door opened, and Potter and Weasley entered together, a huge stack of blankets bundled in their arms.
They were talking and laughing together as they dropped the blankets on the bed, then they each came to stand on either side of Draco to look at the menu.
Draco hastily took a sip of coffee, trying to ignore the woodsy-amber scent of Weasley and pepper-and-pine of Potter’s cologne.
Though it was very hard when they were both leaning into him like that!
Draco just took a deeper sip, wishing he could dive into the toasty, warm drink.
Mmm. Potter usually got straight coffee, but this was deliciously rich and creamy… a mocha, maybe? A good choice, not that Draco had to tell him that.
The three of them decided to order a stack of sandwiches, which arrived quickly enough and let them have a quick bite to eat before some more strategising.
“So,” Weasley said, stuffing the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. “The lab’s still running tests on the samples I sent, but they advised there have been no further reported poisoning cases. As it stands, Robard’s son is the only victim—and Aurors are stationed around Robard’s daughter—not that she’s very happy about it.”
“Well, we’ll all be happier once the culprit is in lockup,” Potter said, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. “What about St Mungo’s? Any news on Robard’s son?”
“He’s still getting new purple spots, but his fever has gone down, and he’s breathing on his own.”
“Any more word on the type of poison?” Draco asked, his mind churning furiously. “Salamander, Manticore, Acromantula?”
“Not so far,” Weasley replied. “They think they’ve narrowed it down to an amphibian, though. But still working on it.”
Hmmm…
They discussed a couple of potential perpetrators—Rosier’s son, who was vengeful after the war? The Creevey’s dad, still angry about his son’s death at Hogwarts? Bertie Higgs, Scrimgeour’s old friend who might be jealous of Robard’s appointment to Head Auror?
By the time they were yawning and pushing their plates away, it was getting late.
They got ready for bed and slipped under the covers, Weasley in the middle, then Draco and Potter climbing in on either side.
“Neither of you had better snore,” Draco couldn’t help sniping, before Weasley let out a laugh and relaxed back against the headboard, auburn locks glinting in the low light.
“You worried about me disturbing your beauty sleep?”
His eyes ran down Draco’s body suggestively, and Draco glared at him.
“Careful, Weasley, or I’ll tell Granger that she has something to worry about,” Draco snapped, yanking the covers. Hard. He flumped down on the bed, shooting Weasley and Potter a dangerous look. “And don’t you dare hog the blankets. Just go cuddle with Potter if you get cold, or else you won’t survive the night.”
Draco curled up on his side, his back to the two Gryffindors, listening as Potter whispered a quiet Nox, and Weasley shifted in the bed next to him.
They had better keep to their sides.
That was all Draco was saying.
He could not be held responsible for hexing them in his sleep.
Although that would make a delightful cover story…
Draco let out a huff into his scratchy pillow, trying to let his breathing relax.
Just get through it, he told himself. It would be over soon, and he could get back to ignoring Potter and Weasley as usual…
When Draco woke up, he was delightfully warm and cosy. He let out a contented hum as he nuzzled deeper into his pillow, which was much softer than before. He stretched his leg out to curl over one of the folds in the blankets. Lovely. It had been so long since he’d had a refreshing sleep, and been so comfortable…
He let out a sigh of pleasure, and the blankets pulled even more securely around his waist.
Mmm… Perfect.
But wait… his pillow didn’t usually move… or have an amber and woodsy scent…
With growing horror, Draco scrambled to sit up, breathing hard at the sight before him.
Weasley was lying down, his arm thrown above his head and his t-shirt askew on his chest, from where Draco had very obviously just been snuggling into him.
Their legs were still intertwined, and Draco hurriedly tried to untangle himself, only for Weasley to let out a groan and slide an arm around Draco’s waist, pulling him back down.
And Draco’s body was betraying him, his leg already slipping between Weasley’s, as he lay against Weasley once more, their bodies flush together, his heart pounding, and Weasley’s intoxicating scent filling his nose.
Fuck. FUCK.
Why was he cuddling with Weasley?
And why was he liking it?
And now, Draco’s fingers couldn’t help trailing over Weasley’s chest, his palm splayed over the warm thud of Weasley’s heart.
What was he doing??
Then there was a groan from next to Weasley, and to Draco’s utter shock, Potter’s hand slid over his, his fingers threading through Draco’s. Potter was lying on Weasley’s other shoulder, his green eyes fluttering open.
Oh, fuck.
“It—it’s not…”
Draco couldn’t even finish the words.
It was exactly what it looked like.
“Malfoy?” Potter asked sleepily, and his voice was rough, giving Draco a shivery feeling as he gazed at those entrancing green eyes.
“ ’samatta?” Weasley grumbled, and Draco instinctively gripped him tighter, his fingers grazing Potter’s.
Potter smirked, and Draco shot him a death glare.
But he couldn’t let go of Potter’s hand.
“Okay—enough,” Draco spat, as angrily as he could while still clutching Weasley like a koala. “This is hilarious, but I think we’ve all had enough.”
“Then let go,” Weasley said—though his arm just tightened around Draco’s waist.
Draco bit back a groan as he found himself nuzzling even closer. His heart was pounding lazily, telling him he was safe, and warm, and that he absolutely did not want to stop cuddling. And even that he wouldn’t mind diving right in between Potter and Weasley and feeling their arms wrap around him…
An alarm screeched in Draco’s brain.
“Fuck. We’ve been cursed,” Draco managed to splutter, hiding his face against Weasley’s collarbone.
And from the silence from Potter and Weasley, they obviously agreed.
Unfortunately, the next step was to call in St Mungo’s.
They managed to extricate themselves from the bed, flushing and not looking at each other, and held a harried Floo-call with St Mungo’s curse-breaker experts, before stepping one by one through the Floo.
They were put into different rooms, with a litany of spells cast, until finally, after five hours and being made to drink a disgusting bright-yellow potion, they were summoned into the curse-breaker’s office. Draco no longer felt the irresistible urge to get close to his Auror partners, but he flushed as he remembered how they’d woken in the morning in a comfortable huddle of limbs.
He steadfastly refused to look at either of them.
And then the verdict came.
Sex pollen.
Or, a sex pollen derivative.
“Something to, ah, distract you from your investigation, no doubt,” Healer Douglas continued, and Draco couldn’t stop the flush that spread over his skin.
Weasley coughed, and Draco nearly glared at him. But he would have to look him in the eye for that. And he just couldn’t do that, at the moment.
“How long until it wears off?” Potter asked.
Okay, so Potter was being level-headed. That was good. Excellent.
Because Draco’s brain wasn’t quite working.
Sex pollen. Potter. And Weasley.
Oh, dear Merlin.
How did this happen to him?
Healer Douglas rifled through the file again. “Hmm… well, we gave you all a potion to mitigate the effects. But I’m afraid it will still require intimacy for at least one hour every evening until it wears off—not for too long,” she added quickly. “We’re still working on what exactly the ingredient was, to get more information to make an antidote. But you’ll be able to keep working in the meantime, and you can, er, fulfil the requirements privately…”
Healer Douglas was now nearly as red as Weasley’s hair.
Draco glared at her, and she hurriedly took a sip of water. Then she nodded and lifted her hand to gesture at the door in a clear dismissal.
“Okay.”
Draco paced up and down their tiny room again, back in Ashford, and furiously ignoring the way Weasley and Potter glanced at each other.
“So the solution is simple,” Draco continued, crossing his arms. “We just have to… solve the case. Then we can figure out who the fuck cursed us, and get them to reverse it.”
“Malfoy…”
“And then,” Draco went on, “we never talk about this again.”
He looked severely at Potter and Weasley, who didn’t seem to grasp the urgency of the situation.
Weasley glanced at Potter, before turning back to Draco. “Listen, Malfoy, you don’t have to worry, we won’t tell anyone that you secretly love a little cosy snuggle.”
“I –! ”
Deep breaths, Draco.
“I fucking do not,” Draco said. “You’re the one like an octopus in bed.”
And he was, with those long arms and legs, pulling me close…
Focus, Draco!
“Anyway,” Draco turned again, enlarging their map of Ashford. “Sex-pollen, according to the Healers.”
Draco’s cheeks grew even hotter.
And it wasn’t helped by the way Potter’s eyebrows rose.
“I think,” Draco continued, “that we’d best check out the flower shop. That’s the most likely place to poison us with… with pollen. Do you agree?”
Potter nodded slowly, and Weasley, who was lounging languidly in his armchair, also tilted his head in agreement.
“Perfect,” Draco said in a clipped voice. “So let’s get onto this, and see if we can solve this little… problem, without any further issues.”
“Perfect,” Weasley answered. “And you’ll tell us if you’re getting too… cold again, right?”
Draco scowled and stormed off. Again.
The owner of La Fleur de mon cœur ended up being an elderly man, who had set up the business in honour of his wife.
When Draco, Potter, and Weasley arrived, the man insisted on showing them around the whole estate, saying that he ‘loved having visitors’ and ‘had just had a lovely growth of his petunias, which were growing well despite the winter’.
Aside from some de-frosting charms on the fields, Draco could find no evidence of any other spellwork.
There weren’t even any actively blossoming flowers!
Draco had to admit that they were probably looking for the wrong Demiguise.
They inspected what must have been every inch of the property, including a slog around the fields where they saw hundreds of delicate green stems floating in the breeze; Draco, Potter and Weasley whispering to themselves that they had seen no possible signs of Dark magic.
“My angels,” their host said happily, crouching down to gently stroke the bright, budding leaf of a young rose.
Draco, Potter, and Weasley shared a look.
This did not seem like the killer attacking Ministry family members in London.
Still, you could never be too sure, Draco thought to himself.
For all he knew, this man had lost his lovely wife in the war.
But when Weasley, as agreed before their arrival, asked for flower cuttings for his own garden, “My mother loves roses, do you think I could perhaps have a seedling or early bloom?”, the man beamed.
“Oh, of course, of course! Fellow flower aficionados, we have to stick together!”
He took a cutting of precisely the plant that Weasley pointed out, no hesitation at all.
And then he turned to Draco and Potter. “Any flowers that you are particularly fond of?” he asked, sheltering his eyes with his hand as he looked out over his vast fields.
Potter requested lilies, and Draco ended up mumbling about narcissus.
All three of them left with cuttings, which they delivered to the post office to be sent directly to the lab.
“Well, either Dark wizards are all secretly horticulturalists, or he’s just a nice bloke wanting company,” Weasley said brightly. “Tell you what, if he turns out to be decent, maybe I’ll tell Mum about him, she’s been looking for someone to help with her garden…”
After visiting the flower shop, they decided to check their third suspect—a winery.
“Gusbourne Estate,” Draco noted, once they had arrived at the magnificent vineyards. “Well, you can’t deny Rupert’s got taste.”
The three of them started walking down, snow crunching under their boots.
“So, are you familiar with these wines?” Potter asked Draco.
“Well, my parents are the better connoisseurs than me—but I have had some delicious bottles from here,” Draco admitted.
“Maybe we should get some samples from here, too,” Weasley added.
Of course.
But actually, not a bad idea…
The owners of Gusbourne Estate were not as welcoming as their last host.
But, Draco supposed, it was fair that they were being wary of the competition.
“I’m sorry…” a young lady said, her glasses glinting as she looked down at her clipboard again from her post by the imposing winery doors. “Where did you say you were visiting from again, without a reservation?”
Her delicate eyebrows narrowed ever so slightly, and she brushed back one of the straight blonde locks framing her face before looking up again at them suspiciously.
“Islington,” Potter said after a nervous beat. “And this was actually a surprise visit. My friend… Daniel…” Potter broke off to look at Draco, “just… got engaged.”
What?!?
Draco turned to furiously glare at him, but then Weasley spoke up.
“Yeah,” Weasley added, grinning charmingly at the lady. “He wasn’t sure that he’d get a ‘yes’. I told him, of course,” Weasley broke off to sling his arm around Draco’s shoulder and pull him into a side hug, “that he’s a Keeper. But he was still worried.”
“Oh!” the lady actually grinned at them now, folding her clipboard in her arms. “Well congratulations, Daniel. That’s so exciting!”
“Uhm, thank you.”
Potter actually winked at the lady. Saucily. How did he do that when he was usually so incomprehensibly gawky?
“And we, as his best men, wanted to take him out to celebrate. His fiancée, you know, is already calling up all her friends and getting them to pore over wedding catalogues. But we wanted Daniel to have a little celebration too, before he and his fiancée reconvene again tonight.”
Weasley pulled Draco in even closer, which, fuck, made Draco’s stomach flutter.
“So,” Weasley said winningly. “Do you think you can make an exception?”
Draco, Potter and Weasley looked at the girl earnestly, and she looked back quickly over her shoulder before turning back to them.
“Okay,” she said, lifting her glasses back into position. “You’re part of the O’Mallery group, if anyone asks. Welcome to Gusbourne Estate. Come over to the register so I can add you to the list.”
Hardly believing their luck, Draco, Weasley and Potter grinned at each other and hastened to follow her inside.
As they did, Weasley dropped his arm from Draco’s shoulders, and Draco told himself he did not miss the gesture.
He straightened his coat, mentally telling himself to get over the comforting feel of Weasley’s arm around body.
Weasley would be insufferable if he found out…
Draco lingered by the wall while Potter and Weasley sorted out the entrance fee and signed the three of them up for a tour. He told himself to focus on the case and started surreptitiously casting spells to assess for residual Dark magic and any hidden compartments.
But by the time Weasley and Potter rejoined him, Draco just shook his head, having found no evidence of Dark activity at all.
“We’ll just press on with the tour, then,” Potter said, his green eyes intent.
“Sounds good to me,” Weasley replied, crossing his arms.
Draco hated that his eyes darted to Weasley’s biceps. Urrrgh.
“And it comes with a tasting, right?” Weasley continued, his shoulders still unfairly outlined in his fitted jumper.
“Yes, not that we’re going to be sampling anything while on duty, of course,” Potter said, nudging Weasley with his elbow.
Weasley darkened, a grin spreading on his face. “Ah, right. Of course. Well, more for later, I suppose. Luckily, I can cast a duplicate charm and siphon away some samples for, uh, later. And the laboratory.”
Just then, a man strode out from a set of doors, interrupting the mingling groups in the entrance hall.
“Hello, everyone! Welcome to Gusbourne Estate. I’ll be showing you around this evening, and then we’ll all have ourselves a merry little wine tasting! Who’s with me? Who’s excited?”
Draco found himself cheering along with the other guests, then he noticed Potter and Weasley both looking at him.
“What?” he asked, pausing the clapping of his hands.
Potter and Weasley just exchanged a look.
“Uh, nothing…” Potter said unconvincingly, while Weasley hurriedly looked away, his face still a bit pink.
Then, luckily, their tour guide beckoned everyone forward, and Draco was saved from replying.
They had an hour-long tour of the estate, learning about the history of the winery, the different types of wine it produced, the awards they had won, and the use of their wines in ceremonial events.
But unfortunately, as the tour progressed, something was happening to Draco.
Maybe it was the memory of Weasley’s arm clasped around him, or maybe it was the aromats in the air.
But Draco could not stop thinking of how he’d woken up in Weasley’s embrace.
He’d remember feeling so safe and secure, and the way Weasley’s arm had tightened around him—even the way Weasley’s chest had risen and fallen under his palm, his heart thudding away reassuringly.
And then he kept remembering how Potter had reached across, tangling their fingers together.
He shot Potter a look, to find Potter already looking at him.
Oh, fuck.
Draco clenched his fingers together, trying to focus on their guide.
But it wasn’t easy, when every accidental brush of Potter or Weasley’s arm made him tremble, or every murmured word that left one of the Gryffindors’ lips made Draco yearn to lean in closer and closer, tilting his head just right for their lips to brush his ear.
By the time they’d reached the tasting room, Draco was a mess.
He’d run his hand through his hair so many times, the strands were haphazardly framing his face, and he slumped on the table, his head hanging forward, forearms braced against the wood.
“Hey, Malfoy… you okay?” Potter’s voice came from behind him, along with a reassuring stroking along his back.
Arrrrgh!
Draco had to resist the urge to just melt under Potter’s hand, which felt so damn good.
“Fine, Potter,” Draco managed through gritted teeth.
He focused on the grain pattern in the wood.
Potter’s hand found the hollow between his shoulders, and Draco choked back a gasp.
“You sure?” Potter whispered. “You look a bit… tense again. Which—can’t be good.”
“As I said,” Draco said delicately, “I am fine. Perfect, even.”
Oh, fuck, he was not. He kept remembering fingers threading through his, and a lazy grin…
Draco stood up, knocking Potter’s hand away. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, before he strode quickly from the room.
But he wasn’t even able to regroup before the door opened, and not just Potter, but also Weasley joined him outside.
They hurried over, and before Draco knew what was happening, they had each joined hands and then reached for him.
Draco let out a massive breath as the surge of longing retreated, before he glared furiously at them.
“You… what are you doing?”
Though, he couldn’t quite bear to let go of their hands yet.
“It’s the curse,” Potter said easily, stroking his thumb along Draco’s. “I started feeling the effects twenty minutes ago.”
Of fucking course.
“I didn’t feel it as much,” Weasley mused, “but then I was in the middle last time. So it must be taking longer to reactivate, because I already had dual contact.”
“So what now, we blow our cover by standing here holding hands?” Draco sighed.
Potter and Weasley shared a look.
“Or,” Potter said, a grin growing on his face. “We go back inside and hold hands secretly, or some other form of close body contact, and collect the samples, and see if that is enough to satisfy the curse.”
Weasley was already nodding, and Draco swallowed.
Right.
Holding hands with Gryffindors under the table. Like some lovesick schoolboy.
Well, this was only temporary, and if it would satisfy the curse…
It did not satisfy the curse.
Draco sat, his fingers tangled with Potter under the table, and Weasley’s arm clasped around him on his other side.
And yes, it did help, so he could at least focus on the wine tasting and listening out for any more facts about the vineyard.
But while Potter siphoned away samples of wine, and Weasley helped Draco pepper the guide with lots of questions, by the end of the session, Draco still kept feeling that need—to snuggle again against Weasley’s shoulder, or lean in close to Potter, wrapping an arm around his waist.
By the time they left the winery, Draco’s head was spinning. But he managed to motion to the Apparition point and walk over, shoulders hunched, Potter and Weasley following along behind him.
They dropped into the post office again (Weasley’s shoulders looking unfairly broad as he delicately fastened the parcel to an owl’s leg), then grabbed some basil, cherry tomato and mozzarella pizza slices that they ate on the way back.
But once they were back in their hotel room, the urge grew again. Draco darted into the bathroom to change into his pyjamas while Potter and Weasley laughed together and got ready. When Draco got back, hurrying over to hang up his clothes while Potter and Weasley chatted in bed, his eyes kept shifting to the bed and his body was prickling with warm and cold shivers.
Finally, Potter let out a huff of exasperation while lying back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Malfoy, just… get over here and cuddle, alright?”
“Yeah,” Weasley added, from Potter’s side. “We miss you.”
Draco glared at both of them.
But even though Weasley and Potter were grinning, they were watching him intently, and Draco felt a pull to them. Weasley had turned to fully face him, and Potter’s hand dropped from on top of his chest to beside his thigh, where there was a space… A space for Draco.
Draco told himself as he stalked to the bed that they needed him. Obviously. It wasn’t for him that he was caving in!
“One hour,” Draco hissed, looking each of them in the eye.
They both nodded, and Draco climbed on the bed.
Refusing to even look at Potter, Draco lay down, resting his head on Potter, and stretched his arm around Potter’s waist.
The relief was instantaneous.
A pleased sigh actually left Draco’s lips as he cosied up even closer, and Weasley reached out to trail his fingers down Draco’s forearm, causing him to shiver.
He looked up quickly, eyes meeting bright azure blue, and yet Weasley didn’t remove his hand, continuing to trace delicate patterns on Draco’s arm.
Draco let his eyes flutter closed; Weasley’s feather-light touch soothing, and Potter’s arm draping over his shoulders.
Just an hour…
One measly hour…
Draco woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, screwing his eyes and blinking against the harsh rays.
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered as he closed his eyes again, burrowing his head into his lovely pillow. “Cast a bloody Nox, would you?”
“Er… ”
Potter’s voice came from very close.
Far too close.
Fuck.
Draco sat up, knocking Potter’s arm off him.
He gawked as he looked down at Weasley and Potter, who were blinking up at him, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed.
“Oops. S’pose I forgot to set an alarm,” Weasley said, looking at him sheepishly.
Draco shook his head. Oops? OOPS?!
“We were only supposed to cuddle for an hour!” Draco exclaimed, to be met by giggling from his Auror colleagues. “Shut up,” Draco snapped, flinging back the covers and climbing out hurriedly. “Does your incompetence know no bounds?!”
“I’m so sorry, m’Lord,” Potter said, though his eyes were still outrageously amused.
“Yes, I’ll note that down at once,” Weasley added. “Complaints against Potter and Weasley: Let me sleep in. Gave excellent cuddles. Handsome and clever.”
Draco shot him a death glare.
But Potter just cleared his throat before looking at each of them. “Well, am I the only one who wants to solve the case? Or do you two want to stand here sniping at each other like an old married couple?”
“We are NOT—!” Draco hurriedly exclaimed.
“—don’t you dare—” Weasley added.
“Get up then, come on, maybe today will be the day we solve the case!” Potter said before he slunk over the sheets on all fours to the edge of the bed.
Draco turned away hurriedly before his eyes could linger on Potter’s arms.
Yes.
Right.
The case.
Draco quickly got ready and headed downstairs, deciding to wait in the lobby.
Fuck, the sooner they solved this case, the better…
“Okay,” Weasley said, as they strolled around the town, keeping their eyes out for anything that looked out of place. “What do we know?”
“The magical trace of the poison originated here,” Potter answered at once. “We’re looking for a wix, someone ruthless but not idiotic enough to directly attack three investigating Aurors and risk bringing down the full force of the DMLE.”
Draco nodded. “Someone who has been planning. Someone who can cover their tracks.”
Potter spoke up again next. “None of the samples have shown any trace of suspicious magic from any of our target locations.”
Draco tilted his head thoughtfully. “The person knew how to get into Rupert’s home. So they must have some ties to London as well.”
“And,” Weasley mused, “the lab narrowed down the poison to being from a particular kind of dart-frog, one with neon-green markings—Ameerega trivittata.”
“Oh?” Potter asked curiously. “What’s that frog like? … I’m better with snakes—had a great time at the reptile park once, hahaha—but that doesn’t sound like a creature local to the area.”
Weasley paused to take out a sheet of parchment from his pocket. “Yeah, it’s from South America. Here—I have a picture.”
The three of them crowded around the picture, taking in the image of the frog with stark green markings lighting up its sides.
“Hey…” Draco said slowly, squinting at the acidic green lines. “Isn’t that—”
“It’s the same,” Weasley said, nodding quickly. “That’s the exact colour we saw—of the lime-filled Choco-cauldrons in the chocolate shop.”
The three of them shared a glance. Then Potter grinned.
“I bet it is that shop! We got chased out before we could fully investigate, remember?”
“And,” Draco added, his heart beating faster, “we were cursed before we visited any other suspects!”
Weasley held up his hand quickly. “But wait. How did they curse us? Malfoy… well, your coat was singed. Sorry,” he said, shooting Draco an apologetic look. “But Harry and I also got affected somehow…”
The three of them paused, thinking back.
“Did you eat any of the samples?” Draco asked Weasley suspiciously.
“No!” Weasley exclaimed.
“What about the chocolate waterfall?” Potter asked.
“I followed protocol, okay?” Weasley groaned. “I didn’t do anything out of order, I swear. But look—let’s go to see Robards and check more facts in the Ministry records. We have a suspect, and Robards is keen for any news on the case…”
When Draco, Potter and Weasley arrived in Robards’ office, the Head of the Auror Department looked up at them excitedly.
“Well? What’s the news?”
They slipped into the seats in front of his desk, and then Draco nodded for Weasley to start.
“We investigated a number of suspects in Ashford,” Weasley said. “But our hunch is that it’s someone at a chocolate shop, Chocolat Rémy Renaud. It’s cosy, has a stellar reputation, and is bustling with activity. But when we got back to the Ministry, we pulled some records and discovered that the owner’s wife is one of the Carrows. Changed her name through marriage.”
“Ah,” Robards clasped his hands together. “Do go on.”
“We think the shop—which extracts proteins from a particular dart frog for its sweets—used the poison from one of their creatures,” Draco said.
“And we think the suspect knew their gift wouldn’t arrive the same day,” Weasley added. “Giving time to establish an alibi by the time Rupert fell sick.”
“Well, well, well,” Robards said, leaning back in his chair and surveying them with interest. “Excellent work, Aurors Potter, Weasley and Malfoy. I knew that you could do it.”
And then they were called into a briefing room, where Robards headed up an Auror force tasked with raiding the shop. The three of them stayed for hours, answered question after question, providing information on the location, blueprints, exposure to Muggles, and even weather conditions, for the Hit Wizards to be as well prepared as possible.
Draco had just said good-bye to Potter and Weasley, and was just congratulating himself on a job well done—and telling himself he deserved a nice bottle of Merlot—when he became very lightheaded right in the DMLE corridor.
Fuck, not now! Draco thought to himself, looking at his watch in horror and realising that although the case was a long way towards being solved, the curse on the three Aurors had in no way been lifted!
Draco seriously considered keeling over right there in the corridor, rather than going to Potter and Weasley.
But every step he forced himself to take further away drove a shiver down his spine. Until he finally wheeled around in the corridor and headed not for the Floo, but for the Ministry’s exit to Muggle London.
He Apparated to Potter’s residence, Grimmauld Place—hmmm, still just as depressing as in his childhood—and rang the doorbell with a lazy press.
While he waited, Draco’s stomach flipped with a mix of nerves and anticipation. What would it be like, cuddling again?
After a heart-pounding ten seconds, the locks clicked, and the door opened.
“Oh!” Potter exclaimed. “Malfoy—you’re here!”
Draco gave his best scathing look. “Brilliant deduction, Potter. I can see why you made the Aurors.”
“And you’re here insulting me, why?”
Draco crossed his arms angrily. “You know why, alright?” he said quietly, nudging the welcome mat with his toe.
And then Potter was looking at him appraisingly, a smirk growing on his lips. “Aww. You did miss us.”
“Missed your arms, more like,” Draco shot back. Then he realised what he’d said. “I mean—that’s not what I—”
“It’s alright, Malfoy,” Potter said, grabbing Draco’s arm. “Come on, already.”
Then he was towing Draco inside, and Draco just had time to give a worried glance back at the door closing behind him.
“Just one,” Draco said, holding up his finger, and looking at Potter and Weasley, who were next to him on the couch. “One hour.”
“I heard you the first five times,” Potter said in a bored voice.
“And when we’re done, I’m leaving.”
“Fine,” Weasley replied.
“I am not staying here overnight.”
“Okay,” Potter agreed, a smirk on his lips.
“Fine,” Draco said, before closing his eyes and counting to ten.
He could do this.
Never mind that he was actually in Potter’s home this time—looking at Potter’s leather jacket slung over a chair, or Potter’s Firebolt in the corner, or Potter’s desk full of adorable crayoned drawings from Teddy.
Draco settled in against Potter’s side, Weasley already lying down with his head on Potter’s thigh. Then Potter’s arm wrapped around him, and Draco couldn’t help the comforting warmth that swept over him.
“One hour, Potter,” Draco warned again, hooking his own arm around Potter’s waist.
Then he let out a deep breath.
“Malfoy... hey, Malfoy!”
“Hmmm?”
Draco blinked himself awake.
There were bright blue eyes watching him, and Draco cleared his throat. “Uh, hi?”
“It’s, uh, finished. The cuddling. Requirement.”
“Oh, excellent,” Draco said, sitting up and using the hand that had been wrapped around Potter to tuck back his hair. “I uh, I s’pose I’ll be going then. How long has it been?”
“Uh... overnight.”
“What?!” Draco jumped up, eyes narrowing at Potter and Weasley, who were still sitting cosily on the couch, even while the scent of eggs and tea drifted in from the kitchen.
“You just looked so peaceful,” Weasley said hurriedly.
“As a dove,” Potter interjected.
“And you weren’t snarling,” Weasley added.
“Yes, and you looked so tired working the case,” Potter said, tilting his head. “We thought we’d let you sleep. And besides, Kreacher would have killed us for disturbing ‘the slumber of one of the Masters of the House of Black’.”
Draco’s cheeks felt hot. “You... you... urgh!!”
“So do you want to stay for breakfast?” Weasley said, giving a hopeful look to the next room, where delicious scents continued to waft from. “Kreacher’s outdone himself.”
Draco clasped a hand over his face and let out a sigh. “I will have some tea and toast to make up for the inconvenience, then I will leave.”
“Kreacher will be so excited,” Potter said, standing up at once. “I’ll go tell him. Excellent!”
Draco’s voice trailed off, “Excellent...?”
Weasley stood and clasped him on the arm. “I’d go for the French toast. Just saying.”
And then he winked at Draco, before moving to the kitchen.
And with a sigh, Draco followed them.
Back at the DMLE, Draco, Potter and Weasley discovered that Chocolat Rémy Renaud’s had been raided, with the arrest of the chocolate shop owner and his wife. A whole slew of poisons had been found, along with magical headshots of DMLE and Wizengamot members’ families, and Draco suppressed a shudder as he thought about how wrong this all could have gone.
They also found out from Robards what had happened to them—from the tests being run, there was a derivative of sex pollen found in traces of chocolate-coffee metabolite. Not enough to cause frenzied, lustful thoughts. But enough to reduce inhibitions and spur the person to desire intimacy. Draco, Potter and Weasley all groaned as they remembered the mochas they had had the first day—and that they had each assumed the other had brought. The lab had told them they were working on an antidote. And because it had been found in a chocolate derivative, the laboratory bosses were excitedly calling it...
Potter groaned. “Cuddle chocolate... fucking hell.”
Draco hung his head in his hands. It was one thing to be dosed with sex pollen, but cuddle chocolate?
Pansy was going to be laughing about this for years.
“It could be worse,” Weasley said quickly, earning a smirk from Potter and a glare from Draco.
“Yeah?” Potter asked.
“Well, the... cuddle chocolate... was targeting us as the investigating Aurors. But the rest of the samples we got for, er, testing from the chocolate shop came back all clear, and they are divine!”
“Oh, is that why there was a stack of matcha white chocolate fudge on your desk?” Potter asked interestedly.
“Yep!” Weasley replied. “I’m just waiting for the espresso-brownies, but I think they’ll be all cleared tomorrow.”
“Honestly,” Draco scoffed, rising to his feet. “Do you ever stop eating?”
“You sound just like my ex-girlfriend,” Weasley groaned. “Go out in the rain and start talking about exam timetables and I’d be unable to distinguish you.”
Draco threw a withering look at Weasley over his shoulder, but he paused once he was out of the room.
Ex-girlfriend?
But Draco didn’t have much time to keep pondering. After the meeting with Robards, it was back to work.
Although with Draco’s partner still recovering from being poisoned himself, Draco was back to... his enormous stack of paperwork.
Of course.
Well, Draco thought, sliding into the seat behind his desk and picking up his quill. At least he wasn’t likely to be poisoned here.
He managed to write a report on the poisoning case, then returned to his initial pile of reports that had already been pending.
He’d been told in no uncertain terms that he had to get it all done by Christmas or else he’d be staying late and filing it all personally, without the assistance of the usual DMLE office clerks.
He made good progress, despite his thoughts drifting to dark, messy hair and strong, freckled forearms.
Urrrgh.
What were they doing now?
Draco told himself to stop caring.
He worked through lunch, eating sandwiches from a stack on his desk, his out-tray growing taller and taller with each report that he completed.
But by the time it was evening, those dreadful yearning pangs were starting to hit Draco again.
Fuck.
Okay, when were those Healers going to come up with an antidote?!
He knew by now the sensations were just going to get worse and worse. So he stood up and grabbed his coat, storming out of the DMLE.
This time when he arrived at Grimmauld Place, Potter gave him a knowing look.
“Shut up,” Draco said immediately.
“I didn’t say anythi—”
“You didn’t have to, your face just… can’t control itself,” Draco replied, storming inside past him.
“I’m… sorry for my face?” Potter said, scrunching his eyebrows adorably.
No, wait, it wasn’t adorable! Although… Potter had never, ever apologised to Draco before.
Interesting…
“Harry,” Weasley’s voice rang out from the lounge. “Is Malfoy here yet?”
“Just arrived,” Potter said.
Potter motioned for Draco to walk with him to the lounge room, and Draco fell into step beside him. He ignored the portraits whispering on the walls, then finally they walked into the lounge room, where Weasley was already leaning back on the couch.
He looked calm, and comfortable, and not like someone suffering from sex pollen or cuddle chocolate.
Draco was livid. Weasley lifted an arm, and Draco crawled in, hating himself for how good it felt. He let out a huff as he snuggled closer, Weasley’s arm draping around him.
Potter slipped in after him, curling up behind Draco and wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist.
They lay there like that, not talking, Draco’s heart beating nervously in his chest.
He’d never been the one in the middle, he realised.
And it felt nice.
Really nice.
He felt safe, supported on both sides, with two sets of arms comfortably around him.
No wonder Potter or Weasley were always so much calmer the next day after being in the middle!
Hmmm. So Draco could deal with this.
It was only for one hour, anyway…
Draco found himself waking a bit later, blinking in the dark. An old grandfather clock in the corner showed the time as two in the morning. Okay. So definitely enough time had passed to satisfy their little cuddle… requirement.
Draco felt a bit thirsty and eased himself out of the two Gryffindors’ arms, slipping off to the kitchen. Once there, he filled a glass with water and drank it down in a few satisfying gulps. Then he left the glass on the benchtop and tiptoed back to the lounge.
Fuck, he should just leave.
Right now.
But…
Draco paused in the entryway, unable to look away.
Weasley and Potter were still very close together on the couch.
Watching them, Draco couldn’t help remembering talking and laughing in the chocolate shop, the three of them holding hands and leaning against each other at the winery, and even Weasley’s teasing grin as he asked Draco to stay for breakfast with them.
Draco felt an odd sort of flutter in his chest.
What if he just… stayed?
No one knew he was awake.
Draco watched them for a few more seconds, debating with himself.
Then, biting his lip, he crept back over and climbed back into the spot in the middle of Weasley and Potter, letting out a satisfied sigh.
Draco actually did fall asleep til morning after that. Though no wonder—it was so cosy in Potter and Weasley’s arms.
Not something that he’d ever thought he’d say…
When Draco woke again later, it was to a hand carefully shaking him awake.
“Malfoy. Malfoy… Draco?”
Draco groaned. “Y-yes! I’m awake.”
“We… didn’t manage to wake you up before, sorry,” Weasley’s sheepish voice said.
Draco let out a theatrical sigh. “You mean you… you failed again?! You two are so inconsiderate, not waking me up and telling me the time was up.”
“I… sorry about that,” Potter said, though he had a small smile on his face.
“Well, maybe some breakfast would make it up to me,” Draco said casually, a small thrill in his stomach as Potter’s grin grew. “After all, I won’t have any time to grab something before we’re due at the DMLE.”
Potter nodded. “Fine. Kreacher’s made raisin toast—a whole loaf, way too much for just Ron and me, and it’s still warm and toasty—so come on.”
And with that, Potter extended his hand to Draco, who took it at once. He let Potter pull him to his feet as his mind whirled.
Cuddling and raisin toast?
Could there be a more perfect start to the day? Draco wondered, biting back a grin.
And so, a rhythm began.
Draco turned up at Grimmauld Place every evening, arms crossed and leaning against the door. And Potter let him in, the two of them playfully bickering at the doorway before going over to Weasley and slipping into a huddle together, arms around waists and limbs intertwined. Draco grew used to the feel of Weasley’s shoulder under his cheek, or Potter’s arm wrapping under his waist.
And oh, how he grew to love it.
He had to be careful, though.
If he went over too early in the evening, there was a risk Potter or Weasley might not fall asleep, and that they’d notice when the hour was up.
Too late, and they might notice that the cuddle pull was wearing off…
But that’s why he chose his time very carefully; just the right time to be plausible, and it was working incredibly well.
Potter and Weasley didn’t suspect a thing.
Surprisingly, they never even woke up overnight despite sleeping on the couch together all the time.
But hey, Draco was going to count his blessings.
And spending so much time together, Draco found himself learning a lot about Potter and Weasley. Weasley, who had such strong ties to his family, and was such a clever strategist that Draco found himself wondering if there wasn’t a bit of Slytherin in him. And Potter, who loved to joke around and was actually very witty, and who had such a big heart. Draco nearly cried with laughter when Potter was cornered by a distraught old lady worried about her missing service Crup and whether the DMLE would press vandalism charges if he ‘accidentally got into any curtains… he loves curtains’. Potter spent at least twenty-five minutes with the lady before he could settle her down with some water, shooting Draco a flustered look and mouthing, ‘er… help please!?’. They’d crawled under desks looking around for the Crup and finally found him enthusiastically scratching the door to Robards’ office (uh oh). Potter managed to pick up the wriggling puppy and carry him back to his owner, and Draco had felt an odd swooping sensation in his stomach at the sight.
It didn’t help that as Potter told Weasley the story that night, Potter started absentmindedly tracing little circles on Draco’s hip, as they cuddled together, making Draco bite his lip to avoid any sound—be it a giggle or a happy sigh.
Weasley and Potter were really nothing like he’d imagined… They surprised him at every turn.
He grew to eagerly look forward to their cosy evenings together.
But soon he was going to be running out of excuses.
Unless, of course, he confessed…
But Draco always shook his head. He was a Slytherin. He didn’t make stupid errors.
And confessing his growing feelings… that definitely would be a stupid error.
Draco threw himself into his work, which Robards was very happy about. But for Draco, it was a way to avoid glancing over at Potter all the time, or wondering if he could hear Weasley’s voice from nearby. He still had a long way to go, though, and he just had to keep up the pace…
Draco sighed as he unrolled another evidentiary scroll. He scanned the cramped writing, then picked up his quill again, finding his spot in his report.
He’d just finished making another annotation when there was the sound of a throat clearing quickly.
Draco looked up hurriedly to see Potter and Weasley approaching, their eyes falling on the enormous stacks of parchment piled up everywhere surrounding Draco.
“Yes, I’ve been… a bit lax with paperwork, but it is getting done,” Draco said immediately.
Weasley let out a laugh. “Don’t care, mate, my files are just as bad.”
Potter shook his head, though he had a look of fond exasperation on his face. “That’s not something to be proud of, but okay.”
“So,” Draco cut in, before they could settle themselves in the chair opposite and really make Draco start questioning what was happening, “why are you here?”
Weasley ruffled his hair. “Well, even though we survived today without seeing your pointy face, it’s getting late so we have to drag you home.”
Draco raised an eye at that, and Weasley hastily added, “er, to Harry’s place.”
“And,” Draco added with a drawl, “the reason I’m just going to go with you is…?”
“Well, there are two of us,” Potter said, stepping closer. “And only one of you.”
Draco casually just dipped his quill in his ink again. “Of course you would resort to some sort of brute force.”
“I think you mean ‘incredible results from intense strength-training’,” Weasley said. “Ask Robards.”
“But we wouldn’t have to resort to either,” Potter said, “if you’d come with us now.”
Draco let out a theatrical sigh. “Fine.”
He stood abruptly from his desk and reached for his coat. “But you are going to be the one explaining to Robards if he snaps because of my overdue reports.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Potter said reassuringly. “That wouldn’t happen.”
“How do you know?” Draco asked sceptically, as they stepped out of his office.
“Because he would have been crushed by the pile of Ron’s overdue reports first,” Potter answered with a straight face, before Weasley shoved him roughly and Potter let out a burst of laughter.
Draco couldn’t help laughing himself.
The next morning, after they’d (‘accidentally’) fallen asleep cuddling as usual, Draco woke with his cheek pressed against Weasley’s chest and one of Weasley’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. He kept his eyes closed, scootching a bit closer, letting out a satisfied hum.
Weasley’s arm tightened around him, and ah, that was perfect.
He was snug, and warm, and secure, and this was so much nicer to wake up to than his cold, lonely bed at home. He was going to enjoy it as long as he could.
Although… something missing…
Draco couldn’t help blinking his eyes lazily to try to find where Potter was, but his seat on the couch was empty.
Wait, what?
“Ah, the lovebirds are finally awake!”
Draco’s heart thudded as he heard Potter’s voice from the doorframe.
Draco and Weasley sat up quickly, arms dropping from each other.
Whoops.
Fuck, how long had they been cuddling?
“I… sorry, Weasley,” Draco said hastily, shifting away on the couch.
“Yes I—was about to say something,” Weasley said, whose face was equally red.
Draco jumped up, heading quickly to the bathroom. “I’ll just… just go and get ready. And see you around, uh, later.”
Then he fled to the first-floor bathroom, locking himself inside in a rush.
Draco checked his hair and cast a dental cleansing charm, then looked at himself in the mirror.
“Whatever they say… it was the chocolate. Yes, you haven’t felt the compulsion for ages, and yes, the lab said that you would all recover, but…” Draco broke off, hitting himself in the forehead. “Bloody hell. What sort of excuse could I give?!”
Should he claim that Purebloods had a delicate constitution?
Or that the pollen obviously took advantage of developing attraction?
Wait—no, Draco interrupted himself hurriedly.
He absolutely could not say that!
“Fuck,” Draco swore.
He took a deep breath and smoothed down his shirt. He’d just laugh it off, if he had to. Even though he was absolutely dreading any confrontation…
When Draco finally left his sanctuary, neither Potter nor Weasley were around.
But as he made his way sneakily to the front door, Draco ran into Kreacher.
“Mr Malfoy!” Kreacher called out, hurrying over. “Is sir going to stay for breakfast?”
“Uh… maybe not this time.”
Kreacher’s ears drooped. Draco felt a little twinge in his chest.
“But Mr Potter asked me to specially make you French toast again,” Kreacher said solemnly.
“He… he did?”
“And someone had better eat Kreacher’s cooking,” the house-elf said bitterly. “Mr Weasley raided the cooler last night and didn’t even tell Kreacher!”
“He… he what?”
Kreacher sighed. “Mr Weasley is always hungry, and ruins Kreacher’s plans by eating all his—”
“No, not that bit,” Draco interrupted quickly. “He… when? Last night?”
Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher will have to go to the market again, to get more honeycomb.”
Draco snuck a glance at the kitchen again, where he heard the low timbre of two male voices.
“You know what,” Draco said quietly. “I think I will stay.”
Kreacher gave a deep bow, but Draco could still tell that he was very pleased when he straightened up, his eyes bright once more.
And Draco turned to head to the kitchen, telling himself to be brave.
When Draco emerged into the kitchen, it took all his nerve to meet Potter and Weasley’s eyes.
“I heard…” he started nervously, “that there was an invitation for breakfast. If—if you’ll have me.”
And then to Draco’s relief, Potter grinned, and gestured for Draco to come over.
“For Your Highness, of course there is.”
Draco frowned. “I thought I was ‘m’Lord’?”
“Oh, no, you were promoted,” Potter said easily. “If you can put up with the two of us, I think that deserves a reward.”
Draco felt his cheeks flushing.
The two of them?
Yum. And, Draco certainly loved a challenge…
So Draco nodded, joining them at the counter. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Weasley said with a teasing grin.
“Oh, I bet you would,” Draco shot back.
Amateurs.
Draco smirked and looked over at Potter. Potter was watching Draco and Weasley with an interested look, and when Draco raised a questioning eyebrow, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, Potter nodded at once.
Draco reached out for Potter, pulling him closer. And then they leaned in together, their lips meeting in a kiss.
Weasley let out a gasp, and Potter cupped Draco’s cheek with his hand as they kissed. They drew back, sharing a grin before Draco turned to Weasley. “Happy?”
Weasley reached for Draco’s hand, linking their fingers together. “So happy. But, also a little jealous. What about me?”
Draco pretended to sigh, but when Weasley pulled him closer, Draco couldn’t help smiling. They shared a quick kiss, before sitting down, grinning. And when they were all seated at the table, legs tangling together and chatting happily, Draco felt happy, full of hope, and like he was definitely at home, right where he should be.