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elrhiarhodanTitle: How the Heart Approaches What It Yearns (Part Two of Two)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Other Male Characters from Another Fandom; Peter/Elizabeth, Peter/Neal UST, Neal/Other (not original) Male Character, Eventual Peter/Neal
Spoilers: Minor reference to the end of Season 5
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~14,200
Beta Credit:theatregirl7299
Summary: Set about a year after the events at the end of White Collar Season 5, Neal tells Peter that he’s seeing someone – a guy. When Neal brings him over to the house, the Burkes get the shock of their lives.
A/N: This is a crossover, but I’m going to be coy and not tell you what the crossover is. Since this was written as a birthday fic for my dearest friendlumosed_quill, she’ll probably get what this is, because I wrote it for her. But for the rest of you White Collar fans, I’d rather let you discover the surprise at the heart of the story. But if you find you can’t bear not knowing before you read this, you can download the full header from my dropbox, here.
Title from the Paul Simon song of the same name.
__________________
Harry had come to New York for two reasons – to make sense of what he wanted from the rest of his life and to escape the weight of his magical heritage. Almost two months after he had arrived, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t going to achieve either goal.
Even that first week, before he’d met Neal, some people seemed to recognize him. There was a man on the steps of a tall and nameless building who looked at him and nodded his head in respect. A woman at a coffee shop who stifled a gasp when he ordered a drink – something called an Americano – but she’d said nothing, giggled and refused to meet his eyes. He was familiar with that behavior in London, but he hadn’t expected it here in New York
As the weeks passed, it got steadily worse. He’s spend time with Neal in museums and art galleries, going to concerts and cultural events, and he was recognized. Eyes would follow him, and most were kind or awestruck, although there were a few hostile stares and Harry thought he recognized at least one Death Eater who’d evaded prosecution in England.
Neal, for his part, seemed oblivious to those curious looks. Or maybe he thought people were staring at him. He was, after all, startlingly beautiful and Harry found himself rethinking his initial impression, that Neal was at least part veela. Except that Neal had no magic other than his beauty. Oh, he was talented in ways that Harry had a hard time wrapping his brain around – like his facility with languages. It was almost beyond comprehension that Neal could speak nine separate languages, understand three or four more, and he learned them the muggle way. No spells, no incantations or charms or magical objects facilitated the process.
There were times that Harry was tempted to work a tiny spell, to test Neal’s reaction. Maybe wafting a feather across the room or producing some rare flower out of nowhere. But that seemed like the worst sort of trick to play on someone he had no plans on making a life with.
At least he’d been upfront with Neal about that, and Neal, for his part, seemed relieved. He’d told Harry that he was done with falling head-over-heals in love. Yes, he’d wanted something more than a friends-with-benefits relationship, but he wasn’t interested in setting up house with anyone. His heart wasn’t in it.
Harry suspected that Neal was already in love. In love with someone he couldn’t have. It was also pretty damn obvious who it was. He wished that Neal would admit it, so they could commiserate together. But he didn’t, and Harry didn’t talk about Draco.
Maybe one of the most soothing things about his relationship with Neal was how little Neal pried. Harry had shared some details – heavily edited for muggle ears – telling him about his marriage to Ginny and the damage their divorce caused to his relationship with Ron. He talked about his sad and pathetic childhood. About how every adult in his life turned on him at some point – or died.
Neal hadn’t given him platitudes or cried for him or tried to dig out the details. He’d just let Harry ramble, much the way that Neal himself had done when they’d first met.
It was all so freeing. Which was why Harry hadn’t seen the impending disaster. Neal had frequently talked about his time at the FBI, and his friend – although he was careful to refer to him as his “handler” – Peter Burke featured prominently in his stories. There was such affection and longing in Neal’s words, Harry didn’t need to cast legilimens to discover what Neal was feeling.
Maybe if he had, he’d have seen Peter Burke and recognized him. And been prepared.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry was an utter mess. Decades of corruption and mismanagement had left it in shambles. Kingsley Shacklebolt, with typical wisdom, sent a call to the magical orders around the world, asking for help in reorganizing the Ministry, in weeding out the corruption, in reestablishing law and order and justice. Harry – who’d forgone the optional “eighth year” at Hogwarts to become an Auror – had just finished his training when he’d been assigned to work with an American wizard.
Peter Burke had been something of a revelation. Harry hadn’t met many Americans, although he’d certainly seen a few American shows on the telly (when he’d been allowed to watch it at the Dursleys’). They seemed to be a loud, brash and rude people, wearing big hats and cowboy boots, always stealing things and sleeping with other people’s wives. Or shooting people with guns.
Although he wasn’t loud or brash, Peter Burke wasn’t soft-spoken or deferential to the great English wizarding heritage either. He – and a handful of other Americans – rather diplomatically swept aside the old order, making sense of a bureaucracy that had become so infatuated with its own rules that it couldn’t see the corruption that destroyed it from within.
He was also a damned good wizard. It hurt to admit it, but he might have been as good as Albus Dumbledore or Severus Snape. Or even better. Except that Peter Burke, like the other Americans, only used magic as a last resort. They seemed to prefer the muggle way of living, using machines to take care of chores like cleaning and cooking and getting around. And when there were no machines to do the work, they did things without magic, too. For Merlin’s sake, Peter Burke folded his own clothes. He’d offered a simple explanation. “It takes the same amount of energy to fold my shorts whether I use magic or I do them the mundane way. Why call attention to things?”
Harry wasn’t sure he understood, but he enjoyed his time working with the American, regardless of his odd preferences for muggle ways of doing things. It helped soften the memories of the years with the Dursleys.
Harry had worked with Peter for nearly a year and it came as a shock when the man told him that he was going back home. He’d been offered the chance to take up a less life-threatening role in muggle law enforcement and he’d decided to take it.
“But they use guns!”
Peter clapped him on the back and laughed. “And they have bullet proof vests, too. Besides, everyone in my department will be a witch or a wizard, and we’ll watch out for each other. And honestly, guns are a hell of a lot less scary than rogue wizards bent on world domination.”
He’d kept in touch with Peter for a brief while, even inviting him to his wedding. Peter had declined, letting him know that he was getting married soon, too. Ironically, to a woman that Harry had known, albeit very slightly. He’d been in his second year at Hogwarts when Elizabeth Mitchell arrived to do a “year abroad.”
Their paths had crossed a few times, mostly because she’d been sorted in Gryffindor. She’d made friends quickly with all of girls, even Hermione – who’d been impressed by the American witch’s skills. Elizabeth didn’t last the full year, though. Her parents had pulled her out of school and took her home right after the basilisk had frozen Colin Creevey, and that was the last he’d seen of her.
After his wedding and all the failed attempts to start a family, Harry had deliberately let the connection fade. He’d never quite forgotten about the brilliant and somewhat idiosyncratic American wizard, but the memory became so dim that when he listened to Neal talk about his friend, his handler, Peter Burke, Harry hadn’t made the connection.
He’d had the barest few seconds to cover his shock when Peter had opened the door. However, he’d been so accustomed to ignoring his own fame, that it was easy enough to pretend not to know Peter.
Peter, though, had a hard time covering his shock and surprise. It was possible that Neal had never mentioned his last name, and Harry was certain that he was the last person Peter had expected to turn up as Neal Caffrey’s new boyfriend.
The next few minutes were terribly awkward. Neal was angry at Peter’s behavior and Harry did his best not to lay a soothing hand on him and tell him it was okay. But that would mean all sorts of explanations that neither he nor Peter were able to provide. So he followed Peter’s lead and did his best not to make the situation any worse.
At least until he heard Peter’s wife come downstairs and remembered his very slight connection with the woman. He held out a tiny bit of hope that she didn’t.
That hope died a very swift death when Neal introduced him to her. Her reaction would have been comical if it wasn’t for Neal and the need to explain what couldn’t be explained.
Except Peter did the unexpected. He flicked out his fingers at Neal and murmured obliviate.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The sound of Peter and Elizabeth’s laughter jarred him out of a stupor.
“Neal, you are such a good person.” El gave him a hug.
“I – uh – am?” He looked from her to Peter, who was smiling at him with tremendous pride, to Harry, who was holding his hand and looking at him like he was a hero. “What?”
Harry stroked the back of his fingers. “We were talking about how we’d met.”
“We were?” Neal could vaguely remember being angry at Peter, but he couldn’t remember why. He didn’t remember the four of them moving out to the patio and sitting down either. There were four glasses of wine on the table, his was nearly empty and so was Peter’s. There was a second bottle opened and breathing, this one the Shiraz he’d brought.
“Yes – you don’t remember telling Peter and Elizabeth how you came to my hotel after stealing back my wallet?” Harry kept up that distracting caress.
Neal shook his head slightly. “I – I guess not.”
“Maybe I need to cut you off.” Peter joked and took away his wine glass. “I hate to tell you, but Mozzie would be most disappointed.”
Neal couldn’t shake the confusion but he tried to defend himself. “I’m not drunk. I don’t get drunk on a half a glass of wine.”
“Half a glass? More like the best part of a bottle, sweetie.” El nudged at him. “Anyway, we should probably move inside and have dinner.”
“Okay.” He looked at Harry, then at Peter. Both men were smiling normally and Neal couldn’t think of a reason why he’d thought they were at odds.
Harry let go of his hand and he stood up, but almost immediately sat back down again. His head was spinning and he was feeling woozy.
“Neal?” Harry, Peter and Elizabeth looked at him, a worried expression on each of their faces.
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” He pushed himself back to his feet and this time he was fine. “Maybe I did have a little too much to drink.”
“You didn’t have anything to eat since breakfast,” Harry noted.
Neal nodded and accepted the excuse – except in his head, it felt like a lie. Wine was like water to him, and not even a whole bottle would be enough to make him phase out like this – even on an empty stomach. Peter gave him a curious look, concern and maybe a touch of guilt in his eyes, but what the hell did Peter have to feel guilty about?
Dinner was delicious and Neal stuck to water, still feeling shaky and out of sync with everything. Before dessert, he excused himself and went up to the bathroom, but not out of any real necessity. He washed his face in cold water and stared at himself in the mirror. It was his face, but he almost didn’t recognize himself. These were his features, but they just as easily could have belonged to another man.
He must have been in the bathroom a long time, because Peter tapped on the door and asked, “Neal, are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine. Just fine. Give me a few?”
“Okay.”
He took a deep breath and wiped the remaining drops of water off his face before opening the door. To his surprise, Peter was still there, waiting.
“All yours.” Neal gestured towards the bathroom.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter rested a hand on his bicep.
Neal nodded, suddenly overcome with emotion. Everything seemed to feel like it was falling apart and he didn’t know why.
“I like him.”
“Who?”
Peter chuckled. “Harry. Who did you think I meant?”
Neal shrugged.
“He seems like a good match for you.”
Neal had a hard time believing Peter. There was something else going on and he desperately wished he could remember what they’d talked about before they had moved out onto the patio. He couldn’t seem to remember anything between the time he rang the doorbell and that point in the evening.
“I’m proud of you, too.”
“Why?” Neal licked his lips and wished for a cold drink.
“Returning Harry’s wallet like that.”
“But I picked Tiny Bill’s pocket, so I’m not such -”
To his shock, Peter put a finger against his lips. “Hush. You did a good thing, that’s all that matters.”
Peter’s eyes were warm and approving and Neal felt his belly twist. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “We’re only using each other.”
Peter stepped back in surprise and Neal instantly regretted his words. “Using each other? What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing bad, really. Harry’s in love with someone he can’t have and I’m too much of a mess to even think about a serious relationship.” Neal hoped Peter wouldn’t ask any more questions.
But of course he did. “He told you this?”
“No, but I can tell. And he’s let some little things slip. I’m not prying.” And please don’t pry, either. “Besides, he’ll be going back to England soon.”
“You’re not going to go with him?”
“Haven’t you been listening to me? We’re not like that. Besides, my life’s here. In New York. You know that. ”
“Really, Neal? You don’t have anything tying you down here. You could go with him.”
The hall light was too dim, because Neal must have misread the pain in Peter’s eyes. “This is my home, Peter. I’ve told you before, I don’t want to leave.” I don’t want to leave the people I love. I don’t want to leave you.
And ironically, Peter asked, “Not even for love?”
“Jesus, Peter – what do I have to do to get this through your thick head. I don’t love Harry. He doesn’t love me. We understand each other and that’s what works.” Peter sighed and Neal gave into the bizarre urge to comfort him. “It’s okay, really.”
“I just want you to be happy, Neal.”
“I know, and I am. And when Harry gets on a plane and goes back to England, I will be unhappy for a little while. But you’ll call me up and tell me about a case that’s making you tear your hair out or we’ll brainstorm about what you should get Elizabeth for her birthday and I won’t be unhappy anymore.”
Peter was about to say something, but the moment was lost when Elizabeth called up, “Someone brought dessert and it looks delicious.”
He clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Don’t be long. I brought a red velvet cake and had to restrain Harry from stealing a piece.”
“Go and tell Elizabeth I’ll be right there. Need a few.”
Peter ducked into the bathroom and Neal let out a small sigh before going downstairs. Whatever was wrong with him seemed to have passed. Everything felt right and normal again.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
“Your friends are nice.” Harry thought he sounded like a prat but he had to say something. The silence was uncomfortable.
“They are. I don’t know what would have become of me if not for Peter and Elizabeth.” Neal chuckled drily, “Oh, wait – I do. I would have stayed a master thief – the world’s greatest con man. Lived a life of ease on my ill-gotten gains.”
“And I would have been miserable and ended up leaving New York without ever meeting you.”
Neal gave him a terrified look.
Harry had to laugh. “Don’t worry – I just mean that you returned my wallet. I probably would have just given up and gone back to England if I hadn’t met you. I wasn’t having a lot of fun wandering around New York City on my own, and getting my wallet and ID stolen was just about the last straw. Relax, I’m not in love with you.”
Neal didn’t have the grace to hide his relief. “Thank god. I mean – don’t take it personally, but we’ve never really come out and said anything and I’m not looking for anything permanent.”
And it doesn’t help that you’re as helplessly, hopelessly in love with Peter Burke as I am with Draco Malfoy. Harry banished that thought and continued to talk about their evening. “Anyway – they seem like good people. They care about you.”
Neal nodded. “Yeah – I’ve told you a lot about them, but it doesn’t really come close to the whole picture.”
Harry had to wonder what Neal would say if he found out that Elizabeth Burke threatened to tear him limb from limb.
“What are you thinking about?” Neal interrupted his musings.
“Nothing important.”
“I hope Peter wasn’t too overbearing. He can be a little protective.”
You don’t know the half of it.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Neal knew his time with Harry was running short. Not that Harry had said anything, but Neal was good at reading him. There was a tension in the other man that seemed all too reminiscent of his own feelings when he’d been on Cape Verde. An inescapable longing to go home, no matter what troubles that would bring.
Like he’d told Peter, he’d miss Harry. The sex was better than good – neither of them felt the need to fall into assigned roles. Sometime he’d top, other times Harry would. Neal had never been one for random hook-ups, but there was something to be said for uncomplicated sexual pleasure and it was nice to share a life with someone, even for a little while.
A week after that strange dinner at Peter and Elizabeth’s, they’d gone clubbing at a new place in Chelsea. Harry on the dance floor was something to be savored, especially in a skin-tight white tee shirt that showed off his nipples and jeans that cupped his ass like a lover. Neal never thought of himself as particularly kinky, but he had the almost overpowering urge to do things to Harry on the dance floor that just might get the both arrested.
Harry’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses and he’d smiled, a dirty twist of his lips that made Neal wonder if he could read his thoughts. The song – something throbbing and sensual – ended and Harry took his hand, pulling him off the dance floor. The lust that infected Neal’s brain was contagious and he let Harry pull him towards the men’s room.
Neal wasn’t normally a habitué of men’s rooms in gay dance clubs, he was too fastidious for that, but the backbeat from the latest track the DJ was spinning and the challenge in Harry’s bright green eyes was an irresistible combination. Harry led the way past two men in leather humping each other against the sink, but it was Neal who pushed Harry into an open stall, slammed the door shut and shoved Harry against it.
He humped him for a few moments, enjoying the pressure of that perfect ass – hard, round apples – against his cock, the soft denim catching on the button fly of his leather trousers with each movement.
When it became too much, Neal pulled, and Harry’s own button fly parted. He shoved the pants down the man’s thighs, and ran his fingers between those ass cheeks. The flesh was hot and damp with sweat and as Neal rubbed a little harder, he realized there was lube there, too.
“You’re such a dirty little boy, prepping yourself like some fuck-slut.” Neal heard the words coming out of his mouth but he couldn’t quite believe he said them. But his mouth disregarding his brain’s attempt at censorship, as filth kept spewing forth.
“You want my cock?”
Harry nodded, his cheek sliding against the dirty metal stall door.
“Say it, say it.”
“I want your cock, I want you to fuck me.”
“Here, in the john? Like a whore?”
Harry breathed a single word, “Please.”
Neal’s hand shook as he pulled out his wallet and found a condom. It was a miracle that he didn’t strangle his dick rolling it on.
Despite the lust, despite the near-seismic urgency, Neal took care of Harry, prepping and stretching him until Harry was whining and begging and rutting against the stall door.
Finally, Neal positioned his cock against that sweet, tight hole and pushed. All the careful preparation was worth it as he sank deep, almost to his balls.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
And Neal did just that, he didn’t have the will, the control anymore to be nice, to be a gentleman. He fucked Harry’s ass like a damned machine, hands clamped on his hips, hips whipping back and forth, ramming him hard against the door.
Harry just kept pushing back, taking more and more until he came, his hole clamping down on Neal’s cock, impossibly hot and tight and he orgasmed until the world when white.
It might have been his heart or maybe someone was pounding on the stall door, but Neal finally came back to himself. He pulled out of Harry, wincing a little, and disposed of the condom.
“You okay?”
Harry turned around, his hair plastered to his face, his glasses askew and his eyes glowing like emeralds under the ugly fluorescent lights. He kissed him, murmuring, “I’ve never been better.”
It took a little maneuvering in the tight quarters, but they managed to make themselves decent. Neal’s hands were still shaking a bit as he buttoned his pants and straightened his shirt.
Harry looked delicious and Neal regretted not taking more time. He wanted to play with Harry, to explore the mysteries of that body, bring him close over and over again, only to pull back and make him suffer so beautifully.
Neal stopped, shocked at his train of thought. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t really dominant, he certainly wasn’t kinky. It must be the music.
“Want to go back to my room?” Harry whispered in his ear. “The hotel’s just around the corner and you can do anything you want to me.”
Neal looked at the other man, even more shocked. Harry laughed and the spell broke. “Sorry, you should see your face!”
Still disoriented and a little woozy from his spectacular orgasm, Neal swatted at Harry. “Don’t do those things to me.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” They fought their way through the club, avoiding the bodies in constant motion. The late summer night was still warm, but the oppressive humidity from early in the season had been replaced by a cool breeze from the river. In another few weeks, it would be downright chilly this time of night.
They ended up at Harry’s hotel, arms slung around each other. The desk clerk greeted them with a smile and a bit of news. “You’ve got a visitor, Mr. Potter. He’s waiting in the lounge. He didn’t leave a name, though.”
Harry dropped his arm and straightened his tee shirt, suddenly and quite obviously upset. “I can’t imagine who’d come looking for me.”
Neal tried to make light of the moment. “You haven’t lost your wallet again?”
“No, of course I haven’t.” He patted his hip pocket and came up empty. “Shit.”
Neal grinned and handed the purloined wallet back to him. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
Harry gave him a look that was too much like the one Peter used to give him when he’d pull that same stunt – exasperation and fondness mingled in equal quantities.
“Want me to come with you or would you prefer if I left?”
“Would you mind?”
“No, not at all.” Harry had been married, and he’d hinted to Neal that he wasn’t out of the closet to many people. If they went into the lounge together, dressed as they were, it would take much to draw the right conclusion. He’d regretted not doing a better job of mauling Harry in the men’s room, not putting his mark on him, but now he was glad for his self-restraint.
“Thanks for understanding.” Harry leaned in and kissed him.
The kiss was sweet and gentle and tasted of sadness. Neal had the inescapable feeling that this might just be goodbye.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Neal nodded and stood there as Harry went into the lounge. He didn’t leave, though. The desk clerk was involved in a deep and meaningful conversation with her girlfriend and Neal took the opportunity to slip into the maintenance closet at the far end of the lobby. He’d scoped it out on one of his early visits – old habits were hard to break – and discovered that it opened into the lounge area.
He opened the door a fraction, just enough to see Harry’s visitor. The man was in profile to him, and even in the lounge’s dim lighting, Neal could tell that he was about Harry’s age, tall, with nearly white-blond hair and strong features. Good looking, but not breathtakingly so. More like a thoroughbred, with his hair receding from a wide, aristocratic brow.
What was a hell of a lot more interesting than his looks was the man’s posture. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he was leaning into Harry’s personal space. Harry’s own body language was equally conflicted.
It was a pity he couldn’t hear what the two men had to say.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Draco Malfoy was the last person he’d ever expected to find waiting for him at his hotel.
And New York City was the last place he’d ever expect to find Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
Harry didn’t want him in his hotel room. “Here is fine.”
Malfoy gave an annoyed huff and nodded. Of course, to Harry’s annoyance and no small concern, he pulled out his wand, gave a discreet wave and muttered muffliato.
“Don’t do that again.”
“If you were more cooperative, I wouldn’t have had to in the first place.”
Harry closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Why are you here?”
“To give you this.” Malfoy handed him a letter. The parchment was heavy, new sheepskin – but the weight was more than physical. There were a dozen charms laid on it, all keyed to his own magic.
He was in no rush to open it. “Do you know what’s in here?”
Malfoy said nothing.
“Should I be worried?”
“Look, Potter – I’ve travelled a long way to deliver it. Open the damn thing already.”
Harry suppressed a smile. Jerking Malfoy’s chain was as rewarding as ever. “Why you?”
“Because they asked, all right? Because they said, ‘Mister Malfoy, remember your position here, remember what you owe and to whom you owe it.’ So here I am, a glorified errand boy.”
That angered Harry. Draco had paid for what he did and he didn’t like it that people were unable or unwilling to let the past go.
“For Merlin’s sake, don’t pity me, Potter. It’s not term yet and frankly hanging around Hogwarts when the place is empty isn’t something I particularly enjoy.”
Harry nodded and turned his attention back to the envelope in his hands. The seal pulsed with magic and as he slipped his finger between the wax and the parchment, it took a tiny drop of blood. The seal dissolved with a dramatic sparkle and Harry was grateful that the lounge was empty.
The contents of the letter was as simple and as straightforward a communication from the wizarding world could be, which meant it was filled with florid courtesies and nearly impenetrable formalities. But in short, he, Harry Potter, currently Head Auror (on sabbatical), was being offered a position as the permanent and full-time teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts. If he so deigned to accept this position, the school would appoint him as head of Gryffindor House. And in a few years’ time, should he desire it, his name would be most strongly considered by the Board of Governors as Headmaster when the current holder of that position retired.
Harry stared at the words. He wanted this so badly, as much as he’d once wanted to be a Auror. Every term, he’d come and give a few lessons, and each time it was harder and harder to leave. If it wasn’t for Draco …
“You do know what this is, right?”
Now he answered. “You’d be the new DADA teacher.”
Harry nodded. “And the new head of Gryffindor.”
Draco clenched his jaw. “That I didn’t know.”
“Are you okay with it?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“Why do you care?”
“If I take the job, we’ll see each other every day.”
Draco sighed and whatever fight was in him seemed to collapse. “It’s all right, Potter. Even if I didn’t owe you, it would be fine.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“No?” The man raised one elegant eyebrow at him. “You could have let me die. You could have testified against my parents at the Wizengamot.”
“Your mother saved my life, near the end.”
“And my father did his best to end it many times before that.”
“Look – that’s the past. I’ve spent the last sixteen years trying not to relive it. Are you sure you won’t have a problem working with me?”
“No, Potter. I won’t.”
There was something in Draco’s posture that confirmed his words. Maybe it was the tilt of his head, the way his body leaned towards him that spoke volumes.
“Then I think I want to do this.” He took a deep breath. “No – I do want to do this.”
“If you sign the document, they’ll know right away.”
“I don’t have a quill handy.”
Draco laughed. “No, I don’t suppose you’d be able to hide one in those – ” He waved a hand at his denims. “Trousers.”
What? Before Harry could process the idea that Draco noticed his clothing, the man produced a pen. It was something typical Malfoy, heavy and ornate and probably a hundred years old. He scrawled his name across the bottom of the parchment and watched as the text of the offer was transformed into equally stilted words of a contract.
Harry had little patience for such antiquated formalities, but he’d have to learn to deal with it. Maybe someday he’d have the chance to change things.
Probably not.
“Come on – I have a portkey to take us back to Hogsmead. It’s set to go off at one AM.”
“No, you’ll have to go without me. I’ll go back the way I came.”
“You’re kidding me, Potter. You’re going to fly in one of those aluminium cans the muggles use?”
“Yes, Malfoy, I am. I have some things to do before I leave.” Like say goodbye to Neal.
“Term starts in a week.”
“And I’ll be there.” He tapped the letter against his palm. “I’m already committed, remember.”
“Then I’m off.” Draco took the letter and tucked it inside his coat. “See you next week.”
As Draco turned to leave, Harry called out. “Do you think, maybe, this time we might become friends?”
Draco smiled. “You’re a git, Harry Potter. But maybe…”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
“Okay, good work everyone.”
Peter stood at the back of the conference room, watching with pleasure as Clinton led the wrap-up meeting for a major case the division had just closed. They’d broken an international identity theft ring that had stolen tens of thousands of credit card numbers, selling them on the black market and funneling the profits to terrorists. Arrests had been made in twelve countries and even though there’d soon be other criminals waiting to exploit security flaws in the global banking system, the team could take pride in the work they’d done over the past few months.
Peter enjoyed watching Clinton manage the operation, run the team, and interface with a dozen different law enforcement agencies with differing agendas. He had worked the agents like dogs, but worked just as hard. It would be a pleasure to announce his promotion next week.
It was unusual to keep the same core group of agents; the Bureau was a meritocracy and didn’t hesitate to break teams up if it meant pushing an agenda. But Peter had fought to keep Clinton and Diana here, giving them both opportunities they’d never get, even with more senior titles, in smaller cities. It also helped that Clinton and Diana were accomplished wizards and the powers that be knew that if those skills were needed, they’d be needed in New York.
“Hey, boss, look what the cat dragged in.” Diana called his attention to what was going on in the bullpen.
A cluster of agents and civilian personnel were standing around, talking to Neal and Peter was hit with an almost overpowering sense of déjà vu. Over the last year, how many times had he walked out of his office and stared down at the bullpen, expecting to see Neal. Expecting but never finding him.
Neal looked up. He was smiling, but even from this distance, Peter could see something in his eyes. He crooked two fingers and pointed, “Caffrey, my office – now.”
Everyone laughed as Neal made a show of dragging his feet, exaggerating his reluctance as he climbed the stairs.
Peter kept a smile on his face until Neal was in his office. He closed the door and sat down, waiting for Neal to say something.
Neal didn’t oblige. He busied himself with the brim of his hat.
Peter cracked first, “So, what’s up?”
“Got anything for me?”
Ah.
“Possibly. We wrapped the big identity theft case – ”
“Yeah, I saw the press conference. I need to congratulate Clinton.” Neal sighed. “Anything else going on?”
Peter made a show of looking through the box of cold-ish cases he still insisted on keeping in his office, despite his position as ASAC. “Remember the Pederson accounting fraud? That’s still unsolved.”
“And it’s going to remain unsolved.” Neal didn’t even pretend interest. Back in the day, when Neal had no say in his assignments, he’d sweated hours over the Pederson file and came up empty.
“How about this one? It’s not a cold case, but it’s not a priority for the team either. Do you know who Etienne LaValle is?”
“Of course – bad boy rock star designer. Made a fortune from torn tee shirts printed with obscene gestures. What’s White Collar’s interest? Is someone counterfeiting his awful clothing?”
“Nothing so interesting. Last month, his collection of personal … objects was confiscated by customs under the global ivory importation ban.” Peter bit his lip and tried not to laugh.
“Personal … objects?” Neal mimicked his exact tone and the slight hesitation between the two words. “Ivory?”
Peter gave up and chuckled before handing Neal the folder.
Neal scanned through it and looked up, his eyes sparkling with humor. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He had a set of ivory dildos in his carry-on?”
“He says that they are legitimately acquired antiques. Customs thinks the provenance and the documentation is sketchy. Fish and Game passed it off to us.”
“And you’d like my opinion?”
Peter shrugged. “If you’re interested.”
“I don’t suppose I can see the objects in question?”
“Don’t see why not, but they don’t leave the customs locker.”
“Peter!” Neal gave him that slightly exasperated why don’t you trust me look.
They shared a laugh. Peter checked the time and it was close to noon. “Feel like grabbing a bite with me?” He figured Neal needed to talk – he didn’t casually stop by the office like this.
“You’re buying?”
He laughed. “What else is new?”
They found themselves back at the bistro where Neal had dropped his bombshell a few weeks ago and per their usual mode, they talked about nothing important until after they’d finished eating. Peter watched Neal over the edge of his coffee cup. He had a sinking feeling he knew why Neal came to see him.
“Harry went back to England a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry.” It seemed such a weak thing to say. And it was something of a lie.
Neal shrugged off his sympathy. “It’s okay. Like I told you, I knew he wasn’t staying in New York and I have no interest in going to England.”
“Did he ask you?”
“Ask me what?”
“To go with him.”
“No – it never came up.”
Peter sipped his coffee and searched for the right words. “His departure – it seems kind of sudden.” He wondered if there was some impending disaster that only Harry Potter could prevent. “Was he recalled to active duty?”
“No – he said that he was finally offered the teaching position he’d wanted. He had to get home right away – classes were starting in a week. Some fancy co-educational boarding school in the Scottish Highlands. Told him to watch out for the teenage girls, they can be relentless.”
Peter had to smile at the memory of one very relentless teenage girl. “And you? Are you okay?”
Neal shrugged again. “Yeah – I am.”
Peter raised an eyebrow at him, silently calling bullshit.
“Okay, so it hurts a bit. I liked him. But I think I liked having someone to share the nights with even more.”
Peter’s heart broke a little at the loneliness on his friend’s face. This might be the wrong time, the worst time, but he couldn’t keep quiet. “You don’t have to be alone, Neal.”
Neal looked at him, his eyes wide, maybe a touch confused. Before he could come back with some witty retort, Peter gently placed his hand on Neal’s. “A few years ago, when Keller had kidnapped Elizabeth, you told me that you stayed because of me.”
Neal opened his mouth but Peter cut him off. “Yes, and there were a lot of other reasons, but when I asked you why you didn’t leave with Mozzie, you looked me right in the eye and said ‘you’. Whatever happened afterwards – and there was some pretty bad crap there – I’ve never forgotten that. Back then, you stayed because of me. After your kidnapping and the commutation, you stayed in New York. You could have gone anywhere, done anything, but you stayed. I think you stayed because of me.”
Peter could feel Neal’s pulse race.
“You’re not the only one who stayed in New York, Neal.” He took a deep breath and committed himself. “I stayed because of you, too.”
“Peter?”
“El and I – our marriage is strong. Our hearts are strong, too. I’ve never hidden my feelings about you from her and she’s always understood and accepted – hell, she told me I was crazy for not saying anything to you. But – but I never thought that you’d – .” Peter swallowed hard. “I should probably be shot – this is so crass. Harry just left and I’m …”
“Offering me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Neal turned his hand, capturing Peter’s fingers. “I can’t pinpoint when I realized that I loved you – maybe when I woke up with a splitting headache and remembered that you stole the security tape from the Hauser Clinic. Or maybe when I thought you had Kate. I felt so betrayed. But I knew I loved you when I was about to walk away and fly off with Kate. Why do you think I turned back? I couldn’t leave. Not back then, not now.”
Peter couldn’t help but remember what Neal had once said to him. It was something meant to be trivial, part of an undercover operation, but he’d never forgotten it. And it never felt more like the truth. Life certainly did come down to a few moments, and this was one of them. He ran his thumb of the back of Neal’s fingers, feeling the heat and the life there.
“I hope you never do.”
“Then I’ll stay. Forever.”
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Other Male Characters from Another Fandom; Peter/Elizabeth, Peter/Neal UST, Neal/Other (not original) Male Character, Eventual Peter/Neal
Spoilers: Minor reference to the end of Season 5
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~14,200
Beta Credit:
theatregirl7299 Summary: Set about a year after the events at the end of White Collar Season 5, Neal tells Peter that he’s seeing someone – a guy. When Neal brings him over to the house, the Burkes get the shock of their lives.
A/N: This is a crossover, but I’m going to be coy and not tell you what the crossover is. Since this was written as a birthday fic for my dearest friend
lumosed_quill, she’ll probably get what this is, because I wrote it for her. But for the rest of you White Collar fans, I’d rather let you discover the surprise at the heart of the story. But if you find you can’t bear not knowing before you read this, you can download the full header from my dropbox, here.Title from the Paul Simon song of the same name.
Harry had come to New York for two reasons – to make sense of what he wanted from the rest of his life and to escape the weight of his magical heritage. Almost two months after he had arrived, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t going to achieve either goal.
Even that first week, before he’d met Neal, some people seemed to recognize him. There was a man on the steps of a tall and nameless building who looked at him and nodded his head in respect. A woman at a coffee shop who stifled a gasp when he ordered a drink – something called an Americano – but she’d said nothing, giggled and refused to meet his eyes. He was familiar with that behavior in London, but he hadn’t expected it here in New York
As the weeks passed, it got steadily worse. He’s spend time with Neal in museums and art galleries, going to concerts and cultural events, and he was recognized. Eyes would follow him, and most were kind or awestruck, although there were a few hostile stares and Harry thought he recognized at least one Death Eater who’d evaded prosecution in England.
Neal, for his part, seemed oblivious to those curious looks. Or maybe he thought people were staring at him. He was, after all, startlingly beautiful and Harry found himself rethinking his initial impression, that Neal was at least part veela. Except that Neal had no magic other than his beauty. Oh, he was talented in ways that Harry had a hard time wrapping his brain around – like his facility with languages. It was almost beyond comprehension that Neal could speak nine separate languages, understand three or four more, and he learned them the muggle way. No spells, no incantations or charms or magical objects facilitated the process.
There were times that Harry was tempted to work a tiny spell, to test Neal’s reaction. Maybe wafting a feather across the room or producing some rare flower out of nowhere. But that seemed like the worst sort of trick to play on someone he had no plans on making a life with.
At least he’d been upfront with Neal about that, and Neal, for his part, seemed relieved. He’d told Harry that he was done with falling head-over-heals in love. Yes, he’d wanted something more than a friends-with-benefits relationship, but he wasn’t interested in setting up house with anyone. His heart wasn’t in it.
Harry suspected that Neal was already in love. In love with someone he couldn’t have. It was also pretty damn obvious who it was. He wished that Neal would admit it, so they could commiserate together. But he didn’t, and Harry didn’t talk about Draco.
Maybe one of the most soothing things about his relationship with Neal was how little Neal pried. Harry had shared some details – heavily edited for muggle ears – telling him about his marriage to Ginny and the damage their divorce caused to his relationship with Ron. He talked about his sad and pathetic childhood. About how every adult in his life turned on him at some point – or died.
Neal hadn’t given him platitudes or cried for him or tried to dig out the details. He’d just let Harry ramble, much the way that Neal himself had done when they’d first met.
It was all so freeing. Which was why Harry hadn’t seen the impending disaster. Neal had frequently talked about his time at the FBI, and his friend – although he was careful to refer to him as his “handler” – Peter Burke featured prominently in his stories. There was such affection and longing in Neal’s words, Harry didn’t need to cast legilimens to discover what Neal was feeling.
Maybe if he had, he’d have seen Peter Burke and recognized him. And been prepared.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry was an utter mess. Decades of corruption and mismanagement had left it in shambles. Kingsley Shacklebolt, with typical wisdom, sent a call to the magical orders around the world, asking for help in reorganizing the Ministry, in weeding out the corruption, in reestablishing law and order and justice. Harry – who’d forgone the optional “eighth year” at Hogwarts to become an Auror – had just finished his training when he’d been assigned to work with an American wizard.
Peter Burke had been something of a revelation. Harry hadn’t met many Americans, although he’d certainly seen a few American shows on the telly (when he’d been allowed to watch it at the Dursleys’). They seemed to be a loud, brash and rude people, wearing big hats and cowboy boots, always stealing things and sleeping with other people’s wives. Or shooting people with guns.
Although he wasn’t loud or brash, Peter Burke wasn’t soft-spoken or deferential to the great English wizarding heritage either. He – and a handful of other Americans – rather diplomatically swept aside the old order, making sense of a bureaucracy that had become so infatuated with its own rules that it couldn’t see the corruption that destroyed it from within.
He was also a damned good wizard. It hurt to admit it, but he might have been as good as Albus Dumbledore or Severus Snape. Or even better. Except that Peter Burke, like the other Americans, only used magic as a last resort. They seemed to prefer the muggle way of living, using machines to take care of chores like cleaning and cooking and getting around. And when there were no machines to do the work, they did things without magic, too. For Merlin’s sake, Peter Burke folded his own clothes. He’d offered a simple explanation. “It takes the same amount of energy to fold my shorts whether I use magic or I do them the mundane way. Why call attention to things?”
Harry wasn’t sure he understood, but he enjoyed his time working with the American, regardless of his odd preferences for muggle ways of doing things. It helped soften the memories of the years with the Dursleys.
Harry had worked with Peter for nearly a year and it came as a shock when the man told him that he was going back home. He’d been offered the chance to take up a less life-threatening role in muggle law enforcement and he’d decided to take it.
“But they use guns!”
Peter clapped him on the back and laughed. “And they have bullet proof vests, too. Besides, everyone in my department will be a witch or a wizard, and we’ll watch out for each other. And honestly, guns are a hell of a lot less scary than rogue wizards bent on world domination.”
He’d kept in touch with Peter for a brief while, even inviting him to his wedding. Peter had declined, letting him know that he was getting married soon, too. Ironically, to a woman that Harry had known, albeit very slightly. He’d been in his second year at Hogwarts when Elizabeth Mitchell arrived to do a “year abroad.”
Their paths had crossed a few times, mostly because she’d been sorted in Gryffindor. She’d made friends quickly with all of girls, even Hermione – who’d been impressed by the American witch’s skills. Elizabeth didn’t last the full year, though. Her parents had pulled her out of school and took her home right after the basilisk had frozen Colin Creevey, and that was the last he’d seen of her.
After his wedding and all the failed attempts to start a family, Harry had deliberately let the connection fade. He’d never quite forgotten about the brilliant and somewhat idiosyncratic American wizard, but the memory became so dim that when he listened to Neal talk about his friend, his handler, Peter Burke, Harry hadn’t made the connection.
He’d had the barest few seconds to cover his shock when Peter had opened the door. However, he’d been so accustomed to ignoring his own fame, that it was easy enough to pretend not to know Peter.
Peter, though, had a hard time covering his shock and surprise. It was possible that Neal had never mentioned his last name, and Harry was certain that he was the last person Peter had expected to turn up as Neal Caffrey’s new boyfriend.
The next few minutes were terribly awkward. Neal was angry at Peter’s behavior and Harry did his best not to lay a soothing hand on him and tell him it was okay. But that would mean all sorts of explanations that neither he nor Peter were able to provide. So he followed Peter’s lead and did his best not to make the situation any worse.
At least until he heard Peter’s wife come downstairs and remembered his very slight connection with the woman. He held out a tiny bit of hope that she didn’t.
That hope died a very swift death when Neal introduced him to her. Her reaction would have been comical if it wasn’t for Neal and the need to explain what couldn’t be explained.
Except Peter did the unexpected. He flicked out his fingers at Neal and murmured obliviate.
The sound of Peter and Elizabeth’s laughter jarred him out of a stupor.
“Neal, you are such a good person.” El gave him a hug.
“I – uh – am?” He looked from her to Peter, who was smiling at him with tremendous pride, to Harry, who was holding his hand and looking at him like he was a hero. “What?”
Harry stroked the back of his fingers. “We were talking about how we’d met.”
“We were?” Neal could vaguely remember being angry at Peter, but he couldn’t remember why. He didn’t remember the four of them moving out to the patio and sitting down either. There were four glasses of wine on the table, his was nearly empty and so was Peter’s. There was a second bottle opened and breathing, this one the Shiraz he’d brought.
“Yes – you don’t remember telling Peter and Elizabeth how you came to my hotel after stealing back my wallet?” Harry kept up that distracting caress.
Neal shook his head slightly. “I – I guess not.”
“Maybe I need to cut you off.” Peter joked and took away his wine glass. “I hate to tell you, but Mozzie would be most disappointed.”
Neal couldn’t shake the confusion but he tried to defend himself. “I’m not drunk. I don’t get drunk on a half a glass of wine.”
“Half a glass? More like the best part of a bottle, sweetie.” El nudged at him. “Anyway, we should probably move inside and have dinner.”
“Okay.” He looked at Harry, then at Peter. Both men were smiling normally and Neal couldn’t think of a reason why he’d thought they were at odds.
Harry let go of his hand and he stood up, but almost immediately sat back down again. His head was spinning and he was feeling woozy.
“Neal?” Harry, Peter and Elizabeth looked at him, a worried expression on each of their faces.
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” He pushed himself back to his feet and this time he was fine. “Maybe I did have a little too much to drink.”
“You didn’t have anything to eat since breakfast,” Harry noted.
Neal nodded and accepted the excuse – except in his head, it felt like a lie. Wine was like water to him, and not even a whole bottle would be enough to make him phase out like this – even on an empty stomach. Peter gave him a curious look, concern and maybe a touch of guilt in his eyes, but what the hell did Peter have to feel guilty about?
Dinner was delicious and Neal stuck to water, still feeling shaky and out of sync with everything. Before dessert, he excused himself and went up to the bathroom, but not out of any real necessity. He washed his face in cold water and stared at himself in the mirror. It was his face, but he almost didn’t recognize himself. These were his features, but they just as easily could have belonged to another man.
He must have been in the bathroom a long time, because Peter tapped on the door and asked, “Neal, are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine. Just fine. Give me a few?”
“Okay.”
He took a deep breath and wiped the remaining drops of water off his face before opening the door. To his surprise, Peter was still there, waiting.
“All yours.” Neal gestured towards the bathroom.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter rested a hand on his bicep.
Neal nodded, suddenly overcome with emotion. Everything seemed to feel like it was falling apart and he didn’t know why.
“I like him.”
“Who?”
Peter chuckled. “Harry. Who did you think I meant?”
Neal shrugged.
“He seems like a good match for you.”
Neal had a hard time believing Peter. There was something else going on and he desperately wished he could remember what they’d talked about before they had moved out onto the patio. He couldn’t seem to remember anything between the time he rang the doorbell and that point in the evening.
“I’m proud of you, too.”
“Why?” Neal licked his lips and wished for a cold drink.
“Returning Harry’s wallet like that.”
“But I picked Tiny Bill’s pocket, so I’m not such -”
To his shock, Peter put a finger against his lips. “Hush. You did a good thing, that’s all that matters.”
Peter’s eyes were warm and approving and Neal felt his belly twist. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “We’re only using each other.”
Peter stepped back in surprise and Neal instantly regretted his words. “Using each other? What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing bad, really. Harry’s in love with someone he can’t have and I’m too much of a mess to even think about a serious relationship.” Neal hoped Peter wouldn’t ask any more questions.
But of course he did. “He told you this?”
“No, but I can tell. And he’s let some little things slip. I’m not prying.” And please don’t pry, either. “Besides, he’ll be going back to England soon.”
“You’re not going to go with him?”
“Haven’t you been listening to me? We’re not like that. Besides, my life’s here. In New York. You know that. ”
“Really, Neal? You don’t have anything tying you down here. You could go with him.”
The hall light was too dim, because Neal must have misread the pain in Peter’s eyes. “This is my home, Peter. I’ve told you before, I don’t want to leave.” I don’t want to leave the people I love. I don’t want to leave you.
And ironically, Peter asked, “Not even for love?”
“Jesus, Peter – what do I have to do to get this through your thick head. I don’t love Harry. He doesn’t love me. We understand each other and that’s what works.” Peter sighed and Neal gave into the bizarre urge to comfort him. “It’s okay, really.”
“I just want you to be happy, Neal.”
“I know, and I am. And when Harry gets on a plane and goes back to England, I will be unhappy for a little while. But you’ll call me up and tell me about a case that’s making you tear your hair out or we’ll brainstorm about what you should get Elizabeth for her birthday and I won’t be unhappy anymore.”
Peter was about to say something, but the moment was lost when Elizabeth called up, “Someone brought dessert and it looks delicious.”
He clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Don’t be long. I brought a red velvet cake and had to restrain Harry from stealing a piece.”
“Go and tell Elizabeth I’ll be right there. Need a few.”
Peter ducked into the bathroom and Neal let out a small sigh before going downstairs. Whatever was wrong with him seemed to have passed. Everything felt right and normal again.
“Your friends are nice.” Harry thought he sounded like a prat but he had to say something. The silence was uncomfortable.
“They are. I don’t know what would have become of me if not for Peter and Elizabeth.” Neal chuckled drily, “Oh, wait – I do. I would have stayed a master thief – the world’s greatest con man. Lived a life of ease on my ill-gotten gains.”
“And I would have been miserable and ended up leaving New York without ever meeting you.”
Neal gave him a terrified look.
Harry had to laugh. “Don’t worry – I just mean that you returned my wallet. I probably would have just given up and gone back to England if I hadn’t met you. I wasn’t having a lot of fun wandering around New York City on my own, and getting my wallet and ID stolen was just about the last straw. Relax, I’m not in love with you.”
Neal didn’t have the grace to hide his relief. “Thank god. I mean – don’t take it personally, but we’ve never really come out and said anything and I’m not looking for anything permanent.”
And it doesn’t help that you’re as helplessly, hopelessly in love with Peter Burke as I am with Draco Malfoy. Harry banished that thought and continued to talk about their evening. “Anyway – they seem like good people. They care about you.”
Neal nodded. “Yeah – I’ve told you a lot about them, but it doesn’t really come close to the whole picture.”
Harry had to wonder what Neal would say if he found out that Elizabeth Burke threatened to tear him limb from limb.
Bespelled, Neal wandered over to the couch and started petting the Burkes’ dog. He’d remain oblivious to the conversation until Peter released him.
To Harry’s shock, the man turned on him in barely contained rage. “What the hell are you doing dating Neal Caffrey?”
Harry was confused by Peter’s anger. “He’s nice and smart and I really don’t care that he’s a muggle.”
“Yes, Neal is nice and smart and he’s a muggle and none of that matters. You are a married man.”
Ah. “No, not anymore. I guess you haven’t been keeping up with the news. My divorce from Ginny was front page copy on The Daily Prophet for weeks, and sent sales of The Quibbler to stratospheric heights for almost a year.”
Peter made a face. “I have little interest in gossip – regardless of the source. And I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, not sure if Peter was offering sympathy or apologizing. Peter clarified that.
“But still, I don’t like the idea of you dating Neal.” He looked over at the man in question, who was thoroughly absorbed in giving the dog a belly rub.
“Why?”
“Why? You really need to ask that? You’re an Auror. You spend your life fighting against dark magic. That’s why you’re in New York, right? You’re going to draw Neal into something he’s not equipped to handle and he’ll get hurt or worse. He’s had a hard enough time – ”
Harry cut him off. “You’re wrong, Peter. I’m on leave from the Ministry. I handed in my resignation, and while they persuaded me not to make it permanent, I’m positive that I won’t be going back.”
“To England?”
“No, to the Ministry. I’m done with that work. You know what it’s like – you lasted a year before you bolted. No matter what you do, there’s always someone else looking to take over the world.”
Peter shook his head, it was clear he didn’t quite believe him. He was probably remembering the too-young, too-eager, too-ready-to-save-the-world-again young man that he’d worked with.
“Neal’s a muggle – but he’s not mundane. Don’t confuse the two. He attracts trouble just by breathing. The more time you spend with him, the more you’ll realize that.”
“I don’t believe you. Neal’s smart, creative, and thoughtful. He’s got a good life here and I know he doesn’t want to lose it. Maybe you should think a little more of him.”
“I think the world of Neal – we both do.” Peter looked over at his wife, who nodded her agreement. “Did he tell you he’d been kidnapped and held hostage for three months? His last girlfriend – who’d been arrested for multiple homicides – arranged it. He’s all bright surfaces and polished smiles now, but he’s still fragile.”
Neal had told him about the kidnapping, but he’d treated it as a joke. Harry had no idea that he’d been held so long. “Look, you know Neal, and the two – excuse me, the three of you – have a long history, but he’s a competent adult. He can stand on his own two feet.”
Elizabeth spoke for the first time since she’d recognized him. “Yes, we know Neal, and we know that he’s strong and capable of making his own decisions – even when they are ones that can backfire very badly. But our concern is real – you have to see there’s going to come a point when you won’t want to keep your secrets or you won’t be able to keep them. Then what happens?”
Harry’s temper started to rise. “And what about the two of you? You’ve been keeping the same secrets.” He looked at Peter. “Especially you – You are one of the greatest wizards of your generation.”
“And that means nothing. Magic is not part of our lives, Harry. The spell I just cast was the first one since I finished my assignment with your people.”
He didn’t believe him, especially since Peter hadn’t used a wand and that sort of magic takes great skill. But short of calling him a liar, there was nothing he could say. “Look, Neal doesn’t love me and I don’t think he ever will.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Neal’s romantic, Harry. He wants to love; he needs that emotional connection to another person.”
“Which isn’t going to happen with me. He knows that.” Harry didn’t say that Neal already was in love, that he had the emotional connection they thought he needed. It just wasn’t with him.
“If you hurt him, they’ll never find your body.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. The impression he’d formed of Elizabeth Burke was one of rock-solid steadiness – of love and compassion and devotion to her husband. He hadn’t expected her to threaten him over Neal Caffrey. But there she was, a wand produced from somewhere, ready to do battle with him.
“Hon.” Peter held out his hand, as if to take her wand. “You don’t need that. We’ll take care of him the same way we took care of Fowler.”
Harry had no clue what they were talking about, or who Fowler was, but it didn’t sound good. “Look, this is all very unnecessary. Talk to Neal – he’ll confirm what I’ve told you. You have nothing to worry about.”
Maybe he had gotten through to them, because both Burkes seemed to relax. Elizabeth put her wand away. Well, not really away, since she stuck it back in a potted plant. Harry had to smile – wise choice, hiding it in plain sight.
Now they had to fix a more immediate problem. “What are we going to do about Neal?” The dog had gotten tired of the belly rubs and was sleeping on his bed. Neal was still sitting on the couch, hands draped over his knees, and staring vacantly out across the room.
Elizabeth and Peter helped Neal to his feet and as they went out to a small patio, Peter said, “Just follow my lead.”
To Harry’s shock, the man turned on him in barely contained rage. “What the hell are you doing dating Neal Caffrey?”
Harry was confused by Peter’s anger. “He’s nice and smart and I really don’t care that he’s a muggle.”
“Yes, Neal is nice and smart and he’s a muggle and none of that matters. You are a married man.”
Ah. “No, not anymore. I guess you haven’t been keeping up with the news. My divorce from Ginny was front page copy on The Daily Prophet for weeks, and sent sales of The Quibbler to stratospheric heights for almost a year.”
Peter made a face. “I have little interest in gossip – regardless of the source. And I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, not sure if Peter was offering sympathy or apologizing. Peter clarified that.
“But still, I don’t like the idea of you dating Neal.” He looked over at the man in question, who was thoroughly absorbed in giving the dog a belly rub.
“Why?”
“Why? You really need to ask that? You’re an Auror. You spend your life fighting against dark magic. That’s why you’re in New York, right? You’re going to draw Neal into something he’s not equipped to handle and he’ll get hurt or worse. He’s had a hard enough time – ”
Harry cut him off. “You’re wrong, Peter. I’m on leave from the Ministry. I handed in my resignation, and while they persuaded me not to make it permanent, I’m positive that I won’t be going back.”
“To England?”
“No, to the Ministry. I’m done with that work. You know what it’s like – you lasted a year before you bolted. No matter what you do, there’s always someone else looking to take over the world.”
Peter shook his head, it was clear he didn’t quite believe him. He was probably remembering the too-young, too-eager, too-ready-to-save-the-world-again young man that he’d worked with.
“Neal’s a muggle – but he’s not mundane. Don’t confuse the two. He attracts trouble just by breathing. The more time you spend with him, the more you’ll realize that.”
“I don’t believe you. Neal’s smart, creative, and thoughtful. He’s got a good life here and I know he doesn’t want to lose it. Maybe you should think a little more of him.”
“I think the world of Neal – we both do.” Peter looked over at his wife, who nodded her agreement. “Did he tell you he’d been kidnapped and held hostage for three months? His last girlfriend – who’d been arrested for multiple homicides – arranged it. He’s all bright surfaces and polished smiles now, but he’s still fragile.”
Neal had told him about the kidnapping, but he’d treated it as a joke. Harry had no idea that he’d been held so long. “Look, you know Neal, and the two – excuse me, the three of you – have a long history, but he’s a competent adult. He can stand on his own two feet.”
Elizabeth spoke for the first time since she’d recognized him. “Yes, we know Neal, and we know that he’s strong and capable of making his own decisions – even when they are ones that can backfire very badly. But our concern is real – you have to see there’s going to come a point when you won’t want to keep your secrets or you won’t be able to keep them. Then what happens?”
Harry’s temper started to rise. “And what about the two of you? You’ve been keeping the same secrets.” He looked at Peter. “Especially you – You are one of the greatest wizards of your generation.”
“And that means nothing. Magic is not part of our lives, Harry. The spell I just cast was the first one since I finished my assignment with your people.”
He didn’t believe him, especially since Peter hadn’t used a wand and that sort of magic takes great skill. But short of calling him a liar, there was nothing he could say. “Look, Neal doesn’t love me and I don’t think he ever will.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Neal’s romantic, Harry. He wants to love; he needs that emotional connection to another person.”
“Which isn’t going to happen with me. He knows that.” Harry didn’t say that Neal already was in love, that he had the emotional connection they thought he needed. It just wasn’t with him.
“If you hurt him, they’ll never find your body.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. The impression he’d formed of Elizabeth Burke was one of rock-solid steadiness – of love and compassion and devotion to her husband. He hadn’t expected her to threaten him over Neal Caffrey. But there she was, a wand produced from somewhere, ready to do battle with him.
“Hon.” Peter held out his hand, as if to take her wand. “You don’t need that. We’ll take care of him the same way we took care of Fowler.”
Harry had no clue what they were talking about, or who Fowler was, but it didn’t sound good. “Look, this is all very unnecessary. Talk to Neal – he’ll confirm what I’ve told you. You have nothing to worry about.”
Maybe he had gotten through to them, because both Burkes seemed to relax. Elizabeth put her wand away. Well, not really away, since she stuck it back in a potted plant. Harry had to smile – wise choice, hiding it in plain sight.
Now they had to fix a more immediate problem. “What are we going to do about Neal?” The dog had gotten tired of the belly rubs and was sleeping on his bed. Neal was still sitting on the couch, hands draped over his knees, and staring vacantly out across the room.
Elizabeth and Peter helped Neal to his feet and as they went out to a small patio, Peter said, “Just follow my lead.”
“What are you thinking about?” Neal interrupted his musings.
“Nothing important.”
“I hope Peter wasn’t too overbearing. He can be a little protective.”
You don’t know the half of it.
Neal knew his time with Harry was running short. Not that Harry had said anything, but Neal was good at reading him. There was a tension in the other man that seemed all too reminiscent of his own feelings when he’d been on Cape Verde. An inescapable longing to go home, no matter what troubles that would bring.
Like he’d told Peter, he’d miss Harry. The sex was better than good – neither of them felt the need to fall into assigned roles. Sometime he’d top, other times Harry would. Neal had never been one for random hook-ups, but there was something to be said for uncomplicated sexual pleasure and it was nice to share a life with someone, even for a little while.
A week after that strange dinner at Peter and Elizabeth’s, they’d gone clubbing at a new place in Chelsea. Harry on the dance floor was something to be savored, especially in a skin-tight white tee shirt that showed off his nipples and jeans that cupped his ass like a lover. Neal never thought of himself as particularly kinky, but he had the almost overpowering urge to do things to Harry on the dance floor that just might get the both arrested.
Harry’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses and he’d smiled, a dirty twist of his lips that made Neal wonder if he could read his thoughts. The song – something throbbing and sensual – ended and Harry took his hand, pulling him off the dance floor. The lust that infected Neal’s brain was contagious and he let Harry pull him towards the men’s room.
Neal wasn’t normally a habitué of men’s rooms in gay dance clubs, he was too fastidious for that, but the backbeat from the latest track the DJ was spinning and the challenge in Harry’s bright green eyes was an irresistible combination. Harry led the way past two men in leather humping each other against the sink, but it was Neal who pushed Harry into an open stall, slammed the door shut and shoved Harry against it.
He humped him for a few moments, enjoying the pressure of that perfect ass – hard, round apples – against his cock, the soft denim catching on the button fly of his leather trousers with each movement.
When it became too much, Neal pulled, and Harry’s own button fly parted. He shoved the pants down the man’s thighs, and ran his fingers between those ass cheeks. The flesh was hot and damp with sweat and as Neal rubbed a little harder, he realized there was lube there, too.
“You’re such a dirty little boy, prepping yourself like some fuck-slut.” Neal heard the words coming out of his mouth but he couldn’t quite believe he said them. But his mouth disregarding his brain’s attempt at censorship, as filth kept spewing forth.
“You want my cock?”
Harry nodded, his cheek sliding against the dirty metal stall door.
“Say it, say it.”
“I want your cock, I want you to fuck me.”
“Here, in the john? Like a whore?”
Harry breathed a single word, “Please.”
Neal’s hand shook as he pulled out his wallet and found a condom. It was a miracle that he didn’t strangle his dick rolling it on.
Despite the lust, despite the near-seismic urgency, Neal took care of Harry, prepping and stretching him until Harry was whining and begging and rutting against the stall door.
Finally, Neal positioned his cock against that sweet, tight hole and pushed. All the careful preparation was worth it as he sank deep, almost to his balls.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
And Neal did just that, he didn’t have the will, the control anymore to be nice, to be a gentleman. He fucked Harry’s ass like a damned machine, hands clamped on his hips, hips whipping back and forth, ramming him hard against the door.
Harry just kept pushing back, taking more and more until he came, his hole clamping down on Neal’s cock, impossibly hot and tight and he orgasmed until the world when white.
It might have been his heart or maybe someone was pounding on the stall door, but Neal finally came back to himself. He pulled out of Harry, wincing a little, and disposed of the condom.
“You okay?”
Harry turned around, his hair plastered to his face, his glasses askew and his eyes glowing like emeralds under the ugly fluorescent lights. He kissed him, murmuring, “I’ve never been better.”
It took a little maneuvering in the tight quarters, but they managed to make themselves decent. Neal’s hands were still shaking a bit as he buttoned his pants and straightened his shirt.
Harry looked delicious and Neal regretted not taking more time. He wanted to play with Harry, to explore the mysteries of that body, bring him close over and over again, only to pull back and make him suffer so beautifully.
Neal stopped, shocked at his train of thought. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t really dominant, he certainly wasn’t kinky. It must be the music.
“Want to go back to my room?” Harry whispered in his ear. “The hotel’s just around the corner and you can do anything you want to me.”
Neal looked at the other man, even more shocked. Harry laughed and the spell broke. “Sorry, you should see your face!”
Still disoriented and a little woozy from his spectacular orgasm, Neal swatted at Harry. “Don’t do those things to me.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” They fought their way through the club, avoiding the bodies in constant motion. The late summer night was still warm, but the oppressive humidity from early in the season had been replaced by a cool breeze from the river. In another few weeks, it would be downright chilly this time of night.
They ended up at Harry’s hotel, arms slung around each other. The desk clerk greeted them with a smile and a bit of news. “You’ve got a visitor, Mr. Potter. He’s waiting in the lounge. He didn’t leave a name, though.”
Harry dropped his arm and straightened his tee shirt, suddenly and quite obviously upset. “I can’t imagine who’d come looking for me.”
Neal tried to make light of the moment. “You haven’t lost your wallet again?”
“No, of course I haven’t.” He patted his hip pocket and came up empty. “Shit.”
Neal grinned and handed the purloined wallet back to him. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
Harry gave him a look that was too much like the one Peter used to give him when he’d pull that same stunt – exasperation and fondness mingled in equal quantities.
“Want me to come with you or would you prefer if I left?”
“Would you mind?”
“No, not at all.” Harry had been married, and he’d hinted to Neal that he wasn’t out of the closet to many people. If they went into the lounge together, dressed as they were, it would take much to draw the right conclusion. He’d regretted not doing a better job of mauling Harry in the men’s room, not putting his mark on him, but now he was glad for his self-restraint.
“Thanks for understanding.” Harry leaned in and kissed him.
The kiss was sweet and gentle and tasted of sadness. Neal had the inescapable feeling that this might just be goodbye.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Neal nodded and stood there as Harry went into the lounge. He didn’t leave, though. The desk clerk was involved in a deep and meaningful conversation with her girlfriend and Neal took the opportunity to slip into the maintenance closet at the far end of the lobby. He’d scoped it out on one of his early visits – old habits were hard to break – and discovered that it opened into the lounge area.
He opened the door a fraction, just enough to see Harry’s visitor. The man was in profile to him, and even in the lounge’s dim lighting, Neal could tell that he was about Harry’s age, tall, with nearly white-blond hair and strong features. Good looking, but not breathtakingly so. More like a thoroughbred, with his hair receding from a wide, aristocratic brow.
What was a hell of a lot more interesting than his looks was the man’s posture. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he was leaning into Harry’s personal space. Harry’s own body language was equally conflicted.
It was a pity he couldn’t hear what the two men had to say.
Draco Malfoy was the last person he’d ever expected to find waiting for him at his hotel.
And New York City was the last place he’d ever expect to find Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
Harry didn’t want him in his hotel room. “Here is fine.”
Malfoy gave an annoyed huff and nodded. Of course, to Harry’s annoyance and no small concern, he pulled out his wand, gave a discreet wave and muttered muffliato.
“Don’t do that again.”
“If you were more cooperative, I wouldn’t have had to in the first place.”
Harry closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Why are you here?”
“To give you this.” Malfoy handed him a letter. The parchment was heavy, new sheepskin – but the weight was more than physical. There were a dozen charms laid on it, all keyed to his own magic.
He was in no rush to open it. “Do you know what’s in here?”
Malfoy said nothing.
“Should I be worried?”
“Look, Potter – I’ve travelled a long way to deliver it. Open the damn thing already.”
Harry suppressed a smile. Jerking Malfoy’s chain was as rewarding as ever. “Why you?”
“Because they asked, all right? Because they said, ‘Mister Malfoy, remember your position here, remember what you owe and to whom you owe it.’ So here I am, a glorified errand boy.”
That angered Harry. Draco had paid for what he did and he didn’t like it that people were unable or unwilling to let the past go.
“For Merlin’s sake, don’t pity me, Potter. It’s not term yet and frankly hanging around Hogwarts when the place is empty isn’t something I particularly enjoy.”
Harry nodded and turned his attention back to the envelope in his hands. The seal pulsed with magic and as he slipped his finger between the wax and the parchment, it took a tiny drop of blood. The seal dissolved with a dramatic sparkle and Harry was grateful that the lounge was empty.
The contents of the letter was as simple and as straightforward a communication from the wizarding world could be, which meant it was filled with florid courtesies and nearly impenetrable formalities. But in short, he, Harry Potter, currently Head Auror (on sabbatical), was being offered a position as the permanent and full-time teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts. If he so deigned to accept this position, the school would appoint him as head of Gryffindor House. And in a few years’ time, should he desire it, his name would be most strongly considered by the Board of Governors as Headmaster when the current holder of that position retired.
Harry stared at the words. He wanted this so badly, as much as he’d once wanted to be a Auror. Every term, he’d come and give a few lessons, and each time it was harder and harder to leave. If it wasn’t for Draco …
“You do know what this is, right?”
Now he answered. “You’d be the new DADA teacher.”
Harry nodded. “And the new head of Gryffindor.”
Draco clenched his jaw. “That I didn’t know.”
“Are you okay with it?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“Why do you care?”
“If I take the job, we’ll see each other every day.”
Draco sighed and whatever fight was in him seemed to collapse. “It’s all right, Potter. Even if I didn’t owe you, it would be fine.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“No?” The man raised one elegant eyebrow at him. “You could have let me die. You could have testified against my parents at the Wizengamot.”
“Your mother saved my life, near the end.”
“And my father did his best to end it many times before that.”
“Look – that’s the past. I’ve spent the last sixteen years trying not to relive it. Are you sure you won’t have a problem working with me?”
“No, Potter. I won’t.”
There was something in Draco’s posture that confirmed his words. Maybe it was the tilt of his head, the way his body leaned towards him that spoke volumes.
“Then I think I want to do this.” He took a deep breath. “No – I do want to do this.”
“If you sign the document, they’ll know right away.”
“I don’t have a quill handy.”
Draco laughed. “No, I don’t suppose you’d be able to hide one in those – ” He waved a hand at his denims. “Trousers.”
What? Before Harry could process the idea that Draco noticed his clothing, the man produced a pen. It was something typical Malfoy, heavy and ornate and probably a hundred years old. He scrawled his name across the bottom of the parchment and watched as the text of the offer was transformed into equally stilted words of a contract.
Harry had little patience for such antiquated formalities, but he’d have to learn to deal with it. Maybe someday he’d have the chance to change things.
Probably not.
“Come on – I have a portkey to take us back to Hogsmead. It’s set to go off at one AM.”
“No, you’ll have to go without me. I’ll go back the way I came.”
“You’re kidding me, Potter. You’re going to fly in one of those aluminium cans the muggles use?”
“Yes, Malfoy, I am. I have some things to do before I leave.” Like say goodbye to Neal.
“Term starts in a week.”
“And I’ll be there.” He tapped the letter against his palm. “I’m already committed, remember.”
“Then I’m off.” Draco took the letter and tucked it inside his coat. “See you next week.”
As Draco turned to leave, Harry called out. “Do you think, maybe, this time we might become friends?”
Draco smiled. “You’re a git, Harry Potter. But maybe…”
“Okay, good work everyone.”
Peter stood at the back of the conference room, watching with pleasure as Clinton led the wrap-up meeting for a major case the division had just closed. They’d broken an international identity theft ring that had stolen tens of thousands of credit card numbers, selling them on the black market and funneling the profits to terrorists. Arrests had been made in twelve countries and even though there’d soon be other criminals waiting to exploit security flaws in the global banking system, the team could take pride in the work they’d done over the past few months.
Peter enjoyed watching Clinton manage the operation, run the team, and interface with a dozen different law enforcement agencies with differing agendas. He had worked the agents like dogs, but worked just as hard. It would be a pleasure to announce his promotion next week.
It was unusual to keep the same core group of agents; the Bureau was a meritocracy and didn’t hesitate to break teams up if it meant pushing an agenda. But Peter had fought to keep Clinton and Diana here, giving them both opportunities they’d never get, even with more senior titles, in smaller cities. It also helped that Clinton and Diana were accomplished wizards and the powers that be knew that if those skills were needed, they’d be needed in New York.
“Hey, boss, look what the cat dragged in.” Diana called his attention to what was going on in the bullpen.
A cluster of agents and civilian personnel were standing around, talking to Neal and Peter was hit with an almost overpowering sense of déjà vu. Over the last year, how many times had he walked out of his office and stared down at the bullpen, expecting to see Neal. Expecting but never finding him.
Neal looked up. He was smiling, but even from this distance, Peter could see something in his eyes. He crooked two fingers and pointed, “Caffrey, my office – now.”
Everyone laughed as Neal made a show of dragging his feet, exaggerating his reluctance as he climbed the stairs.
Peter kept a smile on his face until Neal was in his office. He closed the door and sat down, waiting for Neal to say something.
Neal didn’t oblige. He busied himself with the brim of his hat.
Peter cracked first, “So, what’s up?”
“Got anything for me?”
Ah.
“Possibly. We wrapped the big identity theft case – ”
“Yeah, I saw the press conference. I need to congratulate Clinton.” Neal sighed. “Anything else going on?”
Peter made a show of looking through the box of cold-ish cases he still insisted on keeping in his office, despite his position as ASAC. “Remember the Pederson accounting fraud? That’s still unsolved.”
“And it’s going to remain unsolved.” Neal didn’t even pretend interest. Back in the day, when Neal had no say in his assignments, he’d sweated hours over the Pederson file and came up empty.
“How about this one? It’s not a cold case, but it’s not a priority for the team either. Do you know who Etienne LaValle is?”
“Of course – bad boy rock star designer. Made a fortune from torn tee shirts printed with obscene gestures. What’s White Collar’s interest? Is someone counterfeiting his awful clothing?”
“Nothing so interesting. Last month, his collection of personal … objects was confiscated by customs under the global ivory importation ban.” Peter bit his lip and tried not to laugh.
“Personal … objects?” Neal mimicked his exact tone and the slight hesitation between the two words. “Ivory?”
Peter gave up and chuckled before handing Neal the folder.
Neal scanned through it and looked up, his eyes sparkling with humor. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He had a set of ivory dildos in his carry-on?”
“He says that they are legitimately acquired antiques. Customs thinks the provenance and the documentation is sketchy. Fish and Game passed it off to us.”
“And you’d like my opinion?”
Peter shrugged. “If you’re interested.”
“I don’t suppose I can see the objects in question?”
“Don’t see why not, but they don’t leave the customs locker.”
“Peter!” Neal gave him that slightly exasperated why don’t you trust me look.
They shared a laugh. Peter checked the time and it was close to noon. “Feel like grabbing a bite with me?” He figured Neal needed to talk – he didn’t casually stop by the office like this.
“You’re buying?”
He laughed. “What else is new?”
They found themselves back at the bistro where Neal had dropped his bombshell a few weeks ago and per their usual mode, they talked about nothing important until after they’d finished eating. Peter watched Neal over the edge of his coffee cup. He had a sinking feeling he knew why Neal came to see him.
“Harry went back to England a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry.” It seemed such a weak thing to say. And it was something of a lie.
Neal shrugged off his sympathy. “It’s okay. Like I told you, I knew he wasn’t staying in New York and I have no interest in going to England.”
“Did he ask you?”
“Ask me what?”
“To go with him.”
“No – it never came up.”
Peter sipped his coffee and searched for the right words. “His departure – it seems kind of sudden.” He wondered if there was some impending disaster that only Harry Potter could prevent. “Was he recalled to active duty?”
“No – he said that he was finally offered the teaching position he’d wanted. He had to get home right away – classes were starting in a week. Some fancy co-educational boarding school in the Scottish Highlands. Told him to watch out for the teenage girls, they can be relentless.”
Peter had to smile at the memory of one very relentless teenage girl. “And you? Are you okay?”
Neal shrugged again. “Yeah – I am.”
Peter raised an eyebrow at him, silently calling bullshit.
“Okay, so it hurts a bit. I liked him. But I think I liked having someone to share the nights with even more.”
Peter’s heart broke a little at the loneliness on his friend’s face. This might be the wrong time, the worst time, but he couldn’t keep quiet. “You don’t have to be alone, Neal.”
Neal looked at him, his eyes wide, maybe a touch confused. Before he could come back with some witty retort, Peter gently placed his hand on Neal’s. “A few years ago, when Keller had kidnapped Elizabeth, you told me that you stayed because of me.”
Neal opened his mouth but Peter cut him off. “Yes, and there were a lot of other reasons, but when I asked you why you didn’t leave with Mozzie, you looked me right in the eye and said ‘you’. Whatever happened afterwards – and there was some pretty bad crap there – I’ve never forgotten that. Back then, you stayed because of me. After your kidnapping and the commutation, you stayed in New York. You could have gone anywhere, done anything, but you stayed. I think you stayed because of me.”
Peter could feel Neal’s pulse race.
“You’re not the only one who stayed in New York, Neal.” He took a deep breath and committed himself. “I stayed because of you, too.”
“Peter?”
“El and I – our marriage is strong. Our hearts are strong, too. I’ve never hidden my feelings about you from her and she’s always understood and accepted – hell, she told me I was crazy for not saying anything to you. But – but I never thought that you’d – .” Peter swallowed hard. “I should probably be shot – this is so crass. Harry just left and I’m …”
“Offering me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Neal turned his hand, capturing Peter’s fingers. “I can’t pinpoint when I realized that I loved you – maybe when I woke up with a splitting headache and remembered that you stole the security tape from the Hauser Clinic. Or maybe when I thought you had Kate. I felt so betrayed. But I knew I loved you when I was about to walk away and fly off with Kate. Why do you think I turned back? I couldn’t leave. Not back then, not now.”
Peter couldn’t help but remember what Neal had once said to him. It was something meant to be trivial, part of an undercover operation, but he’d never forgotten it. And it never felt more like the truth. Life certainly did come down to a few moments, and this was one of them. He ran his thumb of the back of Neal’s fingers, feeling the heat and the life there.
“I hope you never do.”
“Then I’ll stay. Forever.”
Tags:
- character: elizabeth burke,
- character: neal caffrey,
- character: omc,
- character: peter burke,
- crossover: harry potter/white collar,
- genre: alternative universe,
- genre: angst,
- genre: coming out,
- genre: crossover,
- genre: friendship,
- genre: romance,
- genre: slash,
- pairing: neal/omc,
- pairing: peter/elizabeth,
- pairing: peter/neal,
- type: birthday fic,
- type: crossover,
- type: fan fiction,
- type: longfic,
- white collar,
- year: 2014
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2014-09-19 02:03 pm (UTC)Elizabeth's reaction to Harry is an utter hoot, Peter's use of magic is so Peter and the sex is so hot!
Fantastic job.
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Date: 2014-09-19 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 02:19 pm (UTC)Oh, and OMG, that moment when Peter cast the obliviate charm, my heart just broke.
And so much more, but I forget.
LOVED THIS!!! XDDD
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Date: 2014-09-19 02:31 pm (UTC)My friend,
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Date: 2014-09-19 02:43 pm (UTC)It is quite interesting - normally, he's the first character you'd cast as magical. But this makes it so much more interesting!
Nope, it seemed canon-consistent to me :D (or should i say magic-consistent? technically this is what the harry potter fandom would call EWE - ending without epilogue)
Ahhh, I should have figured :P I mostly ship Dramione for the potential for *seriously* messed up relationship. I have no idea why, but those intrigue me (I can't get Neal/Rachel out of my head. Literally - it won't get onto paper. Hopefully that changes soon.)
Am I talking too much? Shut me up if I'm talking too much. :P
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Date: 2014-09-19 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 03:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-20 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-20 12:25 pm (UTC)Mozzie already knows. It was a very good thing that Mozzie was in Detroit with Mr. Jeffries, because he would have been nowhere as circumspect as Peter or Elizabeth.
Mozzie and Hagrid have a past. It involves baby dragons.
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Date: 2014-09-19 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 05:23 pm (UTC)It was a joy to write. I can just imagine Neal's reaction when he finds out that Peter and Elizabeth are wizards!
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Date: 2014-09-19 06:40 pm (UTC)When this happened --
Peter blinked and a dozen expressions crossed his face – most of them completely unreadable. Neal’s heart skipped at the last one, which looked too much like grief.
-- my heart broke open. That's so much what I love in this pairing: that they love each other so deeply and that the grief in not having one another only rarely comes to the surface like that, but when it does, it's so powerful.
This description was FABULOUS:
New York was both a revelation and a disaster. Magic was everywhere, the streets were thick with it. But no one seemed to be aware of what was right before them. Whores of all sexes whispered to him in Parseltongue, half the pigeon population were animagi. The foul odor that rose out of the subway vents was not generated by a hundred years of continuously operated machinery, but the collective flatulence from a nest of basilisks that fed off the garbage so casually tossed onto the train tracks.
I love how you melded the worlds there so beautifully!!!
El blurting out, "Holy shit, you're dating Harry Potter!" was hands-down my favorite part, though! I cackled and clapped! :-DDD
Thank you for setting up the H/D, too! That was so sweet of you. <3
I loved the end! I'm so glad that UST got out in the open after Harry left, and I thought that scene was just so touching. (I might have clutched my heart some.)
Thank you for this, my wonderful friend! Thank you so much!!!
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Date: 2014-09-19 06:53 pm (UTC)I am so delighted - thrilled beyond words - that you loved this. It was such a joy to write - to play in your world for a little while.
And I don't know how you did it, but you managed to capture MY favorite moments in quoting back your favorite bits... especially the description of Magical New York.
Love you much, my friend and happy birthday again!
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Date: 2014-09-19 07:08 pm (UTC)Love that just about everyone BUT Neal is magical. He doesn't need magic. He's Neal. And I'm sure Peter realizes that if Neal ever found out about the magical world... well... kid/candy shop comes to mind.
I like the little drop about the merpeople in Central Park.
Also... the idea of Neal being part veela is an interesting one. He does have that allure about him.
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Date: 2014-09-19 07:11 pm (UTC)I had been toying with the idea of a HP/WC crossover story for about a year or so and finally decided to write it. I think the long percolation really helped - I started it a week ago Thursday and it pretty much grabbed me and wouldn't let go.
The Merpeople thing - that is definitely a shout out to you and
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Date: 2014-09-19 08:42 pm (UTC)I especially liked that Harry thought Neal looked like he could be part Veela. To me it is an intriguing idea that Neal could have a magical heritage and not know about it. : )
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Date: 2014-09-19 11:49 pm (UTC)And while Neal-as-Veela would be lovely to explore - in this world, Neal is non-magical. In fact, the original (and very spoilery) title of the story was "The Only Muggle in New York".
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Date: 2014-09-20 01:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 09:11 pm (UTC)LOL
This is a super amazing fic and I just absolutely love it.
SO SO SO SO good. I am so glad LQ directed us here ♥
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Date: 2014-09-19 11:51 pm (UTC)I am so glad you enjoyed it.
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Date: 2014-09-20 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-09-22 04:42 pm (UTC)I hadn't given Harry Dresden a thought - but wouldn't that be an interesting crossover? Although there were jokes around the time of the S2 mid-season finale that Harry Dresden had murdered Sanford Blatch.
I may write a few short timestamps for it. But nothing definite in my head so far.
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Date: 2014-09-20 03:31 am (UTC)I love love love your description of Magical New York. Something so incredibly real and true (magic everywhere and nobody sees it, they don't notice - how don't they notice? How real is that?) that took my breath away. Gorgeous. Absolutely.
Thank you, for making it ok in the end. Because, as always, these boys and their "but he doesn't" on both sides just makes my heart ACHE. And for HP, too.
I'm not sure why I have an inability to form a connection to HP fandom. It's weird! I fangirl EVERYTHING.
Anyway, I love this. I love the awkward lunch and Bad Ass Elizabeth and invading Mozzie and fragile Neal and powerful Peter and the 21st floor full of magic.
:D
I've probably taken enough of your time now. Thank you for writing and for sharing!
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Date: 2014-09-22 04:57 pm (UTC)I am not particularly fannish about Harry Potter - I loved the books and movies but they don't resonate with me, fannishly. This was something I wrote (and enjoyed) because of a friendship - I might play in the 'verse some more - but almost definitely from the WC side. Maybe what happens when Neal realizes that there's magic and it's the one thing he has no talent for at all!
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Date: 2014-09-20 07:48 am (UTC)I am glad you didn't put a spoiler in the description because you took me by surprise, despite Neal's new friend being called Harry!
I imagine you had a blast writing this, I certainly did reading it. Loved the wand tucked into the potted plant, and of course Peter is as powerful as Dumbledore!
Thank you.
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Date: 2014-09-22 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-20 02:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-22 04:29 pm (UTC)And thank you for letting me know I got Harry's voice right - I was worried about that!
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Date: 2014-09-20 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-22 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-23 12:22 am (UTC)So given that, I did enjoy it. I thought it was an interesting way of getting Peter and Neal to finally find each other, through the other man, who just happened to be The Boy Who Lived, which of course added some interesting twists. And, Peter with magic! HAHAHAHAHA! That's a wonderfully crazy idea.
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Date: 2014-09-23 12:36 am (UTC)(Goes to check the comm post...)
Nope - the comm post is correct. Pets the fuzzy little bear on the head.
But anyway, thank you! I am so glad, despite the snafu, that you enjoyed it. It was a hellalot of fun to write. And the working title of the story was "The Only Muggle in New York". Neal - our WC magical Boy Wonder who can do EVERYTHING - is the only muggle in the WC unit and there's magic EVERYWHERE.
Someday, I'll write what happens when his discovers that Peter's really a very talented wizard.
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Date: 2014-09-23 10:19 pm (UTC)And, yes I would LOVE to find out what happens when Neal discovers that Peter is really a very talented wizard!
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Date: 2015-10-15 09:14 pm (UTC)AND I'M GLAD I DID! This was fabulous! I love that Neal is the only muggle in a sea of magic users. Kinda figures that the most special person in their world is special precisely because he can't do magic, and yet seems to produce magical results seemingly out of nowhere.
There was so much to love about this story, but I think the best part for me was just the way you described New York and how magic permeates the city. You've always had a knack for descriptive language, but this time you outdid yourself. Just overall, the story grabbed me with its deft prose and wouldn't let go.
I'll read anything else you want to write in this 'verse (especially the part where Neal finally finds out about magic). :)
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Date: 2015-10-15 10:23 pm (UTC)And I do have to say that I really did enjoy writing Magical New York. It has always just seemed that there are many things in New York that are beyond our normal, muggle perception.