Oh Merlin, Not Again

Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to Accioslash. If you like it, then thank her for the inspiration that prompted me to write the sequel (gummy handcuffs!). If you don’t like it, then it’s all my fault for not knowing when to stop.
 

***
 

“Oh, bloody hell, don’t tell me you’re still moping.”

“She killed…”

“Dan, you gotta get over this.”

Daniel looked up and took the glass being pushed insistently in his direction. One sip and he was staring across the table in disbelief. “How..?”

Tom leaned into the table and smirked, for a moment channeling his character as his enunciation changed. “You’re Harry fucking Potter, she was only too happy to pour it.”

Dan looked into the glass and then held it up in a salute matched by the other young man at the table. “To the end.”

“To spending your eighteenth birthday in New York City,” Tom rejoined. “Time to find you a piece of ass, now that you’re no longer jailbait.”

 

***
 

A sudden ringing had Harry looking quizzically at Ron’s jacket. The redhead flushed, fishing out a slim metallic object.

“Oh, she didn’t,” Harry laughed.

Ron tried to repress his guilty grin, but failed miserably as he snapped open the cell phone to answer the call. “Hello? ‘Mione?”

Harry waited, but Ron just frowned and tried to cover his other ear with a hand. Rolling his eyes, Harry waved his friend off. “Take it outside.”

Ron nodded silently, wandering away from the table. He made a quick motion with his hand that he’d be back in a moment.

Almost as soon as his back was turned, Harry was laughing. The same young man who had once covered an envelope so thoroughly with stamps that there was barely room for an address was now using a cell phone.

Ah, love.

 

***
 

“Come on, that was not an attempt!” Tom objected.

“I already told you… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Well, it’s not as hard as you’re making it. Just, act like you know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t,” was the flat denial.

Tom rolled his eyes and sighed. “Okay, look. Do you even want to be here?”

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted.

“Basics then… Do you want a girl or a guy?”

“Guy.”

Spluttering his drink, Tom hesitated. “Are you sure? That’s not gonna make things easy.”

Dan took a long swallow of his illicit beer before explaining, “Nah, actually it’s easier… A guy won’t expect me to know what I’m doing. A girl would.”

“Jesus… They’ve been throwing themselves at you for years and you still haven’t,” he paused at the expression on his companion’s face. “Okay, look, not judging here… But, you’ve had plenty of opportunity.”

“Really, when is that?” Dan started bitterly. “While I’m being followed endlessly by the paparazzi or when I’m being hidden away by my family?”

“How about when you decide that playing a naked stableboy is a valid career choice?”

Dan flushed. “I don’t want to be typecast.”

“Too late.”

He sighed. “Prick. We can discuss my future prospects later.”

“Okay,” Tom agreed with a sigh. “Just watch me. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

 

***
 

There was a person at his elbow that wasn’t Ron. Harry turned slightly in his chair, looking at the mildly familiar blond guy. Way too young for him…

“Hi,” the kid smiled with pure confidence. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Hesitating, Harry tried to manage more of a response than, “Uh…”

“I get that a lot,” the kid filled in the silence. He held out a hand. “I’m Tom.”

Harry blinked past the recognition that he was being hit on. His reply was not the smoothest denial he’d ever delivered. “I’m married.”

The blond blinked at him in return, before smiling smoothly. “That’s fine… It’s a drink, not an affair.”

Honestly amused, Harry smiled. Dear Merlin, this was not happening to him. He really had to get rid of this guy before Ron came back and spotted him…

“Really, I’m sorry to be rude,” Harry replied. “He’s very jealous and headed this way.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, the kid slipped back into the crowd. Laying his head on his hands, Harry did his best to compose the laughter threatening before Ron got back to the table and asked what was going on.

 

***
 

Tom wasn’t even firmly in his chair before Dan was nodding at him. “Yep, you’ve definitely showed me how it’s done.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really… I could only see the back of the guy’s head, but I think you made an impression.”

The scowl was enough to send him into giggles.

 

***
 

Harry looked up from where he’d been fiddling with his empty mug as his companion slid into the seat across from him. Raising a finger to their waitress for a refill and frowning when he was ignored, he sighed. “How was the ball and chain?”

Ron rolled his eyes as he tucked away the cell phone that Hermione had insisted on for the trip. “Just fine… You’d know how yours was doing too; she wanted to get him hooked up.”

Smirking, Harry responded, “Oh, he’s fine… Terrorizing the kiddies, as usual. You see, I have this nifty thing called floo powder.”

“You have an international floo connection?” Ron asked, incensed. “I don’t have an international line. I’m on a local, like I know anyone here.”

“But you’re not Harry Potter.”

The redhead smirked. “Not doing you much damn good tonight, is it, mate? How long’s that glass been empty? Same one you had when I stepped out twenty minutes ago?”

“Fuck off,” Harry spat lightly, turning on his stool. He still wasn’t any more successful about catching the girl’s eye. “Bloody Americans.”

“Sure, sure… You get pissed if they fawn over you like that nellie git this morning, but they ignore you and you’re just as ticked.”

Harry’s eyes rose as he detected the honest irritation in Ron’s voice. “Okay… I think you’ve had enough. Time for all good little married boys to get to bed.”

Ron took back the half-full and now decently warm glass that Harry was trying to confiscate. “Oh, farg off. You’re not me mum.”

After a pause, Ron elucidated. “Look, I’m sorry.”

Harry waited, knowing the explanation would come out at its own pace.

“This entire Conclave on Cooperation between Magical Law Enforcement Agencies thing was supposed to be handled by Miller. He might be a berk, but he actually wanted to come to the States for a week of enforced boredom. Instead, it’s you and me and I get to watch even the Yanks practically gagging over you. Mione’s not happy about it, either.”

Ron was going well now and Harry started to glance around to see if he needed to shush his friend. Thankfully, the bar was not only pretty crowded but also fairly loud. He doubted anyone could hear them, let alone catch enough to make this a security threat.

“How did I get to be the one defending the greasy git?” Ron continued, “Since clearly not even these imbeciles realize that maybe your marriage has survived the celebrity thing this long because it’s actually based on something. And I still don’t know why we got stuck with the shit detail!”

Ron ended on a half-yell. Harry flinched slightly with the guilt, before coloring a deep red.

His long-time best friend pointed an accusing finger across the table. “You didn’t… Again?? When are the two of you going to get over this newlywed thing? Really, you may not but he should know better! What happened this time?”

As Harry opened his mouth, Ron cut him off with, “No, really, I don’t want to know…”

Harry’s flush darkened and he wished desperately for even an over-refrigerated American beer to cut the parch of his throat.

 

***
 

Nodding vaguely as he hurried through the winding lower levels of the Ministry of Magic, Harry cursed the complexities of his job. Magical Protection had been an almost complete wash, due to his own fame. Acting as one of the Auror liaisons with other magical agencies was little better.

Case in point, his still being in the lower levels despite having agreed to meet Severus in his office nearly fifteen minutes ago.

Harry stumbled as his arm was grabbed and he was spun into the wall. The cold bite of a magical suppression cuff around his wrist was enough to cause a sudden jolt of panic. He struggled, fighting back even as the greater strength and bulk of his opponent scraped him against the wall.

The curse he managed to get off, even half impeded by the cuff already on his wrist, splashed uselessly against the opposite wall. Breathing hard against both his exertions and fear, Harry cursed into the material beneath his face as he felt the implacable weight of the cuff against his other wrist. His hands were locked behind him. His magic was equally as locked within him.

How did something like this happen? Had he been so distracted by the thought of his husband’s impatience and their likely activities that his guard had fallen so far? Dear Merlin, he was in the Ministry itself, who would attack him here?

“Release me,” Harry demanded.

He was pressed further into the wall, his clenched fists snug against the robe of the man who rested against his back. And it was definitely a man, as evidenced by the aroused bulge of a cock at his fingers.

Flexing them open, he cupped the fabric covered flesh and prepared to give a punishing squeeze. The action barely halted as he felt a much familiar signal, pressed in a light kiss and breath at the nape of his neck. Relaxing enough to recognize the hum of sympathetic magic in the other person, Harry kept to the game but avoided his intention to damage the other participant.

His finger, far from crushing his aggressor’s gonads, flexed in what was more a caress but could still be disguised as involuntary movement.

“I said, release me,” Harry repeated.

This time, the words had less of a push behind them as arms crossed around his body to flick open the buttons on his trousers. Harry, suddenly cognizant of their location, began to struggle in earnest.

“No, not here,” he protested.

The struggles were moot. A hand held flatly between his shoulder blades kept his upper body against the wall. The other loosened both buttons and belt, dropping Harry’s trousers to the floor as nothing remained to help them resist gravity.

A dark chuckle told Harry exactly what his aggressor thought about his lack of pants on this day. It was a situation that Harry would swear was probably being intentionally abused.

As his feet were kicked apart, hobbled as they were, Harry was forced to ease his resistance to the hand on his back and lean into the wall for support. He gasped as slick fingers sought out his entrance, thrusting inside with barely a thought to comfort.

“Merlin,” Harry groaned. “Quick… Just make it quick.”

The press of something larger than fingers made it clear that they were of one mind on the subject. Harry gasped as he was suddenly entered and just as roughly being fucked against the wall. The cuffs around his wrists burned as his magic fought for freedom, the pain a counterpoint to the pleasure pooling in his groin despite lack of attention.

And, quite clearly, the cock in his ass was all he would be getting.

Harry moaned as his partner changed angles slightly. He was being stroked just right inside. The pressure building, he closed his eyes against the white hot sparks flashing in his vision.

Howling, Harry came. His release splashed on the corridor wall. Flooded moments later by his antagonist’s semen, Harry groaned as the prick slipped free of him. The sensation of come seeping from his body was none too pleasant and the fingers that slipped back inside him were on the verge of almost too much.

“Next time…”

The silky voice in his ear made Harry stutter a response, “I’ll be on time.”

 

***
 

Harry shuddered with orgasm at the memory, dropping his head into his hands. There was absolute silence at their little two seat table that merely underscored the overall noise of their surroundings.

“You’re buying the next round.”

Green eyes glanced up from beneath a fringe of black hair. Ron was staring at him with resigned tolerance.

“It’s cheaper than the therapy I need now. Clean yourself up, mate, and go buy me a drink. Hit the bar since you’re not getting your usual service.”

Shoving back from the table, Harry shook his head. “You’re a pal, Ron.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron waved it off. “Make it something pricey. I’ve seen your vault.”

Harry laughed, even as he wandlessly banished the ooze in his pants. “Deal.”

Ron quickly drained the last of the liquid from his glass. Harry snagged the two mugs and began to ease through the crowd. It was fairly quick for him, never having gained a great deal of stature.

Not even noticing the appreciative glances, Harry bellied up to the bar. “Can I get a refill?” he asked, trying to be polite.

The spiky haired male bartender looked from him to the table with now only one occupied chair. “Isn’t your waitress…” He tapered off as he glanced around the crowded room, skipping over the majority of the people to huff at the presence of most of their staff at the far end of the room.

Grabbing a fresh pair of mugs, he began to fill them with the previous order. “Sorry about that, Sir.” A mostly annoyed polite smile curled his lips. “Apparently, I need to have a talk with the girls.”

Harry waved off the concern, nodding his acknowledgement as the man continued on to say this round was on the house. He was reaching for the glasses, ready to return to the table when two things happened.

A loud noise echoed in the space, deadening in the newly found silence as the music system failed. Almost simultaneously, there was the press of metal at the base of his skull.

“Nobody does anything stupid and this guy lives!” The shout was gruff and insistent, stunning the high-spirited occupants of the bar into startled submission.

This shit always happened to him, Harry thought as he studied what he could see of the room through the glass at the back of the bar. It was mostly obscured with a collection of bottles and glasses but he could make out enough to see that the man holding him at gunpoint wasn’t alone.

 

***
 

The waitresses gathered around their table screamed, cut off shortly by the shout of the man who had fired the shot into the ceiling.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” one began to babble.

She was cut off shortly by Tom’s quick, “Shut up!”

They both knew it wouldn’t be a good thing to draw attention to their corner.

But as the dark-haired man, the one Tom had hit on earlier with no success, was forcibly turned away from the bar, Dan got a good look at his face.

“Oh, Merlin,” he whispered, echoing the sentiment of the waitress. He didn’t see the confused look on Tom’s face as his friend and coworker overheard the simple words.

 

***
 

As Harry was paraded around the room, he thanked the people from whom he was being forced to collect wallets and jewelry. It was polite, even without the push of calming thoughts that followed his quick touches as they passed him their items.

He waited, knowing his chance would come… and hoping it would be before they reached the two boys he’d spotted in the corner. Or, at least, before the assailants recognized wealthier prey.

The room was being sorted. Those who had been stripped of their belongings were being locked into restrooms and offices. The group in the manager’s office entered it dejected as the one thug had exited with a clearly cut off telephone line. It had, thankfully, thinned the crowd a bit.

Unfortunately, he’d lost sight of Ron as they kept moving people back and forth.

Harry’s breath was cut off forcibly as the man behind him shoved him into a table. The wooden edge ground against his lower ribs as the gun trailed from his nape to push at the top of his shoulders. It assured he stayed slightly forward, bent towards the center of the circular surface.

“Now let’s see what you have…”

Harry endured the quick frisking, cursing mentally as the hand pushed aside his jacket and found the inner flap.

“What’s this?”

His wand was withdrawn, the absence almost a physical loss.

“And who do you think you are? Harry fucking Potter?”

The man’s laugh was echoed by his compatriots, the nervous silence growing. Harry could see the few incredulous glances being sent his way as people shifted nervously in the crowd that hadn’t yet been relieved of their valuables.

Pressing at his back, the man levered his lower body against Harry. In that moment, he once more understood why Voldemort had hated Muggles… Even if he would never make the choice for genocide, he was ready to beat this one for his impertinence.

“You one of those fags that likes to roleplay? You spread them for anyone?”

Harry grit his teeth. Perhaps the idiot thought his wedding ring was just another prop.

“Here, boys… Take a look at this one’s wand.”

The last word was overly emphasized, the sarcasm and double meaning clear to anyone with half a brain.

Harry could feel the shift of the man’s body as he drew his arm back to throw the slender wood across the room. He tensed, ready to take the chance, before freezing as he saw a figure step from the crowd of patrons.

It was a one in a million catch. Harry knew he could have done it, but that was from a childhood dodging curses and seeking the snitch. He wasn’t sure quite what enabled this young man the same ability.

Dan took the wand from the air with only a slight stretch, his sudden step from the crowd an instinctive reaction. He owed this man his life… and now his own talent could return the favor.

“Release him, now, Muggle scum.”

The man holding the gun to Harry’s back actually hesitated. “What the fuck?” he asked, incredulous.

Dan flicked the wand in his hand in a sharp motion. Disliking the mistreatment, the holly and phoenix feather reacted with a bright display of red sparks.

The instant of shocked awe crossing the young actor’s face could easily be misread. Harry, though, saw the caution rising as the blue eyes met his own green in a steady glance. He blinked slowly, reassuring, as Dan repeated himself.

“I said to release him!”

Finishing in a demanding tone, the people behind him were now shifting nervously. The crowd spilled back to allow Tom to step forward. He did so slowly, taking a place at Dan’s side.

“What would you have of me, My Lord,” he asked in the perfectly obsequious tones of a Malfoy. His hand was slightly hidden by the fold of his clothing, as if reaching for a concealed wand.

Dan seemed to take a deep breath before flicking the wand sharply again. The ray of angry garnet sparks repeated, this time accompanied by a curl of golden smoke.

As the gun lifted from its press against Harry’s spine, he readied himself.

“Who the fuck do you think…”

The man didn’t even have the chance to finish his question, or the threat that would likely follow. Harry jerked up from the table, smashing his head backwards. It was a perfect hit, one the Weasley twins had been proud to teach him. The rigid bone of his skull smashed the nose of his assailant with a crunch.

“Accio wand!” Harry shouted.

Eagerly, his wand leapt from the loose grip of a young actor to the hand of its master. A gesture had the thieves he could see paralyzed. Turning at the sound of a thump, he spun in place.

To see that Ron had already petrified his far too touchy attacker.

“About time you remembered you were a wizard,” the redhead quipped. His eyes betrayed his concern for his friend as he quickly scanned over Harry.

Harry just shrugged, glancing back at the other people in the room. There were maybe twenty-five of them left. Fronted by the two actors, the crowd was staring. Some, quite understandably, were gaping open-mouthed.

“I hate crowd control,” Harry not-quite-whined.

“That’s because you suck at it, mate,” Ron replied, with a friendly nudge to the shoulder.

Even so, he began to take the few steps towards the others, calling out, “Ladies and gentlemen…”

Harry kicked the body of the man who had attacked him aside, pulling a chair. He slumped into it, gesturing at his erstwhile savior. Dan approached him slowly, Tom at his side trying to get him to step back.

“You,” Harry started with an accusing finger, his wand loose in his other hand, “were supposed to be obliviated.”

Dan looked about ready to lie, before shrugging. “I’m an actor, sir.”

Tom was glancing between them, unsure whether to be shocked and terrified or squeal like one of their fangirls. He settled for a dismayed, “I hit on Harry Potter.”

It was voiced just in time for Ron’s return. “Wait… He hit on you?”

The eager grin on his friend’s face belied the torture in Harry’s future. “Ron…”

“Oh, forget it,” Ron interrupted. “I am sooo telling your husband.”

Harry groaned as the front doors of the bar broke open with a crash. The new arrivals burst in, wands drawn. They seemed ready to break up an attack, before faltering at the clearly resolved situation in front of them.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry offered, grateful to get away from the harassment Ron was no doubt more than ready to share. He stood, turning back only to ask, “Would you please obliviate the kid this time?”

 

***
 

Ron stared at the two actors as Harry led the New York Magical Police Department in the rest of the cleanup.

“Go ahead,” Dan prompted quietly. “Faking it last time… it could have endangered your world.”

The dark haired teenager winced as Ron obliviated his friend. Tom’s immediate dazed confusion was just a reminder of the amazing information he was about to lose.

Ron turned to Dan, leaning in slightly. “You don’t remember anything.”

Eyes widening, Dan stuttered for half a second before his own dazed confusion had him slumping to the floor at Tom’s side. Ron nodded, before stepping off to help his auror counterparts.


Finis
 

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