An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 15/15
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Gawain Robards, Kingsley Shacklebolt
Additional Tags: Identity Reveal, Secret Identity, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Legilimens Draco Malfoy, Inappropriate Use of Legilimency (Harry Potter), Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Violence, Mind Games, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Sex While Using Polyjuice Potion (Harry Potter), Betrayal, Smut, Angst, Whump, Thriller, Crime Fighting, Enemies to Lovers, Case Fic
Harry's assignment was simple. Close out Draco Malfoy's missing persons case so he can be declared dead.
But who's making withdrawals from Malfoy's vaults? How is a death omen-turned-Unspeakable involved? Is an organization known as the Moirai to blame?
Harry brushes it off until he can't. Until The Prophet is flooded with sightings of dead people. Until Robards throws himself on his sword. Until Ron turns on his own family. Until Harry scarcely trusts his own reflection in the mirror and trusts the stranger in his bed even less.
Until all that stands between war and peace is Harry, a name plate, a stadium of murderers, and Draco Malfoy.
Harry propped himself up on his elbows, but the Doppelgänger grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back down. His lips found Harry’s, followed by teeth, tongue, and his hands on Harry’s arse.
The man kissed like he was starving. He'd kissed Harry the other times, but not like this. As though Harry could disappear at any moment.
The Doppelgänger clutched Harry’s head. His hips rolled, seeking friction. His hard length pressed against Harry’s belly, and a needy whine trickled from his nose.
Harry broke away with a sharp gasp. Under him, his mirror image lay, lips parted and pupils blown wide. The Doppelgänger’s blush crept down under the collar of his shirt. He gripped Harry’s arse and writhed. He whimpered, and his eyes fluttered shut.
Was this what Harry looked like? Lost to lust, was this how he looked? As though the slightest touch would make him come in his trousers?
He rocked his dick against the Doppelgänger and was rewarded with a whispered, “Please…”
Harry bit his lip and thrust again. The Doppelgänger arched his back, breath panting. “Harry…”
With a sigh, he buried his face against the Doppelgänger’s neck, then drew a deep breath. Toast. Always fucking toast. His shadow hid his wry smile as he rose on all fours.
The Doppelgänger’s hands flew to Harry’s trousers, tugging them down.
“Bit greedy,” Harry said. He sat up, stripped his jacket off, and tossed it in a corner. The Doppelgänger said nothing, eyes glued to Harry’s fingers working their way down the buttons of his shirt. He threw it in the corner, too.
Still, the Doppelgänger said nothing, sharp tongue only darting out to wet his lips. His green eyes met Harry’s, and the gut-deep urgency in his gaze made Harry’s breath catch.
Not simple desire, or lust, or the promise of a bedroom conquest. No, far more than that. The ache of lonely nights. The raw need to touch and be touched. The primal requirement of shared body heat.
The Doppelgänger looked up at him in a silent plea.
No, not greedy. Desperate.