24K9
A daily(?) kinktober Tumblr fic. Will post to AO3 on American Thanksgiving, 2023.
Harry is a K9 unit Auror. Draco is the Ministry Kennelmaster. How could that possibly lead to anything?
Tags: collaring, top Draco, sensual pet play, touch starved Harry, bathing, shaving, rescue dog feels, other tags TBA, maybe dark draco ending?, maybe werewolves?, definitely coming untouched though, just blasting rope man
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Chapter One
“I assure you, Auror Potter,” drawled the Patronus, speaking even before it found its full form, “there is nothing wrong with your partner.”
Malfoy’s tone was patronising, as though he were telling Harry that the monsters under his bed weren’t real, and to go back to sleep.
Next to Harry’s desk, his ‘partner’ had managed to catch his tail and was currently gnawing on it with nothing short of ardour. K9 Auror Wurst, aka RottWurst, clamped down on his fluffy tail so hard, Harry swore he heard a crunch.
The bright fog condensed into a direwolf the size of a modest pony. It was the perfect symbol for Draco Malfoy. A pale, leggy, sharp-toothed relic of another time.
“And I assure you,” Harry spat, “Kennelmaster Malfoy, that this mutt’s fucking touched in the head.”
The mutt in question was eighty-plus pounds of Rottweiler-poodle abomination. He looked like a St Bernard had dug into an avalanche, missed the humans, and hit a thousand-volt power line instead. The curly white fur on his belly was caked with mud, and his brown muzzle still had bits of grass clippings on it. The rest of him was black, save his brown eyebrows and speckled ears.
“He keeps alerting to sex magic, not dark magic. It’s fucking embarrassing. Dragged me across Hyde Park. I had to use a Confundus on him to get him back to the office.”
The direwolf was so still that Harry blinked twice to make sure the shape wasn’t burned into his retinas. It was a bloody showboat of a Patronus.
It was so bright that it brought out the dinginess of Harry’s office. The yellow carpet had a pale brown trail between the door and Harry’s desk chair. The corners of the ceiling had cobwebs, and the baseboards held an unhealthy amount of dust.
The fresh dog piss on the floor didn’t help things.
“I mean, he’s not worthless,” Harry added. “But Robards said he can’t reassign him to Vice. That he doesn’t have that authority. So it must be you who has to do it.”
It was a little risky to bypass Robards the way he had, contacting Malfoy directly. He probably should have made an appointment with his assistant or something.
But he’d been angry, so he’d pulled an interdepartmental priority Howler out of his desk and sent it.
There was probably a DMLE protocol for contacting a member of the Wizengamot. There was a DMLE protocol for everything but wiping his arse. Actually, they probably had one for that, too.
Harry blinked again. His eyes were dry. He was on hour seven of a twelve-hour shift. After this, he’d get another coffee.
The direwolf shifted its weight, then leaned back, hindquarters high, in a deep stretch. Its paws spread out in front of it.
Harry wondered if Malfoy was actually stretching. And what that might look like.
It’d been years since he’d seen Malfoy in person. Just in the papers, and only in the background of Wizengamot photos. He’d been called to his Wizengamot seat the day after his thirtieth birthday, having met the minimum age. They hadn’t called Hermione to hers until she was thirty-two. She’d die mad about that.
The direwolf laid down, then yawned.
Harry yawned.
Wurst yawned. Then farted.
Harry thought to check the time. 2:30 AM, according to his wristwatch. He’d been on the clock for fourteen hours. Not seven.
“Shit,” Harry said.
He’d woken a member of the Wizengamot at 2:30 AM. And an important one.
The direwolf sighed and tucked its muzzle under its paw. Harry held his breath. Maybe Malfoy would fall asleep.
Maybe he’d doze off, and he’d think he dreamt he got a Howler in the middle of the night from a burnout beat cop at least six rungs below him. Maybe.
The direwolf sighed again, then drifted away like will-o'-the-wisps on the wind.
Maybe Malfoy wouldn’t report this.
Maybe.
Maybe Robards wouldn’t kill him.
He drummed his fingers on his desk. If he did get written up, it’d be his sixth this year. Two of them were for failing to meet dress code, but the shaving regulations were stupid, and the hygiene one was just weird.
Still.
Wurst looked at him. He looked at Wurst.
Nothing would happen. His talk with Malfoy had only lasted a few seconds. He’d think it was a dream.
It would be fine.
“It’ll be fine,” Harry told Wurst, ignoring the sweat on his palms.
Wurst’s nostrils flared, and then an ivory envelope slid under the door. It sat on the grimy carpet for a moment, then folded itself into a swan. With a few wingbeats, it landed on Harry’s desk and unfolded itself.
Inside was a business card.
Draco L Malfoy
Wizengamot Member, Kennelmaster
Warminster
BA13 4SH
UK
“Shit,” Harry said.
He flipped the card over. On the back was an appointment date and time. Tomorrow.
“Fuck.”
Robards was going to kill him.
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Don't want to put this on the post itself for risk of derailing it, but that post the other day about Terry Pratchett's early work really stuck in my mind. OP had sent in an ask saying that they heard some of Pratchett's earlier works had problematic elements (not unusual for a male english writer in the 80s) and they weren't sure whether to go ahead with reading the work anyway.
What I really want to ask that person, or indeed all persons who are hesitating over whether or not to read problematic works or works by imperfect authors:
What are you worried about happening, if you read a work with problematic elements?
I'm worried that if I read this art, I will run across hateful images or words that will shock or upset me
I'm worried that I will spend money on a work of art that then financially supports a bad person, and that thought makes me uncomfortable or upset
I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and comment or react on them, and other people will see what I am reading and will think less of me because of it, or will assume that I hold the same bad beliefs as the author
I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and I will enjoy them, and the author will find out about my enjoyment and feel emboldened to do bad things because of it
I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and their badness will contaminate my way of thinking and make me a worse person in turn
Because these are all different answers and some of them are more actionable than others
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