Lay These Storms To Rest
by imp

Lay These Storms To Rest

imp

Summary

PK's been an Auror for long enough to know that he's suited for research and desk work. Being assigned to work with Carey, who's known throughout the Montreal Aurors for his undercover work, changes that. A lot.

Notes

None

Chapter 1

PK's never thought about Carey Price much. He's been an Auror for three and a half years, ever since graduating from the Ontario School of Magic (Canada is an awesome place full of creativity and great people, but their magic schools aren't very creatively named at all), and Carey's been one of their top field Aurors for at least half that time. But PK doesn't work in the field much at all despite supposedly being fully classified for it, so he doesn't see much of Carey. Aside from noticing he's hot - which PK thinks is perfectly normal, really, because he is - PK doesn't see much of Carey at all.

The one day Martin pulls PK into his office and says, "You're twenty-one."

"Yes?" PK says. He's learned it's best to anticipate what Martin's going to try to say and say it before him, but he has no idea where this is going, or how it'll end with anything but PK being fired.

"Putting you in the field at seventeen was a mistake." Martin purses his lips. "But if you're not ready now, we might as well retire you to a desk job. Saves us money."

The Montreal Auror Division is one of the worst-funded in the country, despite their storied history. PK nods. "I'm happy to go out in the field," he says. "Put me where you need me."

"Excellent." Martin snaps his folder shut. "I have an assignment for you, and Price has just scared off another partner. I'm putting you two together. We could use your case-building skills on this. And maybe someone as congenial as you will make Price pull his head out of his ass."

It's the most words PK's ever heard Martin say at the same time, and he's a little terrified. He blinks at Martin and says, "Um, sir?"

"Spit it out, Subban."

"By Price, do you mean Carey Price?"

"Who else? I've moved your things to the desk next to him. Have fun." Martin pauses, then smiles a little. It looks kind of evil. "And good luck."

"Thank you, sir," PK says. He does his best not to look afraid as he leaves.

He knows where Price's desk is, mostly because half the time when he passes it, Price is there and muttering to himself. The other half, he's not there at all. It occurs to him just as he arrives that he has no idea what the assignment Martin mentioned is.

"Um, hi," he says. "I'm PK."

"Carey," Price says. He's got an amorphous blob between his hands that he's slowly moving around. He doesn't look away from it to acknowledge PK at all.

"Okay," PK says, half to himself. He sits down and says, "So, new partners, eh?"

"I don't know why they gave me a desk jockey. Do you even know what I'm holding?"

"Uh."

Carey looks up. His eyes are - wow, PK thinks. Intense. "It's a listening device," Carey says. "It takes the shape of an innocuous object, and sends everything to this." He picks up a small earpiece.

"That looks like Muggle technology," PK says, curious.

"It's not," Carey snaps.

"Okay," PK says. He holds up his hands. "I know you mostly go undercover, but Martin wants to try me in the field, so -"

"I get it," Carey says. He closes his hands together, compressing the blob. When he opens them again, it's a small ball the size of a marble that he sets on his desk.

It's cool, but it's not cool enough to distract PK from his main goal, which is fact-finding. "So what's the case Martin has us working on?"

Carey's mouth twists. "Human trafficking, British Death Eater smuggling, and other things that point to some pretty creative attempts at organized crime."

They manage some dark stuff: murder, abuse of power, sometimes systematic enslavement of Muggles, because someone always thinks they'll be able to get away with that scot-free. This is the first time PK's heard of actual organized crime, though. "I'll need to go through the archives," he says. "Make sure we have the full picture before we start investigating outside the office."

"You would," Carey says. "You know why Martin put me on this case, right?"

"Your good looks?"

As a joke, it falls flat. Carey gives him a Look and then says, "We're going to have to go undercover at some point. I'd say I don't know why he's putting a rookie on an assignment like this, instead of supporting me with someone legitimate when we go into the field, but it's Martin. So." Carey stands up. "I assume the next step is going into the archives."

"You got it, buddy," PK says. "To the archives we go."

Carey glares at the rows of parchment like they've done him some kind of horrible offense. PK keeps trying to convince Gauthier, who manages the Auror offices in Quebec, to try to modernize; even Great Britain is starting to integrate magic with Muggle technology enough not to need massive rooms full of parchment. Gauthier's usual argument is that it doesn't really matter, since they can add as much space to the records room as they want. Sometimes PK really wonders about him.

"Okay," PK says. "So, the record rooms are organized by division and then date. There's an organized crime division, but it's, I don't know, three rolls of parchment and that's it. We haven't had a lot of it. That's usually Muggle police work. Conspiring with Dark wizards, though..." PK leads him to the right section. "We'll want to look for any connected with Voldemort, and any who were involved in the organized crime cases. For starters."

"Merlin's beard," Carey says. "This is what you do all day?"

"Part of it," PK says. "I mean, the challenging part is drawing connections and actually making a case field agents can act on." He pauses. "Though I guess that'll be us, this time."

"Apparently." Carey's voice is bone dry. PK's kind of impressed.

It takes PK a minute to realize Carey's just hovering, waiting for PK to say something. "You can go look at organized crime. I'll check out the connections with Dark magic, especially connections with Voldemort."

"So you're saying I should do the easy work."

"Or the work that's most likely to get done," PK says.

"Right." Carey looks, for a second, like he's going to protest; PK's not sure what he'd say if he did. But then he stalks back to where the organized crime records are kept, and PK turns to the rows and rows of parchment about Dark wizards.

He can't use indexing charms; they won't work in the records room because they can be too easily perverted to tamper with the records. He searches through them by hand, keeping his own piece of parchment handy to take notes. After awhile, he has about twenty records that might have some significance to the case. He's about to start looking through the records again, just to be sure, when Carey comes back with three rolls of parchment.

Carey stops dead and stares at PK.

"Hi?" PK tries.

"Right," Carey says. "Okay. While you were, I don't know, working...really quickly." He shrugs. "I got these. I think they might help."

"Cool, just set them down on our desks. We should have a board up to build the case with." PK flicks his wand and the scrolls levitate, following him out of the records room.

He and Carey have a lot of space, luckily. PK spreads the scrolls out and begins examining the ones Carey brought over. "Hmm."

"Is there anything I can do?" Carey says.

He looks dry, PK thinks when he looks up. "Um." He tries to think. "Coffee? I've never worked with anyone before, not since Hal trained me. I think I can handle it. We should be ready to start recon in a day or so."

"Right. So I'm useless right now."

"Not if you get coffee?" PK offers him a smile.

Carey frowns a little, but he just says, "Yeah, okay," and walks away.

He brings coffee after about fifteen minutes. PK's copying the important parts of cases onto the boards; he's only doing it semi-manually, since he can't enchant the parchment to lift words off of it. Carey sets his mug of coffee down - office coffee, one of the few things their office does right. "Here you go."

"Thanks," PK says. "None for you?"

Carey shrugs. "It's two in the afternoon. I'm going to drink water for now."

"I guess if you want," PK says, and drinks his entire mug in one gulp.

"So what have you found?" Carey eyes the board like he's never seen an investigation board before.

"Not much," PK says. "But there are a few wizards in the area with a history of trafficking in Dark magic - cursed objects, sure, but the occasional house elf or human smuggling too. We should probably start there."

"Their names?"

"Jacques Badeau and Garrett Morgan."

"Are they both native to the area?"

PK nods. "They both went to L'Academie de Magie de Québec. They have roots, contacts...it's what makes them good at what they do."

Carey nods. "And I assume you can find them."

"We can," PK says.

"So it's a we now?"

"It always was. Come on, Carey, we both have things we're good at."

Carey's mouth twists, but he just says, "Right. So, tomorrow morning we'll activate a tracking charm and hunt them down."

"Um, right," PK says. "Except we don't have anything of theirs to track, so we're going to have to do it the Muggle way."

"Right," Carey says. He manages to sound amazingly put-upon in a single word. "Of course."

"Pretty much," PK says. "Anyway, I'm going to go over the information again."

He doesn't realize what he's unleashed on the office until it's nearly five and Hal comes up to him. "PK," Hal says in the heavy tone PK's used to associating with his first few years of bad arrests and impatient Auror work.

"Yes?" PK does his best to look innocent, despite not being sure what he did.

"Isn't Carey your partner now?"

"Uh-huh."

"He's been wandering the office for hours, terrorizing rookies."

"Oh no?"

"PK."

Hal sounds more like a dad than PK's actual dad. "I'll go get him," he says grudgingly.

He finds Carey leaning against the wall, glaring at everyone coming out of the break room. He wears Muggle clothes, like PK does; PK notices that they look good on him.

"You're not normally this dour," PK says.

"Dour?"

"It's a good word." PK shrugs. "It's almost five and we're both dressed for it. Want to get an early Muggle dinner?"

"Do you know of good places?"

"Tons," PK says. "I love to eat." He pats his stomach.

Carey's eyes flicker down and then back up again. "Grab your coat, let's go."

They end up at a Chinese place run by Anglophones; magic schools in Canada teach French as a matter of course, but PK's pretty sure they're both more comfortable not having to speak it. And he kind of wants to see Carey in a Muggle environment. He seems so...traditional, in a lot of ways, only he's comfortable in his Muggle jeans and t-shirt, and he orders lo mein with ease.

He turns up his nose at PK's sweet and sour chicken, though. "Really?"

"It's good," PK defends himself. "I like it."

"You would, I guess," Carey says.

PK's not sure how he knows, because Carey's expression only changes a little; but somehow he gets that Carey's messing with him. "You're funny," he says. He doesn't manage to keep the surprise out of his tone.

"And you're not boring." This time Carey smiles, a slow curl of his mouth that has PK momentarily fascinated. "It's nice. Quebec has a lot of boring Aurors."

"Quebec has a lot of bad Aurors," PK says.

"True." Carey winces. "We've fallen far."

"Are you planning on staying?"

"I'm committed," Carey says flatly.

PK doesn't push. Instead, he chews his chicken, grinning at Carey when Carey rolls his eyes again.

They end up hanging out for almost two hours, talking about their history with the Quebec Auror division, their school differences. They talk quietly about school, given the need for secrecy; it means they lean into each other enough that by the end of the night, PK has to admit to himself that he's pretty into Carey.

It's not a big deal, really. He's been attracted to plenty of coworkers and usually doesn't do anything about it. He gets what he needs elsewhere, where it's less complicated.

But he can't help but notice, as they say goodbye before Apparating home from the first wizarding store they find, that Carey doesn't step away when PK grips his shoulder.

He's definitely not going to go there, he reminds himself as he gets ready for bed. But it's nice to think about.

He meets Carey at the office at eight the next day. It's early enough that he has a travel mug of coffee. Carey eyes it when he shows up, but just says, "I already had some," when PK offers him a sip.

"So," PK says. "Invisibility cloaks?"

Carey wordlessly hands him one. "We're Apparating to Parc Leroux," he says. "We'll walk from there."

PK still gets kind of a thrill out of walking, invisible, among Muggles. "They're using the Muggle world to hide, so that makes sense," he says. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely," Carey says. He smiles narrowly and Apparates.

PK follows, and appears next to Carey in the locked fake storage building that wizards use to apparate to. He says, "No invisibility cloak yet, right?"

"Not yet," Carey says. "I have to follow you. Or the other way around."

They're about three blocks from their destination once they get out of the park. They walk quickly and silently. PK keeps glancing at Carey out of the corner of his eye; Carey's got this weird attitude, this really drawn-in kind of professionalism that's making PK realize why he's so good in the field, and so great undercover.

"Here we go," PK says when they get close.

Cary puts his cloak on and then reaches out and grabs PK's wrist. PK looks at him in surprise.

"You really haven't been out on the field much, have you?" Carey says impatiently. "Put your cloak on. Keeping track of each other like this makes more sense than see-all spells; this kind of bad guy probably has detectors set up to catch that kind of magic."

That makes a lot of sense and sounds like something Hal would tell him. "I mostly went on arrests," PK admits, and puts his cloak on.

They walk towards the building together, leaning against the wall across from the entrance. Right now they're just on a stakeout; PK knows they have to observe the suspects' movements enough to establish a pattern before they do anything too extreme. But he'd underestimated how boring stakeouts are. Hal only took him on one before declaring them a PK-free zone. Carey doesn't say anything, and his hand on PK's wrist doesn't twitch. But after he gets used to the feel of Carey's calloused hand, the whole thing is pretty boring.

Finally, though, past lunch (Carey produces two sandwiches, magically kept cool, which PK is pretty relieved about), Jacques Badeau walks into the building.

"Excellent," PK says. "So he was out somewhere."

"Now we wait for Garrett," Carey says.

PK does his best not to groan.

Garrett doesn't show until nearly six PM. He's leaving the building, looking incredibly suspicious, with a very obvious wand bulge.

"Follow?" PK says under his breath.

"Follow," Carey confirms, and they set off after him.

They're equipped with trackers that will let them follow Garrett if he Apparates; all Auror divisions in the field have them. But Garrett doesn't Apparate. He walks several blocks north, then ducks into a seemingly innocuous office building.

Even PK knows that "seemingly innocuous" doesn't mean much - but right now, they can't follow. "We could get the Rights," PK says. Right to Search is pretty important for Aurors.

"Or we could break in," Carey says. "Not right now, though."

PK blinks.

"Martin won't expect a report for at least a week," Carey says. "And he'll question where we get the evidence only if we don't have enough legally gotten for a court case. If there's something worth investigating in there, we need to know."

"And you think there is?"

"I think there's no reason he couldn't have Apparated if he has nothing to hide."

"Okay," PK says.

There's a suspicious pause before Carey says, "That's it?"

"Sure." PK shrugs. "I mean, I assemble evidence people bring back to the station, normally, but it's not like I don't know how it's gotten."

"Good," Carey says. "We should head home, then."

"After we drop the cloaks off at the station."

"Right," Carey says. "Of course."

They don't go get dinner or anything; they leave their cloaks locked in their desks and then Apparate home individually. But as PK eats his poutine (he deserves it, he thinks, after that stakeout), he can't help but think he'd really rather eat with Carey.

The next week is stakeouts, stakeouts, and more stakeouts. PK's starting to get kind of annoyed; obviously he knows this is how Auror work goes, but usually he's busy researching three or four cases and using the information brought back to him. Now, though, it's just him and Carey, over and over again.

PK is really starting to doubt the whole invisibility cloaks, holding onto each other plan. Carey grips his wrist like he thinks PK is going to run away or something, and PK's vacillating between really wishing he'd stop and being kind of into it.

He's surprised when, after a wasted Friday of watching shipments arrive at another warehouse and gritting their teeth over how they can't interfere yet, Carey says abruptly, "I've put in a request with Martin to begin undercover work."

"Under..." PK locks the drawer with his invisibility cloak and says, "Sorry, I thought you said undercover."

"I did." Carey looks grim. "I tried to petition for a different partner, but I couldn't."

PK tells himself it makes no sense to feel kind of hurt. "Oh," he says. "Okay, well, I mean - that's cool."

"PK." Carey rolls his eyes. "If you want to go, then I'm glad."

"Yeah?"

"You're not completely terrible," Carey admits.

From Carey, that's a hell of a compliment. PK grins and says, "Awesome. Guess I'll see you on Monday, then."

He almost turns to go, but Carey opens his mouth and visibly hesitates. "Yeah?" PK says.

"My sister's in town," Carey says. "If you want, we could hang out."

PK blinks. "Oh, okay. Yeah, sure."

"We can Apparate to the Sparkling Wand from here," Carey says, naming one of the few Anglo Wizarding bars in the area.

"Sounds good," PK says. "Uh, I'm not really dressed for a bar, though."

Carey raises an eyebrow at PK's dark jeans and tight shirt with a Muggle slogan. Then he looks at himself, in his worn-down jeans and plaid shirt. "We're not English," he says. "We can afford to dress down a bit."

"Okay," PK says. "Sure. Let's go, then."

They Apparate together, arriving next to one another just outside the bar. It's a trick they've practiced a bit in the last week or so, partly because it's good for partners to be able to communicate like that, and partly because it looks cool. Carey waves an arm at PK, half-bowing ironically. "After you," he says.

PK grins at him and goes into the bar, pushing the door out so Carey can catch it as he follows.

Kayla is sitting at a table in the corner. PK knows her name because Carey brings her up a ton; now, PK sits down and says, "Hey."

"Hi," she says brightly. Her smile is wide and happy when she looks at Carey. PK ends up smiling too, just because it's cute, and also he's really digging Kayla's dress and the way she flicks her finger at Carey and says, "Do you work in a barn or something?"

"Very funny," Carey says. "This is PK, by the way."

"I guessed," Kayla says. PK laughs at the look on her face. When Carey glares at him, he says, "Sorry, it's just - your expressions are exactly the same."

"I smile more."

"But still, sarcastically. Must be a family trait." PK looks at the menu. "Hmm. Chicken fingers?"

"Thought you were watching your figure," Carey says.

PK rolls his eyes at him. "I'm in the gym every day," he says.

"Well, I'm getting chicken fingers," Kayla says. "And, hmm. Fried mushrooms."

"Fine," Carey says. Or grumbles, rather; it's kind of cute, PK thinks fondly. "I'll get foie gras poutine."

"Fancy," PK says, even though it isn't, really. He taps his order spot and tells the table, "Chicken fingers and grilled cheese, please."

"Grilled cheese? Really?"

"You shut your mouth," PK says. He doesn't really mean it, though, and Carey mostly just looks kind of smug.

Once all their orders are placed, PK leans forward and says, "So."

"So," Kayla says.

"I think it's only fair that I get the lowdown on Carey here."

"Well," Kayla says, leaning forward with a conspiratory expression.

"Kayla!"

Carey looks mortified. PK's really tempted to keep teasing him, but he's starting to feel kind of sorry for Carey; he's all twitchy and looks like he's worried Kayla's going to tell PK about his murdering childhood, or something. "Okay," PK says. "We can drop it for now. How about the Gryffins, eh?"

"They're not going anywhere this year," Carey says. "You can't tell me you actually root for them."

"Better than rooting for - what, the Orcas?"

Carey glares. "I'm from BC."

"Sure," PK says. "And you're not that good at winning in hockey, eh? Wizarding or otherwise."

Carey huffs a breath. "Montreal isn't all about the Gryffins."

"Bet I can teach you to love them."

"You definitely can't."

"Bet I can."

If anything, Carey's glare gets even worse.

"So," Kayla says. "Please tell me this isn't what you do all day. I'd like to feel, you know. Safe and protected."

"Montreal -"

"Has old glory," Carey says. PK honestly can't tell if he's talking about their Auror station or the Gryffins.

"Anyway, Carey and I are on the case," PK says, and tries for a smile.

They spend the rest of the night with small talk. Carey and Kayla talk about people they know back in BC a bit; PK doesn't mind, since it gives him glimpses into Carey's life that he knows Carey wouldn't otherwise give him. It's still not clear to PK how he ended up in Montreal. PK loves Montreal and has wanted to be a Montreal Auror for ages. Sure, the reality is a little different, but for Carey, it's like he just happened to end up at one of the most storied, and currently most troubled, Auror stations in Canada.

But PK keeps those thoughts hidden from Carey - or as hidden as they can be, anyway. Carey has the habit of glaring at him suspiciously even when he's not doing anything, but PK's pretty sure Carey doesn't think he's as interested in Carey's life as he actually is.

After a long night and a lot of firewhiskey, Kayla says, "I'm staying with Carey."

"Too bad," PK says, and laughs at the look on Carey's face. "Relax," he adds. "It's fine." He leans forward and hugs her, then thumps Carey on the shoulder. "I'll see you," he says, and Apparates.

It's a little hard to fall asleep that night. He keeps thinking of the look on Carey's face when he looks at Kayla - the sort of restrained pride and happiness he almost never gets, otherwise. PK doesn't know if Carey likes being an Auror. He's never really asked, and anyway, he's not sure it matters. Carey's one of the best they've got, the first person they come to for undercover work. And even more importantly, PK knows there's no way Carey's going to quit. Whatever he thinks about the job, PK's put enough cases together to know when someone's not going to crack.

PK goes to sleep still thinking about Carey's ambiguous smile, and how much he wishes it was directed at him.

Those thoughts are scrubbed clean when he wakes up in the morning. He's not hungover, but he is a little slow. He doesn't have to go into the office that day, luckily, so he's settled in in front of a his drawing pad with a giant glass of water when someone knocks on his door.

It's Carey. "Did you Apparate into the hallway?" PK says blankly. When Carey gives him an exasperated look, he moves aside and adds, "Um, come in."

"It's a Wizarding building," Carey says by way of answering. "Kayla's gone."

For one horrifying second PK thinks Carey means gone as in disappeared; but then it occurs to him that, no, Carey actually probably wouldn't be sort of calm and morose if his sister was missing. "Okay," PK says. "I was going to read."

"I don't really read."

"Right."

"You do?"

"It's good for the work I do," PK says, shrugging. "I have a Muggle TV?"

"Great," Carey says, and walks into PK's living room.

PK thinks this might be Carey's version of being lonely. He goes back out to the living room, where Carey's sitting on the end of the couch that doesn't have PK's giant glass of water. He's kind of curled in on himself, so PK sits down at the other end and starts reading - sideways, so that he can prop his feet up close to Carey's legs. He's starting to get used to poking at Carey like this, just a little, to make him a little less weird about stuff.

They hang out like that for hours, barely speaking, before Carey says, abruptly, "I'm hungry."

"I order a lot of stuff," PK admits. "I also have meals you can heat up."

"That works." Carey clicks the TV off and turns to look at PK. "Where's your kitchen?"

"Through the hallway," PK says, then hops to his feet. "I mean, I can do it."

Carey flicks his wand at PK, sweeping his feet out from under him and making him sit back on the couch heavily. "You'll just steal bits of it while you do it."

PK laughs. "Okay, fair," he says. "It should be in the fridge."

"I'll get it," Carey says, and disappears down the hall.

PK feels sort of weird about someone else cooking in his apartment. It's not huge, and smells start coming into the living room after just a minute. Even PK doesn't cook here often. He takes his parents out to dinner when they visit, and anyway, half the time he's working late.

Which is beside the point, he thinks, pulling his mind back on track. The point is, Carey's alternately prickly and too familiar, and PK's starting to think maybe he should settle this like he did with John, and just sleep with him.

Not that there was really anything to settle with him and John. Back at Auror training they were easy; they worked so well together. They came up through wizarding school together, too, but it was after a hard day of physical training that they collapsed together and ended up fucking. PK liked it, mostly because he likes John and sex with his friends is easy and simple. And it did resolve the kind of frisson between them, that stuff PK figures John would've denied if PK had actually tried to talk to him about it.

He's not sure that will help with Carey, though. Carey's still an unknown in a lot of ways.

In the end, PK tells himself to stop trying to put together the puzzle of how Carey acts. He's not on duty, and PK's not a Dark wizard or even a Muggle criminal. Instead, he enjoys the steaks and vegetables Carey feeds him, and afterwards says, "I was thinking I'd meet Hal at the bar."

"You still spend time with Hal?"

"Hal's awesome," PK says. "Come on, Carey. You've been here all day. You should come with."

Carey narrows his eyes at PK. PK smiles back, doing his best to be charming.

"Fine," Carey says. "Okay. Let's go."

"We're going to walk," PK says. "The Kettle is just a few blocks away."

"I said okay."

PK doesn't laugh at how cranky Carey is, because he likes his balls where they are on his body. He does put his coat on, though, and say, "Here we go, then."

Hal's hunched over a table when they get there, engrossed in conversation with a waitress. As they get closer, PK hears him saying, "...really should make sure people know. I don't mind pickles, but for people who do, product descriptions are valuable. PK. I didn't know you were bringing a date."

The waitress makes her escape as PK and Carey sit down. PK doesn't have a chance to respond to Hal's implication before Carey says, "I'm an Auror. I know you. We're partners, not dates."

"Of course, some people tend not to make the distinction." Hal glances at PK, who does his best to smile innocently. He's pretty sure Hal can see straight through him, but there's no need for them to have that particular conversation right away.

"I do," Carey says flatly.

"Mhm." Hal takes a sip of water, then waves the waitress over. "Burgers okay?" he asks PK and Carey.

"Sure," Carey says, more than a little challengingly.

Hal nods briefly and orders. While he's doing it, PK gulps his water down. If he knows Hal, then Hal's about to start grilling them on going undercover. He remembers PK's...not very impressive undercover career, PK's pretty sure.

"So," Hal says when the waitress leaves. "I heard you put in for some work in the field."

"We need to get moving," Carey says. "The case -"

"I can explain it," PK says quickly.

Carey gives him a look, but PK refuses to try to interpret it. This kind of thing is his job; he'll explain it better.

Carey, to PK's surprise, gives in. "Right," he says. "Okay. Shoot."

So PK explains the case. The shadow of Death Eaters doesn't and never really has hung over Canada; they have their own issues, but Voldemort's name holds a lot less sway on this side of the Atlantic. But Hal is old enough to remember some of the conflict, and his mouth is set grimly as PK runs through the human trafficking, the drug issues, the remnants of Voldemort's reign trying to get a footing in North America. When PK winds down, Carey jumps in and says, "So I'm going to try to set us up and get us an in with the crime ring. It shouldn't be too difficult."

"Shouldn't be too difficult? You're dealing with Death Eaters."

"Everyone has weaknesses."

PK knows that tone. Carey's pretending he doesn't care, but he does - a lot. PK really should've predicted this would take a turn for the weirdly competitive.

"Anyway," he says, "Carey's awesome, and he's going to keep me from making an idiot out of myself."

"A mammoth task," Hal says.

PK grins at him.

Conversation gets a little less strained after that, especially once Carey clues in to the fact that Hal making fun of PK is just normal, and not something Carey needs to get all angry about. They talk for a couple hours, until the waitress starts heavily hinting that they should leave; then Hal Apparates with a terse, "I'll see you in the office."

"Gonna have a quiet Sunday?" PK says.

Carey nods. "You?"

"Same."

They blink at each other. PK's about to say something way too flirty when Carey says, "See you Monday," and Apparates.

PK feels like maybe he should be doing some introspection or something, only that's not really his thing, and he knows he's not going to magically figure out what's going on in Carey's head. He Apparates back to his apartment and goes to bed.

He gets into the office Monday morning and has just long enough to hang his (old-fashioned but really nice) cloak up before the comm at his desk says tinnily, "Martin would like to see you in his office."

"I'll be right there," PK tells it. He takes a deep breath, double-checks to make sure he can't see Carey anywhere, and then goes.

Carey's sitting in Martin's office. Judging by his posture, he's been there awhile. "Sir?" PK says.

"Ah. Good. Sit down." Martin frowns at him a little. "Quickly, please."

PK sits promptly, then says, "Our application went through?"

"I review all requests for field work promptly," Martin says. PK can't help but notice that's not exactly a straight answer.

"He's been telling me about the funding we'll be granted," Carey says.

"This is a high-priority assignment, and Price is the best man we have," Martin says. "Good enough that I trust him to guide you, since you're not used to field work."

PK will bristle about that later. "Sure."

"You'll be undercover as a Wizarding crime couple from the States."

If PK had a drink, he'd be spitting it out. "Excuse me?"

Martin doesn't blink. "You'll be from Minnesota. They probably won't notice the accent difference."

"I'll have a Minnesota accent," Carey says. PK gets the vibe he's offended.

"Okay," Martin says. "We'll get you papers, a house, all that."

"Won't they have a problem with it?" PK says. "You know, being gay."

Martin shakes his head. "Our intelligence indicates they don't care about Muggle standards like that. It would be a problem if you were purebloods who needed heirs, but you're not."

"So we're supposed to be married," Carey says flatly.

Martin looks at him. For a second the room gets really tense, and it occurs to PK that Carey probably really doesn't like being one of the best undercover Aurors in Canada at one of the worst Auror stations in North America.

"Yes," Martin finally says. "I'll have someone bring you details for your cover later." He flicks his wrist and his office door opens. "Good day."

It's a surprisingly hostile way to let them out, but PK's not an idiot. He books it, ignoring the way Carey all but stalks after him.

"I'm going to go hit the punching bag," Carey says when they get back to their desks.

"Okay," PK says. "I'll let you know when we have our cover."

"You do that," Carey says, and leaves.

PK fiddles with some papers and goes over the details of the case again. He'll have to pretend he doesn't know any of the faces of the crime organization, that he doesn't know about all the horrible things they've done. It's not like PK is completely new to subterfuge; he's pretty sure he can do this without serious incident. Hal did train him, even if PK ended up being more of a desk jockey than anything else.

His nervousness covers all other possible emotions for so long that it's not until the details of their cover appear on his desk that he realizes how excited he is.

He almost jumps when it occurs to him, but catches himself at the last moment. They have a modern, open floor plan, which means everyone would catch him acting like a complete lunatic. Instead, he taps his communicator frog statue and says into it, "Carey, the cover's here."

A few minutes later, Carey comes out from the back. He's dry and clean, but PK's pretty sure it took a lot of spells to make him that way. The way Carey's flexing his hands helps with that.

"Here you go," PK says, passing the papers over.

Carey scrutinizes PK as he takes them. "You look weird," is his verdict as he sits down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," PK says, biting back a smile.

"Sure you don't," Carey says. "It's not going to be a walk in the park, you know."

PK's not offended; he's pretty aware of how Carey sees him, and PK can only partly blame him. "I know," he says. "But they keep me at the desk, mostly, so this will be cool."

"They shouldn't," Carey mutters, flipping to the second page of the cover document.

"What?"

Carey blinks at looks up at him. "They shouldn't," he says more clearly. His voice is kind of deeper than usual, PK thinks. "You're good."

"Oh," PK says. "Well. Thank you."

"We're moving in tomorrow," Carey says.

"They move fast."

"Part of the job." Carey shrugs, then stands. "We should go pack."

PK laughs, but he stops when Carey looks at him blankly. "Wait," PK says. "You're serious?"

"Don't you pack?"

"I just, you know, Apparate things," PK says. "I guess I put them in bins. Why?"

Carey takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring. "We're adults," he says. "Adults doing illegal shit, so we have to act like it. That means boxes. You can spell them to pack themselves all you want, but you need to use them."

"Huh. Okay." PK stands and stretches. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"No," Carey says.

PK waits for him to elaborate, a strategy that works on his little cousins and Carey about equally well. Sure enough, after a minute Carey says, "I'm moving my stuff to yours tonight. That way when we move in tomorrow we'll be coming from the same place."

That seems kind of elaborate to PK, but then, he's not the one who's a decorated hero when it comes to undercover work. "Sure," he says. "I'll make up the couch."

He Apparates before Carey has a chance to say they have to share a bed, or something. PK's managing this thing for Carey, but that involves not thinking about it too closely.

He succeeds, heating up one of his pre-assembled dinners and eating it before the crack of Apparating signals Carey's shown up. "Hey," PK says. "I put some sheets on the couch."

"You're not going to transfigure it?"

PK shrugs. "It's just for one night."

"Hmm," Carey says. "Well, here." He indicates the boxes. "This is it."

"Seriously? This is all you own?"

"No," Carey says. "This is all I'm bringing. The place is pre-furnished."

PK's never been so glad he doesn't show blushes. "Sure, okay. Let me go box some stuff up. You can watch TV or whatever."

He's not really surprised to see that when he comes back out, after boxing up some essentials including clothes and some true crime books, Carey's taken the sheets off the couch and has propped his feet up on PK's coffee table. He's watching TV. "Muggles," Carey says thoughtfully as PK sits down next to him.

"They're sure something," PK agrees.

"Then again, to listen to my Hogwarts friends talk, North American wizards are almost as bad."

"Hey," PK says, "at least we're not Americans."

Carey laughs. It's kind of a startling sound, all slow and...charismatic, PK decides. That's a way safer word than the one he was thinking. "You're not wrong."

"I know," PK says.

They're mostly quiet after that. PK's biting down on his natural tendency to talk both because he doesn't want to force Carey to answer questions for him, and because he's kind of nervous and knows if he talks it'll just turn into babbling. So they sit there until the clock hits ten thirty, and then Carey says, "We should go to bed early. We move in at eight."

PK groans. "That's so early."

"Moving in at nine would be a little too on point," Carey says.

"Fair enough," PK says, and stands. "Here, get up and I'll put the sheets back on."

"No need," Carey says. He flicks his wand and does the bed up. "You're weirdly shy with magic."

"I keep forgetting we can use it," PK admits.

Carey looks amused. "It's been, what, six years?"

"Five, but yeah. My brothers still can't use it on their own."

"And you keep forgetting?"

"I'll remember more around you," PK says. He grins at Carey, because Carey's making fun of him and PK feels way more on an even footing with this kind of thing.

Just like that, Carey's good cheer disappears. "See you in the morning," he says, turning around and casting a cleaning spell on his mouth.

PK's not going to think about Carey's pearly whites. He goes to bed instead.

Moving in is surprisingly uneventful. PK's moved house a few times, and it's mostly just a matter of getting stuff to make its way from one house to another without Muggles noticing. Once their boxes are safely trotting to the new house, shrouded in eye-diverting magic, PK and Carey Apparate into their new quarters.

It's a nice house on the outskirts of Montreal, in an affluent and heavily Francophone area. PK was initially dubious, until Carey explained, "This is where the bosses live. Trust me on this." They've had a few people, both plants with the Aurors and people of a less savory reputation, send out feelers about the crime-inclined couple moving in. Carey and PK's covers don't place them as anything like British Death Eaters, but they're definitely supposed to be Dark wizards.

PK's still not sure how he's going to pretend to be evil, even though he does know Dark magic. He'll leave that to Carey, probably.

No one rolls out the welcome wagon as they settle in. It's kind of anticlimactic, actually. Their stuff goes in their room - the single room, which PK's pretty sure is going to be interesting - and then they stand in the living room, staring at each other.

"Well," PK says.

"The house is impervious to listening charms," Carey says. "But we should probably still use each other's cover names and act married. Just in case there's visual surveillance."

"Okay," PK says. "That's good to know, um, Kev."

Short for Kevin. PK's not sure how he feels about this.

"Thanks, Jake." Carey's sly smile tells PK all he really needs to know about why Carey likes going undercover. Apparently, the challenge of it all really gets him going.

PK might not be really experienced with undercover, but he knows how to rise to a challenge. He moves over to Carey and puts one arm around his waist, leaning his head in. "There's movement in the bushes outside," he says when it catches his eye.

"I know." Carey kisses the top of his head, the hand that's not around PK's arm on his wand. "I'll go to the front door, you take the back."

PK does, but nothing happens. He spends a few tense minutes with his wand out, waiting to start hurling curses, when Carey calls, "We have a package."

He walks back to the living room and sits down on the couch. Carey takes the floor, though, magic holding the small wooden box in front of him like it might burn him.

Which, PK thinks, it really might.

PK scrambles to the floor. "That could be a problem," he says, looking at the box. "Can we get a squad on it?"

He pretty much knows the answer, so he's not surprised when Carey shakes his head. "Montreal's Dangerous Artifacts division isn't known for its competence."

"Gomez -"

"That's the argument you're going with?"

"Fair point," PK agrees. "So, what are we going to do?"

"Attempt to disarm it ourselves."

"You're sure it's a curse?"

"Why do you think I'm out of the sightlines of the windows?"

"Good point." PK sighs. "I guess it's asking a little much for things to be simple."

Carey looks amused. "This is simple." He glares at the box for a minute, then mutters something.

PK doesn't clearly hear him, but it doesn't seem to matter. The box sparks a little and stubbornly stays shut.

"You could try a speaking spell," PK says. "Though hitting it with magic is probably almost as unsafe as touching it."

Carey nods absently. "It's old-fashioned," he says.

"Because it's not in an iPod?"

Carey looks wry. "There's that. But also, look at the carving. This is old, European by the looks of it."

"Death Eaters," PK says, catching on.

"Death Eaters," Carey agrees.

PK thinks it over for a second. "Probably Mortimer," he says, tapping the box with his wand. "Those carvings were burned in, and this etching looks like a tradesman did it. Mortimer's known for being a naturalist, and he wants everything to come from the earth. He binds his magic in it a lot, too. If Mortimer's sneaking Death Eaters into Quebec, this could be a worse problem than we thought."

He stops when he realizes Carey's staring at him. "This is a weird habit of yours," he says.

"You put that together quickly."

PK shrugs. "That's what I do."

"And I think you're right," Carey says. "I wouldn't have made the leap, but I'd be surprised if it was wrong."

"Aww, thanks," PK says, grinning at Carey.

Carey rolls his eyes. "So. How should we disarm it?"

"That's not my field of expertise," PK says, but he's already thinking. "We could try opening it."

"You don't think that'll trigger it?"

"I think whatever's in there isn't meant to kill us. Woo us with Dark magic, maybe, but not kill us."

"Fair enough." Carey flicks a shielding charm at PK, then puts one up around himself. He points his wand at the box and commands, "Open yourself."

The box flips open, and both their shields shatter like they're made of cheap, old glass. PK ducks instinctively, but he doesn't manage to do it in time; the curse hits them both square on.

For a second PK can't breathe. He stays calm, clutching his wand like a lifeline, but in the end that doesn't matter much. The curse constricts around him and then settles into his skin, leaving a feeling like soap scum behind.

PK raises a hand. His skin looks the same as ever, except when he shifts it, at which point little red bits of curse catch the light. Even as he watches, the red fails - but the curse is still there, no mistake.

He looks over at Carey. Carey's doing the same thing with his hand. When he catches PK looking, he says, "So that was a stupid thing we just did."

"Yeah," PK agrees. "But we're not dead, so I was right."

"I don't think getting hit with a curse Death Eaters and other Dark wizards intended us to get counts as being right."

"I just said it wouldn't kill us."

"So for a really narrow definition -"

PK feels a weird slow swell of amusement that feels like it doesn't belong to him. He ignores it - one thing at a time - in favor of smiling brightly at Carey and saying, "For a reasonably broad definition, I'm right."

"You're disgusting," Carey says. He doesn't sound that mad, though. "Since we're still alive, I should probably get rid of the box."

PK shakes his head. "These things are Mortimer's pride and joy. Put it on the mantle, Kev."

Carey glares, but he stands up with the box and sets it on the mantle. He leaves it open, which PK thinks is a nice stylistic touch.

Carey looks back at him, and PK feels a weird tug in his stomach, similar to a minute ago. He frowns. "Hey, Carey?"

"Kev."

"Okay, fine, Kev. Do you feel weird?"

"How do you mean?"

"I'm getting these weird mental...feelings." Lame finish, PK tells himself. "Things that don't belong to me."

Carey frowns. "And you think it's because of the curse."

"I think it logically follows."

There's a snap out back. Carey's head jerks up and he pulls his wand from his pocket. "Be right back," he says, creeping towards the back.

PK follows, because it's not like he's going to leave his partner to face danger alone. But when they get outside, they see a cat sitting among pieces of a shattered pot.

Carey sighs and pockets his wand. "What are you doing out here?" he says. PK half expects the cat to claw him, but it just meows inquisitively as Carey scoops it up. "Whose are you?" He lifts the cat's leg, then adds, "Little lady?"

PK likes animals, but he knows he doesn't like Carey does. He watches as the cat meows earnestly at Carey, doing his best to ignore the affection he feels for the cat, which he's pretty sure is only partly actually his. "Let's get inside," PK says when Carey starts scratching behind her ears.

"We should be fine," Carey says. "We've already been cursed - they'll let it go for now."

"I know," PK says, "but tempting fate doesn't seem smart, you know?"

"You're not exactly a Divination expert," Carey says wryly. He goes inside, though, taking the cat. The affection PK feels won't let him argue.

They check the perimeter with ruthless efficiency, not even bothering to double check which parts of the house each of them should do. Once it's secure, PK goes back out into the living room - to see Carey dangling a makeshift cat toy, a bit of string with a quill tied to the end.

PK leans against the doorframe, watching. He can tell from the way Carey's eyes flick in his direction that Carey notices him, but he keeps playing with the cat anyway. She has to be young, PK thinks - she's transfixed by the feather, leaping up in the air and batting at it. Carey laughs when she falls, then says to PK, "You know, I'm really more of a dog person."

PK's pretty sure he likes the cat because it's a tie, however weak, back to his life as an Auror who Apparates to BC on a lot of weekends to ride horses and, probably, pet a hundred dogs. PK doesn't mind it, or anything, but if one cat is enough to make Carey go stupid, then maybe he should get a dog of his own or something.

Now's not the time to have that talk, though. Especially since PK still knows Carey's file better than Carey himself. Instead, he settles on one of their two armchairs while Carey plays with the cat.

He should at least pretend to be doing something else, but he can't. They learned about bonding spells in Auror school; of course they did. It's a Dark way to tie two people together, usually with distance limits built in, along with a whole other host of ill effects if the two people involved try to resist the bond. They can be broken, PK knows, but in order to do so they'd probably have to be hospitalized for awhile. PK doesn't need to ask to know Carey will refuse.

It's probably useful, anyway, PK thinks. They're tied together now, and the Dark mob will know it. It will signal that they're all in, and if this lasts long enough, PK's pretty sure he can come up with a way for them to break the bond themselves. That will signal that they're powerful enough to be bothered with, which could get them in the inner circle, which in turn might mean they can stop Voldemort's supporters being smuggled into the country.

He doesn't realize Carey's stopped playing with the cat until she bumps her head under his chin. PK laughs, petting her.

"I can feel you thinking," Carey says. He's sitting forward on the couch, hands together and hanging between his knees.

"Sorry," PK says. "I can go somewhere else."

Carey gives him a 'give me a break' look. "I mean I can feel you thinking. Mentally. Don't bother pretending you don't feel it too."

"I figured we were avoiding talking about it."

Carey shakes his head and leans back. "Bonding spell?"

"Bonding spell," PK confirms. "I'm not happy with it."

"I'm not surprised."

"Was this meant to be this complex an assignment?"

"Sure," Carey says. "We're infiltrating a crime ring. These things happen."

PK's pretty sure Carey's trying to convince himself as much as anything else, even though it doesn't really make sense that Carey would be freaking out, considering that he's done way more dangerous things alone. "Sure," PK finally says. "So, what, do we bring our criminal friends a pie?"

"Nah," Carey says. "We get seen tonight at La Nuit."

PK groans. "Dark wizards have their own bar?"

"They have an entire street of storefronts in England," Carey points out.

"It's just so corny. I bet they wear the traditional hats, too."

"Probably," Carey says. He's perked up as suddenly as he got weirdly serious, and is eyeing PK speculatively. "You look too wholesome," is his verdict. "But I can probably work with that."

"You sound like a makeover specialist," PK says, but he's laughing. He does his best not to think about the warm, not-his feeling in the back of his mind.

"Don't worry, there aren't any montages in your future." Carey kicks PK lazily. "But we do need to get ready to go soon."

They go to their bedroom together and get ready to go. PK wears a dark shirt and jeans, trying to keep in mind what Carey said about not looking wholesome. Carey wears his usual going-out clothes; he's missing only the cowboy hat to be really dressed up. PK gets distracted for a worrying amount of time by Carey's belt buckle, but after that he locks in and does his best to focus.

"Remember, they're all Francophones," Carey says. "I hope your French has gotten better since your time as a trainee."

"I didn't know you as a trainee."

"I've heard stories," is Carey's kind of terrifying response.

"Well, it's better now," PK says. "I graduated, didn't I?"

"Guess you did," Carey says. "Let's go, then."

They both Apparate to the front of the building. It looks different than it did in the location picture Carey showed him before they left - more intimidating, PK thinks. Also full of people in robes and pointy hats. PK would groan about traditionalism, but Carey's busy getting them inside, and he's changed so much it's all PK can do not to boggle.

Carey's kind of smirky in general, but now he's laying it on so much it's pretty much smarm. He bribes the bouncer and struts in with as much of a fuck-you attitude as PK's ever seen on him, and in between being completely stunned, PK thinks he might really get it. This is Carey in his element, faking people out. By the time they leave, PK's completely sure they'll have an in with the Dark wizards they need to nab.

It kind of makes PK want to blow him. But then he remembers their bond and notices the way Carey's shoulders have gone a little stiff, and he stops thinking about it.

He wasn't sure what to expect from the night, which he thinks Carey did on purpose. It starts out like a normal night at a bar: they get beers and sit down, surveying the room. But instead of talking about his rodeo days or office news or something, Carey says, "Our plans should work out."

This, PK knows. Their cover is that they moved out to the suburbs to try to begin a business of selling enchantment-laced drugs. It's probably the most mundane thing the higher-ups could have thought of, but in PK's estimation, that's good. It makes them look small-time, and more importantly, it's easy to remember.

So they chat about drugs for awhile, and then a burly white guy sits down and says in French, "Did you like our gift?"

"It's a little inconvenient," Carey replies. His French is perfect; but then, PK thinks, of course it is. "But we're working with it."

"I'm sure you'll get rid of it eventually."

"Maybe we will," PK says cheerfully. "But it's kind of cool. I always wanted to be psychic."

Burly Guy frowns. Carey smirks.

"Anyway," PK says. He feels like he's warming up, and also a little like that feeling in the back of his mind is guiding him. "We're just here to have a few beers, make some business plans."

"No one makes plans around here without my boys knowing about it," Burly Guy says.

"Your boys?" Carey says.

Burly Guy glares.

"We're not idiots." Carey shrugs. "Come back with someone more important. I'm not interested in arguing with a lackey."

"We could end you where you sit."

"You could," Carey says, "and this building would come down around you. Do you think we didn't take precautions?"

PK doesn't let on that they didn't. Well, he didn't. Carey might be bluffing, but then, he might not be.

"Fine," Burly Guy snarls, and leaves as abruptly as he came.

"Precautions?" PK says.

"Later," Carey says.

PK can take a hint. He kicks back with his beer and surveys the room; if he does it really obviously, then Carey can do it subtly. He half expects them to get approached again, but they finish their beers without anyone coming up. PK does his best not to notice what people are doing in the many shadows of the bar; it seems to involve a lot of illegal-looking Potions ingredients and money changing hands over magically locked boxes of who knows what.

"That felt wrong," PK admits once they've Apparated back to the house.

"Oh?"

"Not doing anything about all the trading and stuff going on."

Carey shrugs. "You can't stop every crime you ever see."

"I can try."

"Sure," Carey says. "And you'll fail, inevitably. Let it go."

It's probably technically good advice, but PK's bothered by it. He knows Carey can tell, too, by the way Carey draws away from him just a little.

But it's unfair to do that to Carey, especially when they have so much work to do. PK sighs and says, "You're right." Carey is; PK just doesn't like it.

"I'm going to bed," Carey says. "We have to go sell some drugs tomorrow."

PK laughs, but Carey looks as serious as he ever looks. "Wait," PK says. "We have authorization for that?"

When Carey snorts, PK realizes he's been had. "We do have to pretend," Carey says. "But no, we don't have authorization to sell magic-laced drugs."

"I didn't know," PK says. But he kind of likes how amused Carey is. It's like -

Carey looks away and stands up from the couch. "Don't worry about waking me up," he says in clipped tones, and goes back down the hallway.

PK sighs and makes a face at himself. He's never had to keep it in his mental pants before, but it's kind of annoying that he's so bad at it.

He resolutely thinks of everything but Carey when he goes back to bed about an hour later. It's hard when he's ready to actually get into bed, though, because Carey's snoring a little and is spread out all over the bed. PK pushes his limbs to the side enough that he can get on the bed. Neither of them is small, and PK does actually need room. Despite his best attempts, though, he still ends up at the edge of the bed, and Carey's still touching him all along the length of his body. They should've gotten a bigger bed, PK thinks. Why bother with king beds when you can magically grow or shrink any bed as needed?

Still, it's kind of nice; PK's not the one who would hate any physical contact with Carey. He falls asleep quickly and doesn't dream.

He wakes up with what feels like thirty pounds of fur purring on his chest.

"She likes you," Carey says, so close to PK that PK smiles and enjoys the feeling for a second before opening his eyes.

The cat stares back. "Maybe we should name her," PK says, reaching up and scratching behind her ears.

"I've just been calling her Cat," Carey says.

"Oh, come on."

"You're welcome to name her." He feels Carey shrug. "She likes you better, I think."

"Nah," PK says, making kissy noises at the cat.

"She does. She's been staring at you for at least an hour."

PK laughs a little, then pauses. "Wait. Have you been staring at me for an hour?"

He barely manages to not react to the wave of indignation coming from that spot in the back of his mind he's already coming to think of as Carey. "Of course not," Carey says. "I've been drifting in and out."

"What time is it?"

"About seven."

PK stretches, then lifts the cat off and plops her in the narrow space between him and Carey. "We should get up, then."

"We won't hit the clubs until eight or so."

"Suburban drug dealing," PK says. "Kind of lazy, don't you think?"

"We're not actually going to be selling."

"Too bad. I could use some extra money."

"You get hazard pay," Carey points out. "And after Plekanec's front actually ended up being a real business..."

"I know, I know." PK sits up. "I was mostly joking, anyway. My father's a teacher. He'd be ashamed."

"I knew that," Carey says. He sounds so cranky that PK laughs.

"I'll make coffee," he says, pulling on some sweatpants and going out to the kitchen.

He could do it magically, but PK's dated enough Muggleborns that he kind of enjoys actually filling the coffee maker. Plus, some paranoid part of his brain wants to remind him that conserving magic is probably for the best right now. Burly Guy is likely not the most dangerous person they're going to encounter, when all's said and done.

When Carey doesn't come into the kitchen, PK takes both mugs of coffee back to the bedroom. Carey's sitting at the cheap-looking desk, reading through PK's notes.

"Thanks," he says, taking the coffee and tapping the rim to cool it off a little. He runs a hand through his hair, an action that makes it obvious that he's done it before in the past few minutes. "I don't know why I keep going over this information," he adds. "I know it all already."

"It's not bad to make sure," PK says. Carey doesn't look satisfied with that, though, and on top of that, PK can feel how discontent Carey is. So PK reaches out and tries to just kind of - nudge him, just a little, trying to make him feel better.

But Carey jerks upright and stares at PK, face pale. "Don't do that."

"Sorry," PK says immediately. "I thought it would help."

"It doesn't."

"Clearly." PK does his best to look contrite and not excited that he could even do it. "I really am sorry."

"Sure." But Carey looks grim, and PK knows he hasn't exactly won any points with him.

"Anyway," PK says. "Should we do some reconnaissance?"

"How do you think we'll do that? There are spells to detect most cloaking spells."

"Sure," PK says. "But if we send a few birds around, who's going to be the wiser?"

Carey looks at him with new consideration. "Go on."

PK grins, then taps his wand on a napkin and watches it change into a bird.

"It's not alive," PK says. "That's way too powerful an enchantment. But it looks alive, and if we make it listen..." He flicks his wand, then waves it. These days he can say the enchantments in his head, but this is quicker, and PK's never been tied to tradition the way the Death Eaters are sure to.

"Good point," Carey says. He sounds grudging, but PK grins - he knows Carey means it.

"Fly away," he says, lifting the bird. It flaps out the window, not lifelike at all, but close enough that PK's pretty sure no one will notice it.

"Have you always been good at that kind of thing?"

"What kind of thing?"

"Listening - or recording charms."

"Sure," PK says. "I mean, it's part of Auror training, isn't it?"

"Most people are pretty shitty at it."

"My dad's a teacher," PK says again. "He's pretty cutting edge when it comes to revamping how we think about magic."

Carey nods. "That makes sense."

PK waits for the sarcastic comment or implication that PK's going to fuck up, and it doesn't come. Carey's just looking at him, honest and open, with warmth coming through the bond.

This time, it's PK who metaphorically blinks first. "Okay, come on," PK says. "Be sarcastic or something."

"I'm not sarcastic that much."

"Liar."

"I just look sarcastic."

"That's so much better?"

"I think it is."

Carey looks so content, right here in the middle of an open investigation that could get them both killed by Dark wizards, that PK thinks he's going a little crazy. He pulls himself away, doing his best to dampen their mental link, before he does something stupid. "I'm going to go to the store."

"Manually?"

"A Wizarding-heavy community means there's still some Muggles around," PK points out. "Also, I need to clear my head."

"Keep a level one. This is just beginning."

"Well, we're already cursed." PK's smile isn't even forced; in a way, that really is good news. "How much worse could things get, really?"

As it turns out, a lot worse: this suburban grocery store has ten kinds of crackers and PK wants to buy all of them.

That wouldn't really be a problem, except Carey's kept him from buying too much junk on more than one occasion. He's hilarious about it, to the point where PK thinks he might be bribing PK's mom to tattle on him or something. How else would he know that the Auror trainers keep PK on a strict diet so he's as physically fit as possible? The spying and getting PK's mom to tattle is a fun side of Carey that PK finds himself thinking of wistfully, because the more this case winds him up, the more he turns into kind of a sarcastic asshole.

Well, and the curse is probably affecting him too.

PK picks out some groceries and makes it all the way out to the parking lot before the pain starts. It's acute and radiates out from his chest, shocking him so much he almost drops his bags.

No one in the parking lot is doing it. PK would be able to tell, not in the least because he's been on high alert this entire trip. PK makes it to his Muggle car, putting the groceries in the back and collapsing in the driver's seat. The back seat is empty, the car is warded, and the locks are down: it's as safe as PK knows how to make it. Which is good, because he's hurting so badly he can barely think.

He can't imagine what triggered this. It's a component of the curse, PK's pretty sure, but why it would be happening now makes no sense to him. Binding magic works to tie two people together, which means Carey's probably experiencing it too, but -

PK suddenly sits up straight, still shaking with pain. He's an idiot. It's binding magic, and PK's five miles away from the other target.

He drives back to their house in record time. The car has a cloaking spell on it, so it's not nearly as obvious to any potential Muggle police that he's speeding as it otherwise would be; but PK still feels like he's getting away with something when he puts the pedal to the floor and speeds for the house.

The pain starts receding as he gets onto the main road; by the time he's pulling into the driveway, it's entirely gone. PK's still shuddering as he takes his bags in, though (spelled so they won't weigh as much, because PK knows how to use his strength). He's not surprised to see Carey standing rigidly in the kitchen, with a white-knuckled grip on the counter.

"You're not still hurting, are you?" PK says, unable to stop the concern he feels.

Carey glares at him. "No."

"So. That sucked."

"We should've thought of it."

PK's not going to offer an excuse. He knows there's no one. Instead, he starts putting everything away, avoiding Carey as much as possible.

"We will next time," he says finally. "Don't say we won't. I know that look on your face. We will. We were thinking of it as an inconvenience; it's not. It's hostile magic. If Montreal were any other Auror department, we would've trained together before going into the field like this. But they're not, and they figured you being good would be enough."

Carey keeps glaring, so PK says, "Fine, me being good too. But we're both, you know, young, and we fucked up. It won't happen again because we'll make sure it won't happen again. That's a risk we're not going to take in the future."

He doesn't usually say things that long, so after that he clicks his mouth shut. He's kind of surprised when Carey's expression softens and he nods.

"You're right."

"I know."

"And an asshole."

"I know," PK says again, just quieter enough that Carey knows it's an apology to match Carey's admission.

Carey shakes himself a little, then says, "I'm going to go shower."

"Cool," PK says. He goes back out in the living room and pulls out a Muggle laptop. It's magically enhanced, of course, but the important part is it has all his files on it. Martin would never approve - he's strictly a parchment and, in a pinch, paper kind of guy - but Martin doesn't need to know about it.

He's going over the names. Mortimer, the right hand man; Touchette, the Potions expert; Savoie, an Animagus and generally nasty person; and Daraiche, the ringleader and man who directs the illegal movements of nearly fifty illegal businesses in Montreal and the surrounding areas.

It's not, on the surface, that impressive a list. PK knows that Muggles have much more impressive lists, for one. But it's a list that still gives him pause. All of these men have killed people, and all of them are really, really skilled with magic. PK would take him and Carey in most fights, but they haven't been at their best lately.

He really wonders if Martin is crazy, sending them out like this.

But that kind of thinking will just lead to them screwing up more, so PK pushes the thought aside and focuses on making plans. Burly Guy was, undoubtedly, a lackey; if they're going to pretend to sell drugs, the best they can probably do is to lure Touchette out. PK makes a note to have them go to whatever other underground, Dark wizard meeting places Carey knows of, and sow the seeds of rumors that they're working with previously unknown magic. He knows about many of Touchette's experiments, and it won't be hard to imbue the pills Touchette will undoubtedly demand to see with similar magic.

He's still mulling it over when Carey comes out. "Shower's free."

"I'll go in a minute," PK says absently. A touch of hypnosis, mixed with Touchette's modified Imperio, should get him what he wants.

"Are those our placebo pills?" Carey says.

PK glances up at him. He's standing there in a worn shirt and even more worn jeans, feet bare, hair wet and sticking up in spikes. PK's definitely not thinking about how hot he is when he says, "Yeah. I'm going to put some magic in them."

"That's illegal."

Carey doesn't look too mad about it. "I know," PK says. "It's also necessary. When Touchette finds out we've been selling drugs..."

"Potions," Carey says. "Right. But you're just using spells."

PK shrugs. "He used potions to achieve a similar effect. He doesn't need to know I didn't."

Carey whistles. "You've been busy."

"It'll be your job to really sell it to him," PK says. He stands up and stretches. "Okay, I'm going to shower. Then we should probably get caught doing something coupley outside before we leave to sell the pills."

"Sounds good," Carey mutters.

PK leaves him to be moody. He wants a shower so badly he's practically itching with it.

When he's dressed and ready to go, Carey's standing at the door. "Let's get a dog."

PK blinks.

"I'm serious," Carey says. "Cat left, so let's get a dog."

"You let her out?"

Carey shakes his head. "But she's not anywhere. I did a couple searching spells."

PK feels bad about it, even while he's wondering how she left. But Carey looks genuinely upset, so PK says, "Okay, sure. That's coupley, too, so it'll work out."

"That's what I thought," Carey says. "I can take her home when we're done with this."

"Sounds good," PK says. "I'll get my coat."

The adoption place isn't that far away. Carey, PK can see, is a little nervous. He can tamp all that down and not betray a thing when he's in Auror mode, but he relaxes a little around PK. PK's flattered, in between it making him nervous, too.

When they get to the shelter, the woman at the desk takes them to see the dogs. PK hangs back for the most part, watching as Carey goes from dog to dog, speaking to them in a low tone. He's so sweet like this that PK wants to make a joke about getting cavities - or he would, if he didn't think Carey would take it ridiculously seriously. As it is, PK just watches as Carey goes from cage to cage until he stops in front of a big mutt.

They look like they're going to be friends for life from the second the mutt gets out of the cage. She slobbers all over Carey, and Carey laughs, scratching behind her ears saying, "Hey, sweetheart, what's your name? Lacey? That's a good name for a monster like you."

PK's grinning when Carey signs the papers to take Lacey home. "This is going to be awesome."

"You're awfully optimistic."

"Optimism makes the world go round, Kev."

"Some of us don't believe that, Jake."

The shelter employee looks between them with barely disguised anticipation. "Everything appears to be in order," she finally offers.

"Great." Carey smiles at her. "Thanks."

It's not until they're in the car, with Lacey in the back seat, that PK says, "She seems nice. Lacey."

"Shelter says she's six months old." Carey smiles to himself as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I like her."

He sounds, hilariously, like he's confessing to some kind of crime. PK punches him in the shoulder and then reaches back to scratch Lacey.

They stop at the pet store and get all kinds of stuff for Lacey, then go home, careful to hold hands as they go up the steps and laugh like a couple as they haul all the stuff inside. He doesn't notice their company when they get back, not until she jumps up on the table PK has his notes on and meows angrily. "Whoa! Cat, I thought you'd gone."

She meows again, staring at him.

"You left," PK says. "You have to have left. How'd you get back in?"

She jumps off the table and looks up at PK expectantly. PK's not sure he wants to follow a cat's direction, but it can't hurt. He gets up and follows her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and down into the basement.

"Oh, boy," he says. There's a broken window, one that definitely wasn't there yesterday. He flicks his wand at it; the edges glow with magic.

It's a good thing he's not in the habit of using Carey's name much. "Thank you," he tells Cat, and casts reparo on the window.

After that, it's a matter of going around and disabling any listening charms. But there aren't any that he can see, and he knows that Daraiche and his gang aren't that good. He's pretty sure the broken window is either another test or a leadup to something, not the main event.

At least, he thinks that until he flicks his wand up to the ceiling, the last place to check. There's a small nail driven into the ceiling, and it glows when he casts the revealing spell.

That's not exactly the best news ever. PK frowns and casts accio, pulling the nail out and into his palm.

The easiest thing to do would be to throw it out the window, but PK suspects it would find its way back inside. Instead, he slowly unwinds the monitoring spell, drawing it out and removing layers of magic until finally the nail dulls and is just a plain nail in his hand.

He unlatches the window and tosses it outside, just in case, then recasts every security charm he can think of, watching as sparks race around the room and up. Carey will realize he's been up to something, then; but luckily, he's done. He pockets his wand and goes upstairs.

"You've been down there half an hour," Carey says. "What's up?"

"Broken window," PK says. "Did Cat come up here?"

"I thought she - no, there she is." Carey nods. PK turns around and sees Cat sitting at the top of the basement stairs, licking a paw.

PK laughs in spite of himself. "They really, really want to catch us out. Kev."

"Well, Jake, they're more than welcome to keep trying." Carey smiles narrowly. "It's almost three."

"Five more hours."

"Or thereabouts."

They look at each other awkwardly, then Carey says, "I'm going to go check the mail," and all but runs away.

They spend most of the next five hours playing with the animals in front of windows, making sure to touch each other just enough, and breaking for an amazingly domestic dinner. At eight sharp, Carey stands up.

"Time to work some magic," he says. He flicks his wand, and when the green light of a secure room flares, says, "At least you're dressed for the part."

"Oh, so we're playing to stereotypes now?" PK says, nettled. He's just wearing jeans, a v-neck, and a blazer. He'd like to think he doesn't look like someone who sells ecstasy mixed in with something a little extra.

Carey raises his eyebrows. "This is the assignment Martin wanted us to do. Anyway, give it a day and we won't be pushing pills. Hiding bodies, sure, but our days in the clubs will be over."

PK sighs. "Okay," he says.

"Good." Carey pauses, then adds, "Seriously. Just for a day. Maybe two."

"I know," PK says. "Believe me, I do."

Carey looks suspicious, which PK guesses is warranted. But he nods and goes outside.

PK takes a minute to think about just how little he's willing to compromise for a role compared to Carey. Then he pockets the baggies of pills and follows.

The club is nothing like the Dark bar they went to. For starters, this one is full of Muggles. But also, there are strobe lights and neon everything and a ton of really, really almost-naked people.

"Is this a rave?" PK yells over the thumping music. He likes it, and everything, he's always down for some Muggle rap, but still.

"Try to look like you've been here before," Carey yells back. He leads the way past the dance floor, past a bunch of tables, past the bar, and all the way back to a dark corner currently occupied by a really attractive pair of guys making out.

"This is it?" PK can almost speak at not-a-shout. Almost.

"Yep." Carey moves, and PK's eyes widen. He hasn't really done anything, just opened his legs a little, slouched, and lowered his eyes. He looks shady, sure, but he also looks hot.

PK barely has time to react before someone's passing them and Carey says, "Hey, you buying?"

The girl stops, the beats on her halter top jangling. "Who's asking?"

Carey smirks. His lips are full, PK thinks - then tamps down on it when Carey glances at him. "Why don't you show her," Carey says to PK.

PK pulls the placebo, non-magic pills from his pocket. "Ah, here it is. All the uppers you want."

He's sure he sounds ridiculous, but the girl just holds out a $50.

They did, at least, go over pricing. PK hands her five tablets and says, "Take one."

She rolls her eyes. "Thanks, Mom," she says, and leaves before PK has a chance to splutter.

He hears a laugh, and turns to glare at Carey. Carey just grins back. He looks so happy PK's a little offended. 'A little' turns into 'a lot' when Carey says, "That was cute."

"I'll get better," PK says.

"Uh huh."

Carey's flushed, PK can tell, and somehow it puts PK at ease. If Carey's enjoying himself, PK can probably relax, at least a little.

He sits next to Carey and watches people dance and go to and from the bar and the bathroom. It's not exactly exciting, but PK thinks he gets the appeal. Even more so when people come up and they sell them the placebos, until finally two burly guys approach them.

PK doesn't recognize one of them, but the other - looking uncomfortable in his jeans and t-shirt, shoulders tight in his blazer - is Mortimer.

"Well," he says, accent so heavily French PK suspects it's deliberate. "You have my attention."

Chapter 2

PK half expects a duel to break out, but of course things aren't like in dumb kids' novels. PK settles back a little farther, and Carey puts a steady hand on his shoulder and snaps his fingers. When he speaks, his voice sounds like he's speaking directly into PK's ear. "Why don't we go somewhere a little quieter?"

Mortimer narrows his eyes, but he nods. "Follow me," he says, not bothering with - or maybe not knowing - Carey's trick. PK scrambles out of the booth and follows, Carey on his heels.

They go into a back room, Mortimer clearing it with a curt, "Leave." When the door is closed, Mortimer's body man standing in front of it with crossed arms, Mortimer says, "You should have known it was dangerous to deal in my city."

"You're telling me you control the Muggle dealers?" Carey says with a small laugh.

"I control who I want to control." Mortimer raises his eyebrows. He's a very expressive man, PK notes distantly. "And that includes you and your frightened partner."

For one dizzying moment, PK thinks they've been compromised. Then he remembers their cover and says, "Hey."

"He's new," Carey says dismissively.

Mortimer's lip curls. "He must be, how do you say it? Amazing in the sack."

"You know how we say it," Carey says. "Let's not pretend, hmm?"

"Very well." Mortimer goes back to looking bored. "I'm interested in - recruiting you, we'll say."

"What if we don't want to be recruited?" PK says impulsively.

He ignores the pulse of worry through his and Carey's currently-inconvenient curse and looks at Mortimer steadily. "I'm not interested in selling unicorn horn and cursed rings," he adds when Mortimer doesn't say anything.

"New, you said," Mortimer says finally.

"Relatively," Carey says.

"I see." Mortimer sighs. "You will show me what you sold, and then I will decide where you go."

This, they've rehearsed. PK doesn't bat an eyelash, just pulls the baggie of spelled pills out of his pocket and says, "You mean this?"

"Yes," Mortimer says, and holds out a hand.

PK almost deposits the entire baggie in Mortimer's hand, but then he gets a feeling from the curse, and that sparks inspiration. He pulls a single pill out of the baggie and hands it over.

"Preserving value?"

"Wouldn't want to just throw them away," PK says, smiling and aiming for cluelessness.

It works, apparently. Mortimer disregards him and puts his wand against the pill, whispering an incantation so quietly PK can't hear it. The pill glows, and Mortimer glances up at them with renewed interest.

"Giving magic to Muggles," he says. "Whatever shall we do with you?"

Carey finally speaks. "Put us in charge of your shipments."

Mortimer laughs. It's high and grating, and PK feels like it bounces off the concrete and drives straight into his ears. "Not the trade itself?"

"You have someone for that," Carey says.

"So you did your homework."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Neither is your partner, apparently. I assume you didn't just happen to move into my neighborhood."

"Muggles and idiots believe in coincidences," Carey says.

"I see." Mortimer pockets the pill and switches to French. "You might be bold, but I cannot put you in charge of any shipments at all. That's simply not how an operation such as mine works."

"It was worth a shot," PK says.

His French isn't as good as Carey's and he knows it, but he really thinks it's kind of ridiculous, how surprised Mortimer looks. Mortimer doesn't answer him directly, though, looking between him and Carey and saying, "The airport. Tomorrow, eleven PM. If you're late I'll hex you until your own mothers don't recognize you."

He doesn't give them a chance to answer: he walks out, henchman following, before either of them says anything.

"Well," PK says when they've Apparated home. "I think that went well."

Carey's silent. PK knows better than to prod him, so he goes out to the kitchen and gets them both Muggle beer before sitting down in the living room. Carey casts silencing spells, sits down on the other side of the couch, grabs the beer, and finally says, "We can't use the curse."

"Huh?"

"The curse," Carey says. He's speaking slowly, deliberately. PK gets the feeling he's saying something pretty hard. "We need to stop using it."

"Okay," PK says. "I thought it was useful, though."

"That's the problem. They cursed us with something useful because they expect us to use it. If we rely on it, something tells me that curse will unravel."

It's solid logic, and PK has no reason to argue with it. But his mind catches on something, and he says, "That doesn't mean we shouldn't use it, though."

"Oh?"

It's a leading oh, the kind Hal will give him when he's about to expound on why PK's wrong about the structure of a spell, in a way that throws PK back to school. But it's not like PK's ever backed away from Hal, or any of his teachers. His dad's the only one who can really make him shut up. He says, "If we have a tool, we use it. It's that simple. There's no reason we shouldn't use it while we have it. You can use something without being dependent on it. Otherwise, why would we use magic?"

Carey blinks. "Huh."

"I just think we should use it." PK shrugs. "We'll be fine. Or we won't be. But if we don't use it, that's like casting lumos when you could light five sconces."

"Sconces?" Carey says with a wry smile.

"I was going for an old-school feel," PK says, but he laughs and sips his beer.

They go to bed early. Well, not actually early, but early compared to when they got home. Carey brushes his teeth while PK changes, and vice versa. Carey's the one who snaps his fingers and extinguishes the lights; PK closes his eyes and does his best to sleep.

It's hard. Like this, their curse is a lot more obvious. PK doesn't really know what to do with that; he feels weird about it, even as he knows it's useful. He doesn't want to dwell on it and he doesn't want to be weird at Carey because of it. He just -

"Stop thinking," Carey mumbles, kicking behind him and connecting with PK's shin.

"Easier said than done," PK says.

"You don't normally have a problem with it."

"Hey."

"Joke."

Irritation and affection gets sent via the curse. PK smiles to himself. "You're a softie."

"M'not."

"You're a softie and you snore a little when you sleep."

"Fuck yourself," Carey says, shifting onto his stomach.

PK laughs a little, quietly. Carey's asleep soon after that, and PK follows. There's no real reason for him to stay awake, and PK's never been that big a worrier. That's Carey's job.

They spend the next day hanging out and not doing a whole lot beyond trying to look vaguely criminal whenever they're in front of a window. PK's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to tell if Carey's nervous or not without the curse - but he's not nervous, not at all. It's kind of amazing, actually, how excited he is.

"I think there might be something wrong with you," PK says over dinner (takeout for tonight, because they'll be reimbursed the Muggle money they spent with Galleons).

"What?"

"You're excited."

"Our job is moving along. Of course I'm excited."

PK can appreciate that level of double-speak, just in case there's a listening charm. "True," he says. "But it's dangerous."

Another spike of excitement. PK snorts and eats his lo mein.

"Anyway," he says after awhile, "if we're meeting at the airport, it can't be that big a deal."

"He might just have us grab a Portkey. There's a certain symmetry there."

But PK knows, and he knows that Carey knows, that flying in Muggle airplanes is exactly how Death Eaters have been sneaking into Canada to begin with. That's why PK's kind of nervous, and why Carey's so excited.

"Maybe," he agrees, and they go back to eating in silence.

They wrap themselves in dark cloaks and cast three deflection spells before Apparating. They manage to place themselves on the tarmac easily. Muggle airports are one of the things that Aurors are taught about, because so much crime - Wizarding and otherwise - has happened on them. Usually fancy crime, white collar crime, the kind of crime Aurors find just as hard to hunt down as Muggle police. But that's beside the point, and PK's only thinking about it because he's nervous; the actual point is, they know where to go from the point they Apparate to.

"Let's go," Carey says quietly. They walk across the tarmac, towards the small plane and the people standing, watching it.

"Who's in the plane?" PK says in French when they draw level with the people. He does his best to sound cheerful and clueless.

"Someone interesting," the guy next to him says.

Screw it. PK sticks his hand out. "Hi," he says. "I'm Jake."

"Liam."

"Anglo?"

"So are you."

"My French is great," PK says. He plays up his offense a little, but he totally does feel a little offended. If the curse is any judge, Carey's amused.

"Sure," Liam says. "Who's your friend?"

"The brains of the operation." PK looks over his shoulder at Carey. "This is Kev."

"Pleasure," Carey says, nodding.

He does 'aloof criminal' really well, PK can't help but notice.

"So," PK says. "We're waiting for someone mysterious."

"Are you always this chatty?"

PK blinks at Liam. "Should I not be?"

"The Muggles won't notice us," Liam says. "Not that you have any interest in that."

"I do." PK decides to fall silent, remembering suddenly that he did actually tell himself Carey would have the lead on all this. He doesn't speak again; about fifteen minutes later, the door of the plane opens and steps slowly lower.

"Muggle technology," Carey mutters. He injects just the right amount of contempt into it.

"Indeed," Liam says dryly.

Three wizards walk down the steps. PK doesn't recognize any of them, which makes sense; Mortimer wouldn't invite practical strangers to take any high-profile Dark wizards around town. But they're definitely Dark wizards, with the Dark Mark obvious on all their forearms.

PK whistles. Liam says, "Cut it out," and walks forward to meet the wizards.

After that, PK hangs back. He's made it obvious to Mortimer's lackeys that he's not a threat; now it's Carey's job to convince them that he, actually, is.

Carey does a good job. A few wandless spells here, a few smirking references to illegal stuff done in the past there, and by the end of the night, people are reasonably wary of them. That's long enough for PK to find out that the three Dark wizards are Mitt Lerner, Frank Delay, and Tait McKinney. They're low-profile, purebloods - and isn't that a word PK's tired of hearing, professionally and otherwise - but of questionable English heritage.

And it's PK and Carey's job to babysit them.

"It's not babysitting," Carey says when PK brings it up in their bedroom, behind the cover of anti-listening charms.

"It is, though," PK says.

Carey sighs and pulls his shirt off, tossing it on the floor with his abandoned robes. "Yeah, maybe. But we have to do it, so." He pulls his pants off and then stops, glaring at PK. "Are you going to just stand there all night?"

For a second, PK thinks it's an invitation. But then he gets with the program and says, "Okay. Right," and goes into the bathroom so he doesn't have to watch Carey bend over to retrieve his clothes.

"We start tomorrow," Carey says the next morning.

"Great," PK says. "So what are we going to do today?"

"Lay low."

"Lay low?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Not really," PK admits. "I just might go crazy."

"We have an X-Box."

"I never really played Muggle games." PK puts his shirt on, not missing the way Carey's eyes follow the movement. They really should just sleep together and get it out of their systems. But apparently Carey doesn't operate that way.

"It's easy," Carey says. He swallows and meets PK's eyes. "Come on. I'll show you."

Two hours later, they've forgotten about coffee and even food in favor of trying to kill everything in Halo 4. "This is awesome," PK says. "Why haven't I done this before?"

"I hadn't until Auror school," Carey says. He leans back and shoots. "I had a Muggleborn roommate."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Carey makes a noise of dissatisfaction as he's hit. "Halak."

"Huh. Is he in Quebec now?"

"No," Carey says in a flat voice.

Well, that's that line of conversation shut down. PK sighs internally and goes back to playing. Someday, Carey will tell him details of his life that aren't shrouded in mystery. PK's chosen to keep the faith, because otherwise he might go a little crazy.

They make lunch around 2. "We should do something sinister in front of the windows," PK says as he puts mustard on his sandwich.

"Should we?"

Carey's voice is carefully neutral, and PK's getting nothing from the curse. He hesitates, then says, "Did they say anything to you?"

"They said plenty of things to me." Carey shrugs. "I'm not sure what's important and what's not."

"You should tell me. I'm your partner."

"I know," Carey says. "That's not the problem. Or it is, rather."

"Huh?" PK definitely doesn't follow.

Carey looks at him, and for a split second it's like all the air's been sucked out of the room. There's so much want coming at him from Carey that PK's frozen as Carey steps forward, angles their bodies so they're visible from the window facing their neighbors' house, and kisses him.

It's long, and slow, and PK thinks distantly that he really should've known Carey would be good at this. But in the end it's just sex, so he gets with the program pretty quickly, putting a hand on Carey's hip and kissing back.

Then Carey steps back just as quickly as he stepped in, and it's like an Imperio breaking. PK blinks and says, "So is that your wand or are you just happy to see me?"

Carey snorts. "You're not funny," he says, and grabs his sandwich, walking quickly out to the living room.

PK's not going to analyze that. Analyzing things is his job, and okay, technically this is his job too - but it was just for verisimilitude. That's all, PK reminds himself.

He finishes making his sandwich, but he eats it in the kitchen. He tells himself he's not hiding, and confirms it with himself by going out to the living room once he's done. Carey's plate is sitting on the coffee table, so PK flicks his wand at it so it floats out into the kitchen.

"So," he says, sitting down.

"It's for the job," Carey says, not looking at him.

"We could fuck," PK says.

Carey goes very, very still. "What?"

"You heard me." PK shrugs. "I'd be fun. I'm usually up for it."

"So I've heard."

PK thinks that's maybe supposed to be a dig, but it's not like Carey's the first person who's said something like that to him. Mostly it's just hassling from people at the station, no big deal. "Anyway, it doesn't have to be a big deal. Me and Dominique -"

"We're not sleeping together on a case," Carey says before PK has time to talk about playing shinny and then Apparating back to PK's, and what a big deal it wasn't in the morning.

"Sure," PK says. "But you know, after."

"No."

"Okay," PK says, and drops it. He doesn't want to pressure Carey. He's not that desperate, and anyway, he and Carey aren't - they aren't like that. PK's fine with that. It's not like he doesn't have other people he can sleep with.

The rest of the day passes too slowly for PK's comfort. Carey makes dinner, a stir-fry that takes ten minutes and tastes better than PK thinks it should, all things considered. They go to bed early, both of them going over casefiles in bed and pretending it's morning. The next day, they put all the files in the spell-reinforced file folder they have for this occasion, and go next door.

Liam answers the door. "Took you long enough."

"We're on time," Carey says. He has the kind of lazy interest that makes PK think of a cat right before it scratches you. They could use a little of that, PK thinks. "Are our charges here?"

"I told you, you're not babysitters."

"And I told you, I know a babysitting job when I see one." Carey flicks his wand. The front door slams inward, hinges squealing. Carey walks in, past Liam, like it's no big deal. PK gives Liam a smile and hastily follows.

Lerner, Delay, and McKinney are all sitting in the living room. They look sour, so much so that PK really thinks they're playing to type a bit too much. They're glaring at the wall, wands out, and when PK and Carey walk in, they shift their glares to them.

"Hey," PK says, determinedly ignoring the tension. "I'm Jake. This is Kev. We're here to escort you around Quebec."

"Babysit us, you mean," Delay says. "Right bunch of horse manure, if you ask me."

"Shut it," McKinney says. "Do you really want to be handed in to the Ministry?"

"I want -"

"Food?" Carey interrupts. He flicks his wand at the table, and a book is Transfigured into a bowl of fruit. Even PK's impressed. "Entertainment? I can't provide you any Muggles to torture, but maybe at a later date."

"We're supposed to get involved in business," Lerner says. "Something tells me you lot ain't exactly the cream of the crop."

"Neither were you," PK points out. "You're not exactly the Malfoys, are you?"

"Fuck off," Delay says. "Merlin's balls, do we really have to put up with these two for weeks?"

"Until Mortimer decides you can be trusted," Liam says smoothly. "You're welcome to explore the city, but any attempts to enter circles of...disreputable business, and you will be removed immediately. Painfully."

PK thinks this is all pretty dramatic, but he keeps his mouth shut, crossing his arms and looking down at the three.

For the rest of the day, PK and Carey escort them through Montreal. PK at first thinks it'll be really dramatic and tension-filled, but that ends up not being the case, really, really quickly. They go to a cafe, and around the city center, and they visit the harbor. No one tries to do anything illegal by Muggle or Wizarding standards. By the end of the day, PK's itching to cast a hex just because they didn't mention boring sightseeing in Auror training.

"That was exhausting," he says when they get back to the house. He collapses dramatically on the couch.

"Oh, come on," Carey says. "It was fine."

"Exhausting," PK insists. "Soul-killing. Horrible. Life-ruining."

Carey snorts and shoves PK's feet away, sitting down on the couch. "Well, we have to do it again tomorrow."

PK casts a listening spell. "How long before Mortimer trusts us? Or Liam. Whoever."

"It'll take awhile," Carey says. "You know that."

He does; he's just being ridiculous for the sake of it. PK sits up. "Yeah," he says. "It makes sense that they'd be the ones sent over, though."

Carey glances over at him. "Yeah?"

PK nods. "Sure. If they suspect we're onto them, better no-names get caught than people higher up, you know? They still want Britain to be the center of power. Canada's just a pit stop."

"They can't possibly be thinking about resurrecting the Death Eaters again."

"Of course they are," PK says. "They're extremists."

"I guess." Carey sighs. "I won't say I get why."

"Me neither," PK says.

"You do, though."

PK grins. "Are you calling me evil?"

"I'm saying you get it," Carey says. "It's a compliment. Learn to take it."

"Yeah, yeah," PK says. "Well, anyway, they're trying to start it up again. There's no way they're not."

"We need to make a report."

"In person?"

"Unfortunately," Carey says grimly.

"Hey, I've been pushing them to adopt better Wizarding technology for ages," PK says. "Where are we going?"

"La Nuit."

"You can't be serious."

"Polyjuiced," Carey says.

"Oh." It does make a kind of sense. "Okay, then. When?"

"Three AM."

"Carey!"

Carey out-and-out laughs at him. "So get ready," he says, getting up. "I'm going to go to bed."

PK lets him go. He's not nervous about the meetup, but he wants to have notes prepared. Carey, he knows, will just give an oral report and call it a day. He's good enough that that's not really a concern for him. But PK...well. He knows how Martin feels about him, and he doesn't want to give Martin any reason to give him shit. So he conjures some parchment, really old-fashioned stuff, and begins writing.

When he's written what he thinks is a pretty comprehensive report, it's almost eleven. Waking up just before three is going to be the worst, he thinks, but at least he'll get to sleep a little.

He slips into bed and closes his eyes. The bed is warm, a product of Carey being a one-man furnace. PK wants to move against him; it's weird, spending so much time not even really touching anyone. But Carey doesn't want that, and anyway, PK should probably get over it. They're in deep cover and could be for a long time, and their cover is that they're more or less devoted to each other, in an evil way. So he can't just run around hooking up.

It's fine, he tells himself as he slowly falls asleep. It's perfectly fine.

Carey wakes him up at ten to three. "Put your robes on, we need to Apparate," he says.

PK groans. "Okay, okay." He sits up, yawning. "I'm up."

Carey goes into the bathroom. PK stumbles upright and pulls his robes on, not bothering to change out of his pajama pants. They won't really be able to see them, and anyway, it's not like they can reasonably be expected to be up to dress code at three AM. Especially since they're undercover.

They choke down the Polyjuice, transform, and Apparate, bleary-eyed, to La Nuit. They're about the same size and weight, but PK's a white dude now, and Carey has bright red hair. Carey leads them to the right table, and they sit down across from a guy PK doesn't recognize until he taps the table three times.

It's Hal, also Polyjuiced.

"How goes it?" Hal says.

"Fine," Carey says.

"Here." PK pushes a Galleon across the table. "Password's un."

"One? Really?" Hal says.

PK shrugs. "Simple enough." When Hal casts revelare and says the password, the Galleon will become the documents PK was writing.

"We have their trust," Carey says. "Minimal, but we can work with it from there. Our suspicion about the smuggling was right."

"Means?"

"The Muggle airport."

"Not deviating from tradition, are they?" Hal strokes his moustache. PK secretly suspects he's enjoying this. "I'm supposed to pass on the message to continue as you are. We'll send you a response to your report within the week. I did ask for a more specific date, but specificity apparently isn't a strength of -"

"Thanks," Carey says. PK glances at him, somewhat in awe. He would never cut off Hal like that. "We're done, then."

"We are. Unless you want to stay." Hal looks between PK and Carey with an expression PK's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to read even if Hal had his normal face.

"We'll be fine," Carey says. "Let's go." He stands.

Hal pockets the Galleon, but doesn't move. He does have a firewhiskey, PK supposes. For his part, PK says, "I'll see you."

"You will," Hal says.

It's the most comforting thing PK's heard since he started this case. He nods and leaves, following Carey and Apparating as soon as he gets outside.

"Well," PK says as they sit around, waiting for the Polyjuice to fade.

Carey's nose is shrinking, he notes as Carey says, "Hal's a character."

"I like him."

"I never said you shouldn't." Carey raises his eyebrows. "You get a lot of shit, huh."

"It's not like you don't."

"True enough." Carey sips his butterbeer. "They've always put me undercover alone before."

It's such a breach of protocol that at first PK doesn't even process it. Then it sinks in and he says, "Wait, alone? But -"

"I know, they're not supposed to." Carey shrugs. "I had a partner for awhile. Then I didn't. I'm a pain in the ass, apparently."

He says it with the kind of cynical amusement PK honestly can't imagine having. But then, he's nothing like Carey, even though he wants to understand Carey almost as much as he wants to solve this case and bring Mortimer and his gang to justice. "Well, I'm clueless and I don't work hard enough," he finally offers.

Carey's mouth becomes a hard, flat line. "That's bullshit," he snaps. His skin shifts back to its normal color, hair darkening, and in a few moments of tense, drawn-out silence, he becomes Carey again.

"Um," PK says, because he got kind of distracted watching the transformation, but it's not like he doesn't remember what Carey was saying before.

"You heard me."

"I know it's bullshit," PK finally says. "Do you know yours is?"

Carey shrugs. "Sure."

"Okay then," PK says. "Great." He looks down at his hands. They're normal again. "Let's go to bed," he says, because he's getting this ridiculous churning tangle of emotions from Carey, and if it doesn't calm down he's going to - he doesn't know. He's never felt like Carey feels right now in his life.

They go to bed, neither of them talking. They don't talk much when they wake up in the morning, either. PK's settling back into his Jake persona, reminding himself that he's an amoral, evil Dark wizard who's married to someone he has sex with all the time. As far as he's concerned, the attributes are equally important.

When they're dressed, they leave to go next door. They don't have a chance to show McKinney, Delay, and Lerner Old Montreal, though; when they get inside, Liam says, "We've had a chance to look at that pill you handed over."

PK blinks. "My pill?"

"Interesting spellwork on it."

"Thanks."

"I wasn't complimenting you." Liam holds out a scrap of parchment. "Here's the spell we want you five to put on these." He leads them out into the kitchen. About three thousand pills are stacked neatly on the table.

"You can, of course, use magic to seal them appropriately," Liam says. He makes it sound like he's giving them some kind of awesome present.

"Great." PK smiles widely. He knows from experience that nothing he's thinking will be obvious right now. "Thanks!"

That means they spend most of the day being an assembly line, spelling pills with the complicated rework of the spell PK originally used. It's not a good rework, even; there are problems with the combination of spells that means PK could nullify the whole thing with a flick of his wand. But he's not going to get picky about it. This is work they can do, and he's getting a front-row seat to how the guys they're babysitting cast spells.

He can tell Carey's watching it, too, but he's reasonably sure it's not obvious to anyone else. He spells pill after pill, until he's exhausted and pretty sure he couldn't cast anything more complicated than lumos.

Then, as the sun is going down, Liam comes back in and says, "That'll be enough, gentlemen."

"Fuckin' right it'll be enough," McKinney mutters.

"This was fun," PK says.

"Are you dim or lying?" Liam snaps.

PK blinks. Carey interjects quickly. "He's just enthusiastic," he says. "Do they not have that in Britain?"

"Leave," Liam says.

PK guesses it's too much to hope he'd answer directly.

He manages to keep his laughter in until they get inside their own house. "Come on, man," he says when Carey frowns at him. "That was kind of funny."

"That was a test, and you're not acting like a Mob member at all."

But he can tell Carey knows that's the point, so PK just says, "They trust you, though. And you'll drag me along."

"And you're observant, so everyone will be looking away when you get enough details to send them to La Joie de Vie."

PK thinks, not for the first time, that whoever founded Quebec's only and frankly horrible Wizarding prison had a weird sense of humor. "Yeah," he says. "Well, that's my job."

"I know."

"I think -"

PK forgets what he's going to say he thinks. He forgets everything, in fact, because an arrow - an honest to God arrow - shatters the window, breaks the protective spells with a horrible tearing noise, and embeds itself in his side.

It hurts. It hurts really badly, actually, the kind of hurt that makes PK think he really should have just become a Potions professor at the Ontario School of Magic the way Dad wanted him to. He thinks he cries out, but he's not sure; he falls to the floor and watches as Carey hurls the protection spells back up, with a sudden flare of power PK didn't even know Carey had, then falls to his knees, hands coming up to touch PK's face.

"You're going to be fine," Carey says. His voice sounds funny, and PK realizes he's probably passing out.

Then everything goes dark.

When he wakes up, his side hurts like hell. It's bandaged, though, and PK's still alive, so he's got a few things going for him. He's also lying in his and Carey's bed.

"Ow," he says, sitting up gingerly. "Did Liam -"

"It wasn't him," Carey says. "Careful, you've got a regenerating potion in you."

That explains it. "Liam?" PK says, leaning back.

"Brought it over," Carey confirms. "He seemed concerned."

"Kind of weird he had it waiting."

"Martin didn't tell us we were walking into a turf war."

He's never, with Carey or Hal or anyone else, actually said the things he sometimes thinks about Martin, or the Montreal branch of the Aurors in general. He doesn't say it now, either. He just says, "With who?"

"Muggles."

PK blinks, then blinks again. "Okay. I know I'm sort of full of healing spells, but -"

"Muggles. You heard right." Carey sighs. "I'll tell you the details in the morning. Mortimer's generously given us the day off. Rest up." He snaps his fingers, turning the lights off, and leaves the room before PK can protest that it's fine if Carey stays here, too.

He wakes up early the next morning. His side feels fine; pulling the bandages away reveals smooth, undamaged skin. He throws them in the trash and stretches, grabbing some Muggle clothes and going to shower. He still feels a little weak, weak enough that showering is kind of a pain; but by the time he makes it downstairs, the scent of coffee making his head swim, he's definitely sure he's on the mend.

Carey's moving around in the kitchen, wearing low-slung pajama pants and no shirt. He turns to look at PK when PK opens the cabinet to get a mug. PK feels a sudden unknotting, which is when he realizes that at least half of how tense he felt was Carey's own worry. That realization comes on the heels of pain as Carey knocks him back against the counter and kisses him frantically.

PK makes a muffled 'ow' noise into Carey's mouth, but then he gets with the program and starts kissing Carey. He pulls Carey closer, fisting his hands in Carey's pajama pants and kissing back until Carey groans into his mouth, fingers digging into PK's biceps.

Everything kind of hurts and they're in the sightline of a window, which is probably the whole point for Carey, and PK doesn't care. He doesn't care in the slightest, because Carey's sliding one hand down to his ass, and he can feel Carey getting hard, and right now his priority is getting this to somewhere where he can get Carey to fuck his mouth, where he can kiss Carey wherever he wants and bite his neck and touch as much as he wants.

"Couch," he says when Carey pulls away to nibble at PK's throat. Carey mumbles what PK hopes is assent and jerks away from PK, grabbing his wrist with a ridiculously tight grip and pulling him over to the couch. He shoves PK down and covers him, arching his back so they're pressing together, hips thrusting against each other. PK's so turned on he can barely stand it; he tugs at Carey's pants until Carey wiggles out of them, then grabs Carey's ass, guiding Carey's thrusts as he kisses Carey.

PK made the mistake of putting sweatpants on, which he's bitterly regretting even as Carey bites his neck hard and tugs at them. He lifts his ass off the couch so Carey can get them down, then moans involuntarily when his dick rubs against Carey's stomach. He's already almost hard, and he wants so much that he feels clumsy and sixteen again. "Carey," he manages when Carey worries the skin at the curve of his shoulder and neck. "We should -"

"I'm going to blow you," Carey says. He sounds all flat, almost like he's pissed. If that's his sex voice then it's really not sexy, which means there's no reason for PK to do a full-body shudder.

"Yes," he hears himself say, and then Carey's nipping his way down PK's body. He's almost smiling, the asshole, right until he gets level with PK's dick. Then he glances up at PK and rubs his thumb over the head, jerks him off a little, taking the kind of care with PK's foreskin that means he's had practice with this, oh God. PK stops pretending he has any kind of modesty and throws his head back, thrusting up into Carey's hand.

He's had his fair share of blowjobs, but never from someone as goal-oriented as Carey. It's dizzying in the best way, and PK's pretty sure at least part of the dizziness isn't even the healing potion.

"Oh, fuck," he says when Carey bobs his head. He looks good, too, this is so good, and he's not sure what it says about him that he's this into Carey's terrifyingly thorough intenseness.

Carey doesn't smile, doesn't even look up at him - he just doubles down and sucks harder, running his fingers over PK's balls, down to his ass. PK lets himself get lost in the sensation, until he's about to come. He says, "Carey -" and Carey pulls off, finally looking up at PK as he jacks him through an orgasm.

"Now you," PK says, tugging Carey up.

"PK -"

PK gets his hand on Carey's dick and jerks him off, a quick motion that's a lot easier to do than you'd think from the noises Carey makes. He thrusts into PK's fist and bites PK's shoulder as he comes.

After, PK just kind of lies there for a minute, mind blown. Carey sits up, but PK doesn't mind, since he keeps glancing down at PK with a smug smile on his face.

"Yeah, laugh it up," PK says.

"Oh, I will," Carey says. "You look good."

PK flips him off lazily. "Jackass."

Carey smirks some more. "And?"

"Oh, nothing," PK says. "Anyway, that was fun."

Carey still looks hunted, but it's faded a bit - enough that PK's not borderline scared of him. "It was," Carey finally says.

PK smiles at him hopefully.

"Oh, fine," Carey says. "We'll do it again. You jackass."

PK fistpumps. "Oh, yeah."

Carey rolls his eyes and stands. "We have to do an incident report." They can send it from the house, PK knows, but that just means they really have to do it, and can't get out of it.

"Paperwork, Carey? You're killing the afterglow."

"Get up," Carey says, smacking the back of PK's head.

PK will take it. It's better than Carey's awful desperation and it's definitely better than almost dying.

He showers and then does the paperwork while Carey's showering. It's kind of maddening, but PK fills it out as best as he can, then puts it in the box spelled to mirror its contents in Martin's office.

They don't get a response that day. Things are kind of weird and tense, and PK has to take breaks several times to lie on the couch and regret his whole life. It's not until dinner that Carey says, "We're going to have to deal with Montreal."

PK glances around, for the comfort of knowing they're protected from listening ears as much as anything else. "Yeah?"

Carey nods. "You know we will."

"I'm not sure how we can deal with them," PK hedges.

Carey shrugs. "I've been fighting them for years."

PK remembers, vaguely, hearing about and seeing Carey before he was assigned to be Carey's partner. From what he knows, that's an accurate summation. "Sure," PK says. "I just want to be an Auror, though."

"I know," Carey says. "But we're in a dangerous spot, here."

"What kind of Muggle shoots an arrow, anyway?"

"Making a statement." But Carey looks bothered by it, too.

So PK voices what he knows they're both thinking and says, "It's not normal."

"No," Carey says. "It's really not."

"But?"

"That's what Liam's told us, and I believe there's a turf war," Carey says. "So we stick to the plan of being shady and work around attempted murder."

It's kind of a hell of a line, but he delivers it like he's telling PK what kind of pizza to make for dinner. PK takes another bite of his noodles and says, "Okay."

"Just like that?"

"What'd you think I'd say?"

"I've had partners who don't like that kind of thing."

"Well, I'm not one of them. We're going to do what we have to do."

Carey's looking at him with a hard, inscrutable expression. PK blinks at him, then takes another bite of noodles. It seems like the thing to do.

"Okay," Carey says finally. They go back to eating in silence.

Fortunately, in the next week, no one gets shot. It's, overall, really low-key and calm. PK and Carey don't sleep together, or even talk about it, though a few times Carey has kissed him mid-laugh. For the cover, PK assumes. Of course, they're still colluding with Dark wizards and moving several thousand illegally magically infused pills per day; PK and Carey can't even fake it when they enchant the pills.

But Liam is starting to trust them more and more, and PK knows both his and Carey's wandwork is good enough that Liam will want to bring them in on more complex work. So he's not surprised when, after a week and three days, Liam pulls them aside and says, "Mortimer wants to meet with you."

"La Nuit?" PK says.

"La Nuit," Liam confirms. "Eleven tonight. Don't be late."

PK smiles, keeping to his somewhat dim routine. Liam can't buy it completely, considering his spellwork, but PK's pretty sure he's sold the guy on PK being kind of clueless about the realities of a criminal lifestyle.

"What do you think this is?" Carey says when they get back to their house.

"A test," PK says. "Which is what you're giving me too, by the way."

Carey smiles. "Good job. You passed."

PK thinks, distantly, that maybe he shouldn't have had to learn investigative work on the fly. "Great," he says. "What do I get?"

He doesn't even realize he's flirting until Carey frowns. "Not dead, for starters."

"Buzzkill," PK grumbles, but he escapes to the living room. Carey's not exactly subtle when he needs space.

La Nuit is almost abandoned when they enter it at 10:55. PK sees the reason why right away. Mortimer's sitting at a table in the dead center of the room, old-fashioned pointed hat pulled low over his eyes, smoking a Muggle gangster-style cigar. He looks mean and scary as hell. PK himself can't even ignore his sudden urge to turn around and put as much space between himself and Mortimer as possible.

He doesn't, of course. He and Carey walk forward and sit across from Mortimer. But the menace is just rolling off of him.

"Well," Mortimer says. His French still sounds sneering, sinister. "You haven't screwed up too badly. Yet."

"We've tried not to," PK says.

"We understand how earning trust works," Carey adds.

"And yet, you never ran with a gang in Toronto."

PK takes a moment to wonder if Mortimer just seriously used the phrase "ran with a gang". Then he says, "We're small-time. We want to stop being small-time, you know?"

"I do know," Mortimer says. "After all, I'm here."

"Uh huh," PK says. "You're here, and that's great and all, but we'd like to be here too. You know what I'm saying?"

"What he's saying," Carey cuts in, "is that we don't want to work for you if we don't get our piece of the pie. However small it is."

"I understand." Mortimer leans back, but his had still casts a shadow over his eyes. "You want to know there's a reward in it for you."

"I want to see that reward, and collect it," Carey says.

He might as well have tossed a cursed Galleon on the table as a wager. Mortimer stiffens and says, "So that's how it is."

"Were you expecting something else?" Carey asks.

"Not particularly," Mortimer says. "I find this is an interesting development, though. You've been here a week. What makes you think you've earned it?"

"We've done a week of babysitting Death Eaters and casting spells complicated enough they're worth thousands of Galleons," Carey says.

"Is that meant to impress me?"

"It's meant to point out that you have some serious paying up to do."

PK's careful not to betray his shock, but it's definitely, definitely there. But Mortimer, to his shock, tilts his head back and laughs. Heartily. For a long time.

"You've got style, I'll give you that," he says when he stops. "Fine. You noticed they're Death Eaters."

"They have the Mark," Carey says.

"That they do. That's a side venture. The real money's in Dark objects."

"The Muggle crime?"

"Also a side venture. I keep my fingers in a lot of pots."

"Probably wise of you." Carey leans back. "And you want us to have our finger in the Dark objects pot."

"I want you to make Dark objects."

"Complex spell-casting that can be verified by people you trust." Carey narrows his eyes. "Not the top of the pyramid, considering who you might be spiriting away to Quebec soon."

PK thinks that might be a little too on the nose, but Mortimer doesn't so much as blink. He says, "Keep pushing. I like that," and turns away from them to signal the waiter for another beer.

They've been dismissed. PK sighs to himself as he stands up and leads the way outside.

When they're back home, PK says, "Well. That was exciting."

"You think I pushed too much?"

"No," PK says. "I mean, maybe a little, but not really. I'm just kind of - doesn't it freak you out? What if they figure it out?"

"Then they figure it out," Carey says. "I can't stop doing the job over a little worry."

Carey's borderline suicidality is kind of comforting, PK thinks. It's nice, in a way, him being ready to hurl himself into danger without thinking twice about it. PK will follow, obviously, and that's kind of scary; but it's not so bad he's going to call the whole thing off.

Also, PK trusts they won't actually die. That's definitely a component, too.

"So what's the next step?" PK asks. "What should we do?"

"The job," Carey says, "until we've proven ourselves enough to -"

Three things happen all at once. Cat starts yowling, Lacey runs to the door and starts barking, and the doorbell rings.

PK feels kind of cheated that there's not also a clap of thunder. It definitely feels like there should be.

They go to answer the door together, wands out. Carrying sticks around can be explained away to Muggles; they're not going to go unarmed.

But when they open the door, there's just a woman standing there. A tall woman, white and with lank hair that looks like it hasn't been washed hanging to her shoulders. "Please," she says. Her hand is white-knuckled around her wand. "Help me."

Chapter 3

Carey stands and stares at her, so it falls to PK to help her inside and say, "You can't hurt us in here, you know, there are protective spells a mile thick. Magically speaking."

She blinks at him through her tears. "I know. You're -"

"Abscondite nos," Carey says quickly. Green light leaps from his wand and races to cover the walls.

She nods at him. "Aurors. Thank you."

Now that she's inside, her shoulders are squared. She looks dignified, in spite of how dirty she is. "You're a witch," PK says.

"Without a wand." She smiles a little, bitterly. "Or a Galleon to my name."

"We can fix that," Carey says. "If you tell us what's going on."

"How much do you know about Le Schisme?"

"Mortimer's gang?" PK shrugs. "What all of the Aurors know. How much do you know?"

"Mortimer is powerful," she says. "Did you feel it? Could you?"

"We know it," Carey says. "I don't know about feeling it, though."

"No," PK says. "But my father can feel power, so I know it's possible. Professor Hefford, at Ontario, she could too."

She nods. "He's powerful," she says again. "That's not necessarily terrible, even for a criminal. It's how he gets his power. Please, can I sit down?"

PK feels like a real jerk. "Sure, of course," he says. He leads them out into the living room. She takes the only armchair, leaving PK and Carey to sit on the couch.

"Tell us how he gets his power," Carey says. The words aren't exactly kind, but his voice is low and gentle, and the woman doesn't look worried.

"He drains people," she says.

Three words, easily understood. There's nothing complicated about it, except - "That's impossible," PK says. "Magic isn't from one person, you can't quantify it. It's a force we all draw on, if that. The origins -"

"Aren't easily understood or traced," she says. She switches to English. "I went to the Ontario School of Magic as well."

"I didn't," Carey says with a slight smile.

"What Carey means is, explain. Please," PK adds, offering what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

She has to be wrong. It doesn't make sense otherwise.

"I don't know the spell," she says. "It's not Latin or French. But he finds people, vulnerable people, locks them up, and then..." She waves a pointed finger like a wand. "One at a time, every few days. It weakens them, makes it hard to resist, much less run away. Then he uses the power to control the others."

"You."

She blinks at Carey. "I'm sorry?"

"You mean he weakens you."

PK's kind of amazed by how Carey can say things that bluntly and sound like a nice, understanding person. The woman nods, then takes a shaky breath.

"That doesn't explain how you knew to come to us, though," Carey says.

"He was keeping me at La Nuit." She threads her hands together. "I...he doesn't know. It's not obvious. But I saw you a year ago." She nods at PK. "You were going into the Auror headquarters here. So I knew. And I cast a tracking spell. Just a tiny bit of magic, I could do it wandlessly. And I escaped - that's a long story. But that's how I know."

Carey blinks at PK. "You walk in?"

"There's a coffee shop across the street."

"So you walk in."

PK frowns. "Can we talk about this later?"

Carey looks ready to glare like it's his job, but he drops it. "Anyway," he says, looking back at the woman. "We'll need to make an incident report - what's your name?"

"Melissa."

"Melissa," Carey says, "we'll need to make an incident report, take your statement. You can stay here until we've heard back from the Auror's office, but we'll have to make a room up for you. Hidden, understand, since we're undercover."

"Of course," she says. "Please, may I shower?"

"In a warded bathroom, sure," Carey says. "PK?"

"Follow me," PK says, standing.

When they make it to the hallway, she says quietly, "Is he always so...?"

"Carey? He doesn't work with witnesses, usually." PK offers her a smile. "But he's a whiz at undercover stuff. We'll make sure you're safe. Don't worry."

"That spell. It would show if I was lying."

"It uncovers deceit," PK says, nodding.

"Good," she says. She shivers as they stop in front of the bathroom.

"Go on in," PK says. "There's a spare wand in the cabinet under the sink. Can you use it to clean your clothes?"

She nods. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us yet," PK says. "We're going to be handing you over to the Montreal Aurors. That's an ordeal."

"Still." She shrugs. "Thank you."

She goes into the bathroom without further comment. PK casts a couple concealing spells, then one to keep the house sealed, just in case. As he does it, Cat winds around his ankles.

"Hey, buds," he says, leaning down and picking Cat up. "Bad news, eh?"

Cat just purrs. If only PK had that luxury, he thinks, walking back out to the living room.

Carey's scowling at the far wall. "You don't like it," PK says, setting Cat down and sitting back on the couch. He doesn't need the curse to tell him that, though now that Melissa's done with her story, his awareness of it has ratcheted back up.

"I don't think she's lying, if that's what you mean," Carey says. "But -"

"I know," PK says. "It complicates things."

"Pretty fucking severely," Carey says.

"I know," PK says. "But we have to believe her, at least for now. We've both debriefed people before. If she's lying..."

"We'll know," Carey says. "Yeah. And then she'll try to kill us, with our luck."

PK shrugs. That's the job, and it would be comically stupid to tell Carey that.

"If she's not lying, it's even worse, in a way." Carey covers his eyes for a minute. "How," he says flatly, "the hell, did we not hear anything about this? Aren't we supposed to have intelligence investigating this stuff? First a turf war, now this, and none of it was in any of the files we looked at?"

PK doesn't have an answer, so he doesn't say anything.

"At least now we know what the real industry is," Carey says. "Locking people up and stealing their magic. That's a magical breakthrough buried in layers of absolute shit."

"Is it a breakthrough we want?" PK says.

Carey looks up at him. Complicated, impossible to untangle feelings are raging in the curse between them. PK's pretty sure at least some of them are his, no matter how hard he's trying to stay calm.

"No," Carey says finally. "Definitely not."

"Kind of what I was thinking," PK says. "We need to report to Martin."

Carey nods at the sheet of parchment on the table. "Parchment and everything," he says. "She can't stay with us long."

PK's not going to voice any doubt; he's not going to say what he worries, which is that Martin will make them babysit her rather than taking her in and questioning her the way any Auror station that has it together would. But judging by the look Carey gives him, he's not really keeping it locked down.

Carey gets up wordlessly and puts the parchment in the transfer tray. It disappears; PK sighs and sits down. "What are we going to do?" he asks the table.

"Our jobs," Carey says grimly.

"Would you like to take my statement now?" Melissa says from the doorway.

PK looks at her in surprise. Her hair is dry, her clothes freshly cleaned.

"I have siblings, and we had one bathroom," Melissa says. She sits down at the table. "I'm willing to be questioned."

"It's kind of suspicious how calm you are," PK says.

She gives him a level, measured look. "I'm pretty sure I'm in shock."

Carey glances, obviously and meaningfully, down at her hand. She's clutching the spare wand, knuckles white. Her hand isn't shaking, but PK suddenly suspects that's sheer force of will.

"Shock or not, we should take your statement," Carey says. He grabs a pen and a notebook from the counter and sits down opposite her, next to PK. He taps the pen with his wand, and it goes upright, quivering with the spell.

"Ready?" Carey says.

Melissa nods.

"Go," Carey tells the pen, then says, "Why don't we start with how you met Mortimer?"

"I didn't," Melissa says. "I mean - I did, eventually. But I didn't fall into bad company, or anything. I was kidnapped."

"You don't seem like a person someone might get the jump on," Carey says mildly.

"I don't now. I've been - I was - there for almost a year." She shrugs. "So I was grabbed a year ago, in August. I was locked in that cage for all of it. I don't know where it was; it's Unplottable, I think. Mortimer came in, took my magic, and left, about twice a week."

She's speaking flatly now, and PK wishes he knew what to do in this kind of situation. He says, "I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "Not your fault."

"What my partner means is, we're going to bring him to justice."

Carey normally sounds really dry, PK thinks. Not that he has a problem with it - it's just how Carey is, and PK really likes Carey, so he really likes how dry Carey is. But now he sounds earnest, serious, like PK's really never heard him sound before. It occurs to him that Carey chose to go into being an Auror just like PK did, and maybe PK hasn't thought about what that means, when most of the time Carey's lying and living dangerously to bring people to justice.

"We will," he says quickly. It seems appropriate.

"Thank you," she says. She looks at the pen. "I can draw the object he used, if you want. And if you can record me, I can attempt to reproduce the spell."

PK was going to suggest the latter, and the former's a good idea if she can draw at all, so they get her the materials she requested and sit while she speaks the spell several times and draws a pendant made of twisting snakes. It's all pretty dramatic - PK doesn't know the language the spell is in, either - but it's also consistent enough that PK's now positive Melissa's telling the truth.

That makes it suck even harder when, as Melissa's wrapping it up, they get a message back from headquarters. In Martin's handwriting, it says, "Resources can't be spared. Keep her with you."

PK takes a very deep breath, because now is no time to get mad. Carey doesn't. He crumples up the parchment and throws it violently into the trash, breathing hard, hands clenched. It's not actually that dramatic a response, which is kind of a surprise to PK, because he's getting blind rage through the bond, like being poked with a live wire.

"We have to keep our heads," PK says.

Carey gives him a poisonous look. "I am," he says.

Then PK watches a transformation that's honestly more amazing than Polyjuice. Carey's shoulders relax, and his hands uncurl. His eyes get less crazy, and he breathes deeply before saying, "We keep going. That's all we can do," and going back out to the kitchen to talk to Melissa.

She doesn't have much else to say. PK knows plenty about shock, and he can tell she's going to crash hard soon. Carey gets her a glass of firewhiskey after breaking the news and says, "This is a three-bedroom house. PK and I are going to make your room as secure as we can, but we can't guarantee anything."

"Thanks for not beating around the bush." She sounds like she means it, even. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"We don't want evidence of your magic in the spells," Carey says.

She flicks her wand. "I can hide it."

"What did you say you did, before?" PK can't help but say.

She raises her eyebrows at him. "I worked for a private company specializing in magical artifacts."

So, curse-breaking. Okay. PK trusts her to know her stuff, then. "Great. Let's go."

Putting up the protection spells and the confounding spells isn't that hard. Melissa works with a single-minded passion, putting both Carey and PK almost to shame with the inventive twists of the redirection spells she casts. When Carey looks surprised, she says, "I was very good at my job. And I waited until he was about to come to drain me, so I'd have magic left."

"It's interesting that it regenerates," Carey says.

"Sure," PK says. "When we're done with all this we can write an academic paper."

Carey snorts. "Can't wait."

"Do you mind if I ask you what your plan is?" Melissa says.

They look at her. She looks back, expression unreadable.

"Insinuate ourselves," PK says after a minute. "Capture Mortimer. Bring him to justice."

"He has more magic than both of you combined."

"Which we just learned today," Carey says. "We'll figure out a way to deal with it. Give us a day or two."

"I can't do much else," she says. "I'd like to sleep now, if that's all right."

"Sure," PK says. "Sleep well."

He and Carey leave. When they get to their room, they just kind of stare at each other. PK feels Cat winding her way around his ankles; Lacey is sleeping at the foot of the bed. It's almost like they're an actual couple, PK thinks stupidly. He doesn't even know if he has feelings about that.

"We have to keep working," Carey says finally. "This is still the beginning of our assignment. It could take a long time, and - we have to keep going."

"You said that already," PK says. "And I know, really, I do. There's nothing else we can do."

"Right," Carey says. "Sucks, but there it is."

PK nods. "There it is," he says.

Carey sighs, then says, "Right now we should sleep. Something tells me Mortimer's going to turn up the heat tomorrow."

"No more spelling tiny pills?"

"Maybe," Carey says. "At least we'll get paid."

"That was a gamble."

"Worth it." Carey takes a step forward, then stops, blinking at PK. "So," he says, "let's go."

He says it so nonchalantly that PK almost believes he's unaffected. PK nods and gets into bed, casting small protection spells - to comfort himself as much as anything else - before he puts his wand aside.

He wakes up the next morning with Carey curled around him. It's happened a few times, and PK tries not to read into it; it's really no big deal, having Carey's hand on his chest, their legs tangled together. PK can't help but stare down at him kind of stupidly, though; his expression is all soft, since he's sleeping, and PK wants to keep touching him so badly it's hard to remember all the reasons why that's a horrible idea.

It's even more difficult when Carey rubs his hand over PK's chest a little and makes a low noise in the back of his throat, sounding completely content. He smiles a little, a slow curve of his lips that has PK swallowing and tightening his hand on Carey's shoulder a little - and then Carey wakes up.

The transition is complete in the blink of an eye. He goes from completely asleep to awake and alert, moving away from PK. "Good morning," he says.

No amount of quick reactions can make his voice less gravelly. "Good morning," PK says in response. He feels like an idiot. At least he's not really hard. "Want first shower?"

"Yeah," Carey says, and practically runs to the bathroom. It occurs to PK too late that what he was feeling was Carey's dick, because he was hard.

They didn't mention this in Auror training at all.

PK rubs a hand over his eyes and then gets up, going downstairs. He doesn't really understand Carey, even with the curse making their emotions available to each other; but this isn't an assignment for them to get to know each other. They're impersonating drug dealers, Dark wizards who are perfectly fine with feeding magic to unsuspecting Muggles. On a scale of one to catching Mortimer, understanding what's up with Carey doesn't even rate a mention.

Carey comes down and pours a massive mug of coffee, not looking at PK. PK thinks about saying something, but he's not really sure what he could possibly say. And on top of that, Carey's staring at a wall in a way that means he's determined to be stoic and slip into his Dark wizard persona without any input from PK at all. So finally PK just pours out the cold dregs of his coffee and goes upstairs to take his own shower.

When he comes down, Melissa's sitting at the kitchen table, scratching behind Lacey's ears, and Carey's nowhere to be found. "Hey," PK says.

"Hi," Melissa says. "Carey's outside, trimming the hedges. Well, that's what he says, anyway. I know he wants to go to the store with you. He mentioned you can't separate, as part of the case, and that you'll be leaving around five tonight."

She says it all in a smooth, quick voice, but her eyes are sharp as she looks at PK. PK's pretty sure she knows there's something up with them not being able to separate, but if Carey's decided not to tell her, then PK's going to follow his lead on that one.

That doesn't mean he can't try to reach out to the witness who will, hopefully, help them convict Mortimer. "Thanks," he says. The coffee pot is full again, so he grabs his mug from the counter and pours another cup. "How are you settling in?"

"Seriously?"

PK opens his eyes wide as he sits across from her, hoping he looks appealingly pitiful. "Come on, throw me a bone here. I know there's not much to settle into, but..."

Her expression softens. "It's better," she says. "Screaming nightmares aside, I mean."

"Sorry," PK says, feeling suddenly awkward.

"It's pretty comprehensively not your fault," she points out. "And anyway - I worked to get free, and managed to escape to you guys. I could've done a lot worse."

"And they won't find you," PK says. "This house is spelled all over, and on top of that, there's your room."

She nods, but she looks a little troubled.

"What's up?" PK says.

"I'm not sure I'm completely secure," she says.

"We can't cast Fidelus," PK says. "There's a chance they'll realize we've done it, and neither of us - I mean, that kind of thing can be tortured out of you."

"I know," she says. "I'm as hidden as I can be. I'm sorry, I didn't intend to ask for anything else. It's just...an adjustment, after being locked up for so long."

"I know," PK says. On impulse, he leans forward and slowly covers one of her hands with his. "We're going to keep you safe." He's not great with words, but he tries to make it obvious that he really means it. She deserves that, and PK got into being an Auror because he wanted to make things better for people.

Behind him, someone clears his throat. "Am I interrupting something?" Carey says.

He manages to make those four words sound more sarcastic than a librarian when you spill food on a roll of parchment. PK stands up quickly. "No," he says, feeling guilty for no real reason at all. "Um, there's more coffee."

"I know," Carey says. "I'm the one who spelled it to make it."

A contrast to PK's traditional hand-making. Well, as traditional as a fancy coffee machine can be, anyway. PK ignores Carey's sarcasm for the moment, going to fill up Carey's mug again.

"We need to have a game plan for tonight," Carey says, sitting down at the table. He nods at Melissa as PK sets his mug down.

"Spelling objects, get paid," PK says. "Do we need something beyond that?"

"I said I think Mortimer's going to make a move," Carey says. "At the least, he'll probably be tense, what with Melissa's escape."

"Are you worried about us hiding that we know about it?"

Carey shakes his head. "You're good at that part of undercover." While PK's deciding if that's an insult or not, Carey adds, "Mostly I think we should capitalize on it. Offer to do search parties if he lets it slip, do a bit of our fancier location magic. Nothing to actually reveal her, but -"

"Mortimer might bring us in on the secret, right," PK says. "I guess it's too much to hope that we'll get to see his magic storage artifact."

"We'll probably be too busy enchanting vases to poison wizards' water supplies," Carey says. "But we'll see."

"How often have you done this?" Melissa says, eyes on Carey.

"Spelled Dark objects? A few times."

"I meant worked undercover," Melissa says. "But the Dark objects is an interesting detail, too. My line of work encounters a lot of those."

"You've probably never broken one of my curses," Carey says.

"No, I don't suppose I would have." Melissa taps one finger on the table.

PK looks between the two of them, unsure of what to do about the thick tension in both the air and the curse bond.

"Anyway," Carey says, and there's a knock on the door.

PK springs to his feet before either of them even reacts. "I'll get it!" he says brightly. Melissa nods and gets up, taking her coffee mug with her to her room.

PK waits until the door is closed and has vanished into the wall to open the door. He's expecting a paperboy, maybe, or some sort of salesperson. What he gets is a strange man with a long beard.

"How can I help you?" PK says in French, trying for bright and clueless.

"That depends," the man says. "How are you offering to help me? I don't doubt your capability, but -"

"Come inside," PK tells Hal, stepping aside.

Hal, Polyjuiced but still unreasonably tall, comes inside. He pulls out his wand and says, "Dévoiler," tapping a wall with his wand.

"French magic?" Carey says, coming into the foyer as the interlaced spells covering the house flare up into visibility.

"When in Rome," Hal says. He switches to English. "You two are doing well so far?"

"Fine," PK says. He's itching to tell Hal about Melissa, but he also knows that could get them in deep shit back at headquarters, and Hal might've been his mentor, but -

"I saw the report you sent Martin," Hal says.

PK deflates in relief. "Oh, good."

"I won't waste my time on discussing the various ways in which he disappoints as a station commander," Hal says, "but can we at least sit down in your living room? Get the girl, too."

"I'm not exactly a girl," Melissa says from the hallways, "and the house is full of listening charms, which you should know." She goes into the living room - carrying, PK notices, Cat.

"Charming woman," Hal says, and walks past PK and Carey.

"So," he says. He doesn't look anything like himself, really - he's got dark, dark brown hair and really pale skin, with no stubble or freckles to be seen - but his eyes are still pure Hal. "What are you planning to do about this situation?"

"Wait it out," PK says. He's a little surprised that Carey doesn't even try to speak, but then, they both know that Hal was PK's mentor. Still is, in a lot of ways. "There's not much else we can do."

"That's true enough," Hal says. "You're not going to try to use her for leverage?"

"I won't be used for leverage," Melissa says. "Their original plan was to turn me over to your Auror office, but that didn't work out so well."

Hal nods. "I can't defend that," he says. His tone changes when he looks directly at her, becoming contrite. "I am sorry."

Melissa shrugs. "There's nothing to be done. But using me for leverage won't help, not with someone like Mortimer."

"He'd just tear the place apart to get her," PK says. "And we'd be back where we started. Also - the report isn't exactly comprehensive, it turns out."

"Do tell," Hal says.

Before PK can continue, though, Carey says, "Are you here on the authority of the Montreal Aurors?"

"Absolutely," Hal says. "Martin is sensitive to your situation."

"That's a no, then," Carey says.

Hal nods.

"Okay, good," PK says. "Because the lack of support -"

"I know," Hal says. "Tell me what's going on. That's why I'm here."

PK starts explaining, and when he gets to Melissa's escape, Melissa herself jumps in. Carey mostly stays quiet, but between PK and Melissa, they get a decent description up. Hal listens mostly in silence, occasionally interrupting to ask for clarification, but mostly just letting them explain. When they finish, he sighs and says, "Well. You're in deep shit, aren't you?"

"A succinct summary," Carey says.

Melissa says, "They haven't broken trust with Mortimer's group."

"The mission was to keep Mortimer and company from smuggling Death Eaters," Hal says. "They've gone a bit off course."

"It's not exactly our fault," PK says. "I don't know what Martin was thinking, but -"

"Careful," Hal says. "I wouldn't put it past him to have this place bugged."

"We would've found it," Carey says. "But it's true that it doesn't do much good to talk about it."

That's so classically Carey that PK almost rolls his eyes. "Either way," PK says, "we need to just go to Liam's place and do our best to act competent. Mortimer's desperate for people to trust, and he's more than easy when it comes to people being accepted to his inner circle. There's no reason we can't use that, leverage it and make it work for us."

"Leverage again," Hal says. "That's pretty much the opposite of what you typically have, doing an undercover assignment like this."

PK shrugs. "We have to at least try. That's what you taught me, anyway."

"True enough," Hal says. "Well, I'll admit I'm surprised, but it seems you have the situation pretty well in hand."

"You're surprised?" Carey says.

"I am," Hal says. "Is that a problem?"

Carey shrugs.

Hal eyes him for a second, then turns to PK. "I'm not going to give you any marching orders. But here." He pulls a ring out of his pocket and passes it over to PK. "It's a Portkey, de-activated for now. If you activate it, it'll take you to my safe house. The only person who knows about it is my wife - the three of you will be safe there."

"Hal," PK says, because he doesn't know what else he can say. He never expected this, not when they're undercover.

Hal takes a swig from a flask; by his grimace, it's Polyjuice. "I have to go soon," he says. "I don't want to have more than two hours of this trash in me, and anyway, it's not the least suspicious thing in the world. Think up a story to tell Mortimer's gang if he asks, and be sure you keep communicating with Martin. He doesn't give two shits about your reports, but I'm there and I'll be keeping an eye out."

"Thank you," Carey says quietly.

"You're welcome," Hal says. He stands up. "I'll let myself out," he says, and leaves.

"Well," Carey says into the silence that follows.

"Not much to say to that, is there?" Melissa says.

"We can only keep doing our best," PK says. "That's what Hal would want. That's what we should do."

"You have a lot of faith in him," Carey says.

"He's awesome," PK says. "And he knows his stuff."

Carey nods. "He's also right. We need a contact in the Aurors, and I'm pretty sure Martin has written us off. Keep that ring on you, would you?"

PK slips it on his finger. "I will."

Carey surprises him by reaching out and touching his ring. He strokes his fingers over it, brushing against PK's skin. PK does his best to lock down what he feels, but he knows from Carey's look that he's not completely successful.

He should look away, back down, do something to indicate to Carey that he's not trying to be - how he is. But he feels trapped into staring back, until Carey lets go.

"I can feel the magic in it," he says. "Mortimer will be able to, too."

"May I see it?" Melissa says, holding out her hand.

PK thinks she could probably technically use it to escape, but there wouldn't be much of a point - and anyway, it would only take her to Hal's. He passes it over.

"Thank you," she says. She holds it in one flat palm, touching her wand to it with her other hand. "Hmm."

"What?" PK says.

"It's just interesting," she says. "The composition of the ring - I think I can lay a spell on it to make it look like your average Muggleborn-cursing ring."

Which means PK will have to wear something that makes him look like he hates Muggleborns. That really shouldn't even be a problem, considering the nature of this assignment, but he still grimaces after Melissa taps the ring a couple times and passes it back to him.

"Thanks," he makes himself say, putting it back on.

Her expression indicates she understands, but all she says is, "You're welcome."

They separate after that, which PK thinks is probably for the best. He doesn't have a lot to say, and he doesn't want to distract Melissa when she's very obviously still healing. Carey's busy getting into character, and PK himself, well.

Abandonment shouldn't hurt. PK can't feel a lot of hurt coming from Carey, only a kind of grim understanding of the situation, overlaid by a lack of surprise. PK feels like an idiot in comparison, knowing he's broadcasting hurt and incapable of locking it down the way he feels he should be able to.

The problem is pretty simple. He went into the Auror offices every weekday for three and a half years. He knows the archives in and out; he has his bulletin board, his favorite coffee-making spell. He knows the archivists and people on the Magical Artifacts squad, the murder investigators and the Unspeakable liaisons. Even though he always sort of knew Montreal wasn't nearly as good as the other Auror offices in Canada, it was his office, and he loved it.

Loved it, not loves it, because he can't ignore this level of betrayal even if he wants to.

At the end of the day, though, there's really nothing to be done about it. Even if Martin doesn't want to devote resources to supporting them, they still have an assignment. If they leave it, at best they'll never see the field again, and PK's coming to realize he likes doing this. He likes not being stuck behind a desk. So to be able to keep doing that, he has to just accept this situation, and do his best to do well in it.

Or, at the very least, survive it.

Liam greets them at the door when they head to the location. It's a diner, supposedly, but as soon as PK and Carey enter, they see the façade. The actual room is a wide, steel-reinforced room with rows of benches and tables. Carey casually taps his wand against the wall, and they see the spells lighting up.

PK squints at them. They're reinforced with runes, which is definitely not unheard of, but which also makes sense, if they're constantly working on Dark objects. "This is where we make necklaces that strangle people in their sleep, eh?"

"This is where you work for Mortimer," Liam says.

That's a weird phrasing. PK does his best to look innocent-bordering-on-stupid and says, "Well, that's all we want! Pushing pills, man, that's so much less cool than...all of this." He waves a hand.

"What Jake is trying to say," Carey says, sarcasm drawing out the syllables, "is that we're more than happy to curse whatever objects you want."

"Excellent," Liam says. "The scroll over there contains the spell. These are the objects." He summons a shoebox-sized chest and opens them up.

"Toy rings?" PK says, looking at them.

"To be loaded in vending machines," Liam says. "And before you get snotty, consider what a modified Imperius can do to children's buying power with their parents, as they're entering stores."

It's kind of horrifying, PK thinks, putting even a modified version of Imperius on Muggle children. But Martin was pretty strict about needing to stay undercover, and in the long run, they're going to be helping. "Great," he says. He takes the chest from Liam and brings it over to one of the tables. The metal bench is cold when he sits down. "Can you grab the spell, Kev?"

Carey does, going and sitting next to PK. "You'll need to study it for awhile," Liam says. "If you need to use the facilities, well. Figure a way out of this room." He smirks and then Apparates.

"Something tells me if we tried to Apparate, it would end badly," PK says.

"Something tells me you're right," Carey says. "Let's get to work, though. No sense in wasting our time on pleasantries when there's work to be done."

He smiles coldly. PK has to restrain himself from shivering; Carey's really good at this. Instead, he turns away and studies the parchment.

The modified Imperius is actually a complex layer of compulsion spells that all work from Imperius's theory. Like the pills, it's hard work that PK gets easily drawn into, even knowing how screwed up all of this is. Time passes, and passes, and it's not until Liam Apparates inside and says, "It's almost dawn," that PK realizes his legs are half-numb and the metal-coated walls are slowly warming up.

Keyed to outside, then. PK tries not to think about what else this room might be used for. "Thanks," he says, standing.

"We finished twenty each," Carey says, also standing. He'd gotten up to walk around a few times; the twinges in PK's back tell him he should've done the same. PK tends to get focused on stuff, though.

"You can leave, then," Liam says. "You're keyed to be able to Apparate in and out now." He smiles narrowly. "We'll see you tomorrow at the same time, gentlemen."

When they Apparate back to the house, Melissa's nowhere to be seen. The protective spells are still up, though, and intact around the closed door of her room; PK assumes she's sleeping. He and Carey wordlessly go back into their room.

Once they've secured the area, PK says, "Wow."

"It's not as sinister as I would've expected," Carey says.

"Are you serious? Objects that compel kids, that's plenty Dark."

Carey looks perturbed, but he only says, "Yeah, you're not wrong." He sits down and pulls his boots off, then unbuttons his robes.

"He trusts us more," PK says. "I think we're going to meet the other bosses soon."

Carey looks mildly interested, along with exhausted. "Yeah?"

PK nods, getting into his pajamas. "Mortimer doesn't trust anyone, but if he keeps moving us up the food chain this quickly, he's going to have to bring the others in on it. I don't think they even know about him stealing magic, or at least, they don't know what spell he uses. But getting close to them can still be helpful. If they watch Mortimer doing it..."

"We can Polyjuice if we have to," Carey says, nodding. "Good thinking."

"Thanks," PK says. He flops down into bed. "Ugh."

"Get under the covers," Carey says, and follows his own advice.

PK grumbles, but he slides under them. The house is air conditioned enough that he'll probably be cold, otherwise. He curls up - luckily, facing away from Carey, so Carey can't see PK's surprise when he presses his back along PK's.

PK wants so much. He's keeping it on lockdown and he thinks he's mostly succeeding; he's just getting a kind of tense confusion from Carey. The curse doesn't matter, really; they haven't used it much, except maybe to cue each other once or twice when dealing with surprises. PK knows the more he thinks about it, the weirder it gets, so he tries to direct his thoughts to what he's going to do in a couple months, when they can lock Mortimer and his lackeys up, and take a vacation. Maybe he'll hang out with Carey, but he thinks he'll go back home for a bit, talk to his parents and hang out with his siblings. Most of them are still in Toronto, and it'll be awesome, he thinks, awesome and comforting, and not confusing or lonely at all.

He wakes up at noon, just as Carey's rolling out of bed. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes and smiling up at Carey. "Get enough sleep?"

"Sure," Carey says. He looks away from PK. "You?"

"Slept like a baby," PK says.

"I think Melissa made coffee," Carey says.

"Ooh, awesome." PK rolls upright and grabs a sweatshirt. "I'll be out in a minute," he calls after Carey, who's already disappearing down the hall.

Carey has a mug waiting for him when he gets out to the kitchen - and Melissa's sitting on the table, sketching something. PK takes a look at it. "Mortimer's magical object?"

"I'm pretty sure the structure is key to the spell," Melissa says. "If I can reproduce it, that's better for all of us."

"It's a noble goal," Carey says.

Melissa looks at him. "And you don't think I can do it."

"I think it'd be hard for anyone."

"Magical artifacts," Melissa reminds him, and goes back to sketching.

PK watches as she sketches, filling in lines and shadowing. Something about the stylized triangles rings a bell, but he has no idea why or what it might be. It might come to him later, but right now, he knows he's not going to get any answers.

They sip their coffee in silence. A few times, PK gets a kind of troubled thinking coming through the curse, and he glances at Carey. Carey's looking at him each time. When PK blinks at him, he scowls and looks away.

When they finish their coffee, PK says, "Carey, want to go to the store? We're out of eggs."

"Eat something first," Carey says.

PK frowns. "I'm fine," he says in a tone he knows his mother would call whining.

"You need to eat," Carey says.

"He's right," Melissa says. "Also, if you make some toast, can I have some?"

PK scowls at them. Melissa smiles back, looking unrepentant, along with surprisingly composed, for someone who was kept in a cage for a year.

"Oh, fine," PK says. He gets up. "You want anything?" he asks Carey.

"Maybe some fruit," Carey says. "A sandwich. You know."

"You're an asshole," PK says, but he gets busy making brunch for them.

They all eat together, and it feels weirdly domestic for the time it takes Melissa to finish sketching. Then she says, "I'm going to try some spells on this. I'll be in my room if you need me," and leaves quickly.

PK's a little confused. He figured things were going well. "What was that about?"

Carey shrugs. "She's traumatized. It happens."

His easy acceptance of it is weird. But then, PK reminds himself, Carey knows about these kinds of things. "Sure," PK says. "Okay. Just..."

"You're doing fine," Carey says quietly. He takes a bite of his sandwich, keeping his eyes on the table. "If you were doing something wrong with her, I'd tell you. In the field you get a lot of this. But you really are doing fine, okay?"

He says it kind of defensively, like having this conversation is everything he wishes he could be not doing. PK guesses that makes sense. "Okay. Thanks," he says slowly, turning everything over in his head.

Carey, to PK's shock, reaches out and pats PK's shoulder. Then he takes his now-empty plate to the sink. "Hurry up," Carey says. His back is to PK, so PK's surprised by the affection he can feel from Carey, deep and pretty amazingly solid. "I can't go to the store without you, and we need eggs, remember?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," PK says. He jams his feet into shoes and pats his pocket to make sure he has his wand, before grabbing his coat. He actually beats Carey out of the door, a fact he feels pretty smug about it.

Being in a Muggle neighborhood means they have to drive to the store, but PK doesn't mind. He hops into the driver's seat before Carey has a chance to protest; not, he thinks as Carey slumps his way into the passenger's seat, that he thinks Carey would. He taps the car with his wand to start it and drives them to the store in silence, not even bothering to turn on the radio.

"So," Carey says as they walk across the parking lot. He's switched to French, and it occurs to PK that they might be being watched. "Eggs. What else?"

"Um," PK says. "Bread, some kind of meat, maybe? And..." He frowns.

Carey rolls his eyes. "I'll get it," he says, grabbing a basket as they enter the store.

PK's more than happy to follow Carey, watching as Carey tosses stuff into the basket. They finish quickly enough that the car's still pretty warm when they get back to it.

"This is great," PK says as they check the backseats and climb into the car. He starts the car again. "I should have you grocery shop for me all the time."

Carey glances at him sharply, but PK just pulls out of their parking spot. It's not like he said anything that could get them caught, and it's a good point.

"I have better things to do than shop for you," Carey says finally.

PK grins. "Nah," he says. "I don't think you do, Mr. No-Life."

"Mr. No-Life? That's the best you can do?"

"Stings, eh? The truth usually does."

"Shut the fuck up," Carey says. But when PK glances at him, he's smiling.

They work for Mortimer again that night, spelling magical objects in the creepy metal room. PK thought being undercover would be more exciting than this, really. They're basically assembly line workers, and while the work is technical and specialized, layering the spells is really repetitive and boring. Normally PK would ask Carey's opinion about hockey or something, but he's pretty sure that doesn't really fit with their characters, and absolutely sure Carey would glare at him if he tried. So instead he casts spells and tries not to think about Melissa, and Mortimer's magic-stealing, and their office abandoning them to this job while simultaneously threatening to fire them if they don't do it well enough.

Yeah, he's definitely not thinking about that at all.

When the sun comes up, Liam lets them go again. They do exactly what they did the morning before, right down to PK telling himself he's not allowed to wrap himself around Carey no matter how much he wants to.

He wakes up in the middle of the day, because Carey's tossing and turning, leg kicking PK persistently. "Carey?" PK says, trying to clear the sleep from his mind.

Carey doesn't say anything, but he does roll onto his back. PK blinks and grabs his wand, whispering, "Lumos."

Carey's mouth is a hard line, his hands balled into fists on top of the covers. As PK watches, he shudders, his whole body shaking.

Shit. PK leans down and cups his shoulder, shaking gently. "Carey. Carey, wake up."

Carey doesn't react, but a second later, before PK even pulls his hand away, he says, "No. No, no," shaking his head, expression contorting.

Fuck it. "Carey," PK says loudly, shaking Carey hard. "Carey, wake up."

Carey flails and knocks PK's hand away. His fist comes up, and PK dodges it at the last minute, but his wand falls to the bed. A minute later, Carey's thrashing has covered his wand with a sheet, so the light is incredibly dim. And Carey's still swinging, blind and asleep.

"Carey!" PK says again. On impulse, he shoves a wake up! through the curse, clutching Carey's shoulders as he does it.

Carey's eyes open. He looks afraid and wild with it, and his mouth is working open and shut, soundlessly, as he stares at PK.

PK doesn't know what to say. Finally he settles on, "Hey, buddy. You were having a nightmare. You okay?"

Carey doesn't answer. He blinks once, then again, and then leans up and grabs the back of PK's head. The light from PK's wand, still trapped in the sheets, is dim, but bright enough for PK to make out Carey's complete lack of an expression.

Then Carey's kissing him.

PK reacts instantly, because the pull of Carey kissing him, the feeling of it in the curse, is something that he just doesn't have it in him to resist. But then reality comes crashing back in and he says, "Wait, no, stop," pulling away.

Carey freezes, watching him.

"It's okay," PK manages to say, reaching out and stroking Carey's cheek. He feels like he's going to fly into pieces and wants to smack himself for ending the kiss, because the urge to reach out and make Carey feel better, to help him and kiss him and fucking keep him, is almost more than he can bear. But Carey's - PK swallows. Carey's upset, and he's confused, and that's why he kissed PK. PK's not going to take advantage of that.

After a long, tense moment, Carey nods. "Thanks," he says in a raspy voice, then rolls over, away from PK.

Good, PK tells himself. He grabs his wand, whispering, "Nox."

They'll deal with what just happened when they've had some sleep, he tells himself. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down, making his breathing steady and even.

He falls asleep after that, too exhausted to do anything else. He dreams about Carey holding him, fingers digging into his shoulders, kissing him like he's never wanted to do anything else, and like he'll never let PK go.

Carey's gone when PK wakes up in the early afternoon. That's not exactly a surprise; what is a surprise is Carey's note, made of glowing blue letters and hanging in the air. "We have the day off."

"Awesome," PK tells the far wall. He could complain about Carey, but then, he's not far enough away that they're collapsing in pain. So, he thinks, it could be worse.

He hops out of bed, showers, and goes downstairs. Melissa's in the living room, along with -

PK blinks. "Is that liquid metal?"

"Mercury," she says. "Oh, calm down," she adds when PK takes a step back. "I've got it under five separate spells. It's not dangerous."

She's moving her wand over it in complex patterns, and it's sort of writhing under her wand, floating in midair. It's far from the strangest thing PK's ever seen, but what makes it as strange as it is is mostly Melissa's expression. She looks calm, like she didn't spend half of yesterday locked in her room. PK's not sure how he feels about that.

"Okay," PK finally says. "I'm gonna go eat breakfast."

"Carey's in the study," she calls after him.

"Carey is his own man," he calls back, and grabs the hard-won eggs from the refrigerator. He eats breakfast alone, without bothering to let Carey know he's up. Either Carey will figure it out from the curse or not, and PK...PK feels weird about it.

And then, of course, he feels weird for feeling weird about it. Things happen when on an undercover assignment, and Carey's been on a lot of them. It stands to reason that he'd have some bad experiences. PK would ask him about them, but he knows Carey won't want to talk about it; so really there's nothing to be done but to just keep his head up and hope things are normal whenever he sees Carey again.

He's finished his eggs and has done the dishes by the time Carey comes into the kitchen. "Melissa's busy making the house a biohazard," he says.

"She says it's protected."

"Do you buy it?" Carey grabs an apple from the bowl on the table, biting into it.

Carey's hot; that's not news. He looks away. "Yeah," PK says. "I mean, she's working on replicating that Mortimer thing, which we really need. So."

Carey nods. "Makes sense."

PK offers him a smile. "How are -"

"Don't," Carey says sharply.

PK blinks, but he nods quickly. "Yeah, totally. Okay. Anyway, we should..."

"Rest," Carey says when PK doesn't provide him with anything.

"Sorry?"

"Rest," Carey says. "We need it."

"I'm rested."

"Sure," Carey says. "Only, it's about to get a lot harder. So you need to rest."

He looks weirdly determined. PK has a pretty strong feeling there's no point in fighting him, so he says, "Sure, okay," and wanders out into the living room, deliberately nonchalant.

He hangs out for the rest of the day, not doing much of anything - mostly because everything he can think of to do would bring him in contact with Carey in some way. He tells himself he's giving Carey space, and he is, mostly. It's possible he's also a little worried about how he feels, but there's nothing he can really do about that, so he does his best not to keep thinking about it.

Melissa goes to bed early, not saying much to either of them. PK has vague ideas of getting her some kind of therapy - something, he can't help but think, that would be easier with the support of the Montreal Aurors office. But maybe it can still be done, with careful planning. He'll have to talk to Carey about it sometime.

He doesn't do it that night, though. He stays up until 3 and then goes to bed, already tired despite the fact that he woke up around noon. He's drowsing when Carey joins him, stripped down to his boxers and radiating heat like he always does. Summers in Montreal aren't as warm as they could be, PK knows, but they're warm enough that PK just had a sheet up over his shoulders. Now, he has to resist the urge to curl into Carey.

"You could use a blanket," Carey mutters, sounding sullen.

"I know," PK whispers back.

He doesn't say anything else. Carey, apparently, gets the point; he falls silent, and soon PK's drifting off to sleep again.

Nothing dramatic happens in the morning. PK's kind of hoping for it - it would be nice to be able to break through this uneasy silence they have going, if nothing else. But nothing happens at all, and eventually PK has to admit to himself that maybe nothing is going to happen. Maybe the kissing was just a blip on the radar - a traumatized blip, in Carey's case, which makes PK feel like an awful person. He eats his breakfast while resolving to let it go, not to make a thing of it. Carey deserves that much. PK cares about him; PK's not going to make this painful.

When they go to Liam's later that night, PK realizes he's almost gotten used to this whole incredibly depressing room thing. He sits next to Carey on the metal bench, pulls out his bag of assorted objects, and begins weaving the appropriate spells.

An hour passes. PK breaks the silence, mostly because he's a little worried he's going crazy, by saying, "More lucrative than pushing pills, eh?"

"Appropriate for wizards of our stature," Carey says.

PK's not sure what that means, unless Carey means "not old and white and British", which is a fair point. PK says, "Yep," and they go back to casting spells.

Then, maybe two hours in, Carey holds up his wand and says, "Stop."

PK does, immediately. It's not until his hands have frozen that he realizes Carey didn't actually say anything; it was just an overwhelming order and impulse that he got through the curse bond. That's great, PK thinks, doing his best not to panic.

Carey raises his wand a little more, then mouths a spell. A barely-there sound from beyond the door amplifies -

"Don't act like it. They act like strangers. How can we be sure?" a stranger is saying.

"They're good," Liam growls. "You wanna just throw that away on a hunch?"

"Hunches can save lives," the stranger says.

PK realizes their voices are getting closer as PK grabs him, both their wands clattering to the metal floor. Carey kisses him, tugging his lip with his teeth and shoving a hand into the back of his pants to cup his ass.

PK will probably be embarrassed about his squeak later, but this is Carey kissing him; who can blame him for being surprised? He waves his hands helplessly, then grabs Carey's arms. Carey's kissing and kissing him, and PK can't help but respond; it feels so good, and also there's the small matter of desperation coming from his and Carey's curse. So PK kisses back, and even as Liam comes into the room, he's pulling Carey more firmly against him as they both get hard.

"Excuse me," Liam says. His voice is silky, almost threatening. PK wonders, as they pull apart, if this isn't too on the nose. But then, that's the kind of thing he has Carey for. "I didn't realize we'd be...interrupting anything."

PK realizes Carey's game as Carey starts talking. "Well, with you two doubting us, how could I not?" Carey says. "I'm not sure what else we could do to convince you, unless -" His hands go to his robes.

"No need," Liam says, waving a hand. "I'm to take you to meet with Mortimer."

"Oh, we met him," PK says. Blinking stupidly isn't that hard right now; he feels stupid, after having Carey's hand on his ass. It's almost like he can still feel it.

"Charming," Liam says. "Well, he wants to see you again."

"Our spell work was that good, huh?"

Carey sounds smug. PK tries not to look ridiculous over it, then remembers what they're faking and lets himself look as dumb as he wants.

"Awesome," he finally says when he realizes everyone's carefully not looking at him. "Lead the way."

"Not right now," Liam says. "It's almost two. Go home; someone will be at your house at ten tomorrow night."

"We're not working that hard," Carey points out.

"Your days selling drugs to unsuspecting Muggles might have misled you on this point, but I assure you, most of Mortimer's more...trusted apprentices do not work 8-hour nights every night."

"So we've made it to the big time, is what you're saying."

Liam gives Carey a cold, hard stare. "I'm saying go home. Someone will collect you at ten tomorrow."

"Yes, your worshipfulness," Carey says.

"Um," PK says. He nods, then scurries after Carey, who's already leaving with shoulders squared.

They go next door. Carey doesn't say anything, so PK doesn't say anything either. They make it all the way to the bedroom before PK pins down what's coming through the bond: that's smugness, pure and simple.

"So," PK says.

Carey throws up the usual protective spells, then frowns and adds one PK hasn't heard before, in a language he's pretty sure is Greek. "Well," he says.

PK watches his lips curl: first a smirk, then a smile, then an all-out beaming grin. "So that's what we were waiting for?" he guesses.

"That's what we were waiting for," Carey says. "Fuck, yes." He pumps his fist, then actually stomps his foot, staring at PK like he can't contain how he feels.

PK's surprised by both the sudden display of emotion and the Muggle cursing. Carey's triumph is shining through the curse, bright and brittle. PK picks up, without needing to be told, the reason it's so unstable: this is the beginning of their real undercover work, the part that might fall apart like a stack of cards.

He's about to tell Carey as much when the door bursts open with a blaze of light. PK jumps and pulls out his wand, mouth open to hex whoever it is - but then he relaxes. It's only Melissa.

She puts away her wand as quickly as she appeared in the doorway. "I'm sorry," she says stiffly. "I heard noises and thought -"

"It's fine," Carey says.

"No," she says. "Everything's fine? I'll go, then."

She leaves before PK can so much as get a word in edgewise. PK looks over at Carey, but the moment - whatever it was - is broken.

"So," PK says.

Carey's expression is closed off. "We should get ready for bed. Long day tomorrow. We need to prepare, and we should send a report in too."

They won't answer, but PK knows that Carey knows that. "Sure," he says. "I'll take the bathroom."

He does his best to fall asleep once they're both in bed, but it's hard. Carey's so tense, and his mind - from what PK can get through the curse, which is finally feeling like an actual curse - is buzzing. PK tries to lie still and be quiet and go to sleep, his mother's admonitions creeping up on him even now, but with Carey as tense as he is, it's just not working.

"Carey," he finally whispers, poking Carey with his foot.

"What?"

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

PK sighs. "You know."

"I don't," Carey says.

He's - daring PK, PK realizes. He's teasing. It's fitting, in a ridiculous way, that Carey would flirt after this kind of triumph on their undercover assignment. PK's dick doesn't care about how fitting and also nonsexual it is, though.

To cover up how suddenly interested he is, PK rolls over onto his side, away from Carey. Carey doesn't seem to notice; the mental buzz continues. It's now, kind of weirdly, turning PK on, so he says, "Long day tomorrow, eh?"

"I know," Carey says. "You want me to go to sleep."

"I mean, it's fine," PK says. "Just, you know."

He feels amusement from Carey. "Just, you know?"

"Pretty much," PK says. He knows perfectly well how ridiculous this is, this feeling under his skin. He hopes Carey's not picking up on it, though he really wouldn't lay any money on it. He holds his breath briefly, then lets it out, closing his eyes again.

He's so shocked he almost jumps when Carey presses up against his back. "Sorry, Subban," Carey says in his ear, "but you wanted me to calm down."

He kind of nuzzles PK's neck, and oh God. This is a Carey he was really not prepared to deal with. But pressed against PK's back, Carey's already calming down. PK can't help but wonder why Carey shies away from touch so much if it calms him down like this. He doesn't voice the question, though, and in just a few minutes, he can feel Carey fall asleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, it's to a cool, empty bed. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows, and PK remembers suddenly that they forgot to close the curtains.

Someone was probably watching. He thinks about it for a second, then shrugs. Last night, he tells himself, was proof that Carey lives for undercover work. PK needs to take a step back and stop being so himself. Right now he's Jake, not PK. And Jake has a job to do.

Jake is already falling away when he gets downstairs, though. Melissa and Carey are sitting at the kitchen table, and Melissa's saying, "- have their own magic, I know. But what's to say wizards can't harness it?"

"Wizards can't use goblin magic, or house elf magic," Carey says.

"But we can interact with both, especially house elf magic," Melissa says. "And they were human once."

"Hi, guys." PK pours himself a cup of coffee, then turns to the kitchen table. "What's up?"

Melissa opens her mouth to answer, but Carey says sharply, "What do you think?"

For a split second, PK thinks it's a hostile challenge. Then he realizes what Carey's asking. Different kind of magic, human once - "Vampire magic," he says, blinking. "Melissa thinks Mortimer was using vampire magic."

"I told you," Carey says to Melissa, sounding smug.

"Okay, fine, it's very impressive," Melissa says. "You, I mean," she adds to PK. "But what do you think about the theory?"

PK brings his coffee over to the kitchen table and sits down. "If it doesn't work, you just said some words," PK says. "You studied vampire magic?"

"They can enchant objects just like we can," Melissa says. "And a wizard's spell can break a vampire's - or vice versa."

"Then try it," PK says. "Worst that happens is it doesn't work, right?"

"Probably," Melissa says. "Or I blow the house sky high."

PK remembers his lessons on non-human magic, and knows the likelihood is infinitesimal. So he feels free to say, "Well, then we won't care."

Melissa laughs, short and harsh. "Good point," she says. She draws her wand and points it at the object on the table, a shimmering, dark red circle of metal, made of intertwining threads. "Recoltar."

Nothing happens.

"Blood," PK says.

They both look at him. He shrugs. "Well, if it was just saying a word, Muggles would be wizards. Right?"

"Right," Melissa says.

Carey looks suddenly uneasy. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

"It's a great idea," PK says. "It'll work. Hopefully."

"And if it doesn't, we tried," Melissa says. She aims her wand at her own left hand, and a red stripe blooms along her palm. Setting her wand down, she smears it on the circlet, then says again, commandingly, "Recoltar."

At first, nothing happens again, and PK's ready to give up. But then Melissa hisses, and sparks fly from the metal as it begins to glow.

"Well," Carey says, staring at it. He looks pale.

"Hold your palm out," Melissa says. "Just do it," she adds, snapping, when Carey stares at her.

He wordlessly holds his palm out. She twitches her fingers, and the metal circlet rises until it's hovering a millimetre below Carey's palm. As they watch, the glow encircles Carey's hand, and then -

"Fuck, fuck, stop," Carey says, as pale brown silt starts flowing from him. "Melissa -"

"Desparti," Melissa says quickly. The silt disappears, and the circlet tumbles to the table, gone dark again.

But when PK points his wand at it, he can feel the power. Not much, but it's now a magical object, with some of Carey's power in it. "Oh my God," he says.

Carey, for his part, looks shaken. "It's not the shape Mortimer's was in."

"Packaging doesn't always matter," Melissa says. She sounds as scared at Carey looks.

"Well," PK says. "This is a good starting point. Right?"

But his words fall flat. They finish their coffee in their loose circle at the table, carefully not looking at the metal circlet in its center.

Chapter 4

Carey's the first to leave, locking himself in the study to write a report for Martin - or Hal, PK guesses. PK busies himself cleaning up, as much to do anything as anything else, before finally giving in and going into the study.

"How's it going?" he says, sitting down at the desk.

Carey glances up at him. "Not good."

PK considers, for a second, if he really wants to try to force Carey to talk about it. But he thinks he probably doesn't have much of a choice, since they're partners and he needs to know, so he says, "Yeah?"

"I don't know how to explain it." Carey makes a face, like admitting it pains him. "I've been in on complicated operations before, things that went south quickly, dangerous things." PK knows, since he's read Carey's file, but he doesn't say anything. "I've never done anything like this."

"The vampires are a little extreme," PK says.

"I've worked on cases with vampires," Carey says. "Back in BC. But this - I've never worked on anything like this."

PK does his best to sift through what Carey's not saying. The conclusion he arrives at is sort of worrying: Carey's scared.

"Hey," he says, awkwardly sitting down. "We'll figure it out."

Carey blinks at him. "Seriously?"

"We will. You're the best at this, and I'm -"

"The best at figuring stuff out."

PK smiles. "Sure, I guess."

Carey taps a finger on the desk, shifting his gaze to the far wall. "I just don't understand how Mortimer's doing it," he says finally. "Vampire magic, fine, he made a breakthrough there. But what does this have to do with smuggling Dark wizards? What kind of power grab is he trying to make? How does he release the power, and what does he do with it?"

"Those are all really good questions," PK says. "And we'll figure them out. Just put what we know in the report."

Carey frowns a little, then says, "I'm not going to put in replicating the vampire magic."

PK blinks. "Why?"

"I'm comfortable with Hal knowing. But the office..."

PK doesn't get it. "The Aurors should know. Even if they're not supporting us, we still have responsibilities."

"I don't want to be pulled on this assignment," Carey says. "And I just..." He reaches out and grabs PK's upper arm. "Look. Can you trust me on this? You know I'm not lying, you should be able to feel it. Just trust me."

PK doesn't know why Carey's asking him to, when he's implying that he wants PK not to trust the Aurors - his friends, coworkers, and the entire organization he trusts his life to. But he also knows that Carey has his reasons, and PK trusts Carey. He has for awhile now.

"Okay," he says finally. He's not going to insist the Aurors are trustworthy, just also negligent. They can have that fight later. Leaving out the vampire magic doesn't, right now, negatively affect what they're doing enough for PK to have a problem with it. "Leave it out."

Relief courses through the curse. "Good," Carey says, which is as close to 'thanks' as he's going to get right now.

"No problem," PK says. "I'm going to write my part."

"Paper's over there," Carey says, pointing at the other desk.

"Thanks," PK says, and retrieves it.

He writes his section of the report quickly. Writing reports was his forte before this assignment, and he and Carey are just being honest, minute the last couple hours. So there's no real reason he can't just tell the truth, make it concise, and then hope for the best from the Aurors headquarters.

That almost quashes the Carey-like cynicism he feels as he seals his report, with both adhesive and magic.

"What do you think about tonight?" he says when Carey finishes writing.

"You just want me to act like an idiot again," Carey says.

That's as close as they're going to come to acknowledgement of what happened, PK's pretty sure. "Maybe," he says, smiling. Then he adds, more seriously, "But I mean - we have a lot to do. And there's Melissa."

Carey hears the unspoken question and says, "I think we can trust her. Crazy though that is."

PK nods. "But I mean, she's volatile. You said so yourself."

"I know," Carey says. "But being volatile doesn't mean she's untrustworthy. I wouldn't trust her with pulling off a big operation, but she's doing her own research. It's our job to keep her safe."

That's fair enough, from where PK's sitting. "Okay." He takes Carey's now-sealed report and puts it in the tray along with his. "So," he says. "We should plan for tonight."

Carey leans back in his chair. "No real way to," he says. "Liam didn't let us know what to expect on purpose."

PK knows that, but - "We ought to be able to do something."

"We have our covers, we've been staying at home preparing to do more evil," Carey says. "That's pretty much it, really."

PK can't help but think that working undercover is both more boring and more exciting than he expected. "And if someone tries to kill us?"

Carey's smile is pretty creepy when he says, "We try to kill them back."

"Okay," PK says. "Well, I'm going to go make dinner."

"Sure," Carey says. He stands up. "I'll help."

PK blinks at him. "Really?"

"They can see into our windows. It's very domestic."

Now Carey's smirking, and PK is really, really glad Carey can't see all the blood rushing to his face. Or his dick. "Right," PK says. "Let's go, then."

They end up making pasta - the Wizarding way, of course, because doing it the Muggle way would be a sure sign they're imposters. Carey spells the water to boil and the pasta to cook, and PK spells the vegetables to chop, and they both make the sauce. It's all assembling when they go out into the living room. Unsurprisingly, it's empty.

"I wish we could get her counseling," PK says. He picks up a book. "I just...I think she needs it."

"Probably," Carey says. "You're awfully attentive to her, though, so who knows?"

PK blinks at him. "What?"

Carey raises his eyebrows. "Nothing. You just really care about her being all nice and happy, apparently."

"She's an innocent witch who was kept prisoner for a year. How should I feel about her?"

Carey holds up his hand. "You're doing the right thing." His tone is completely different - less sarcastic, PK thinks. "Never mind."

Sometimes PK wishes Carey was less of a good liar, or less complicated, or at least more honest. Even if then he wouldn't be Carey. "Okay," PK says. He focuses on his reading.

The time for them to leave comes way, way too soon. PK feels like he blinks and then someone's knocking on the front door.

Carey opens it with his robes billowing intimidatingly. Liam smiles at them. It's not a very nice smile. "Come with me," he says, and holds out a small candelabra.

That's dramatic, PK thinks, but he reaches out with Carey and takes it. Liam snaps his fingers, and then they're whirling through the Portkey with its usual nauseating effect.

They stop in the middle of a ballroom, which PK takes note of as he's stumbling around to recover. He does it quickly - he hasn't traveled by Portkey often, being from Toronto, but it's not new to him - and says, "Well, this is fancy."

It both is and isn't. The chandelier is covered in cobwebs, and the walls are full of faded tapestries. PK has no idea where they might be, or if they can Apparate away. He's pretty certain they're not going to risk it, though.

"That's one word for it," Carey says. PK turns to look at him. His hair is a little messed up, but his expression is bored. "Can we move this charade forward, please?"

"Of course," Liam says.

Mortimer materializes directly in front of them.

PK almost doesn't gasp, then remembers his role and says loudly, "Merlin's ears!"

"Very impressive," Carey says. "What did you call us here for?"

"Now, now." Mortimer's face might as well be granite, for all the expression he's demonstrating. "I don't think that's any way to speak to your employer."

"Maybe not," Carey says, "but if you were hiring us for pretty manners, you wouldn't be hiring us."

"Your partner's pretty enough."

"Kev thinks so," PK says. "Anyway, what's all this about?"

Mortimer glances over at him, then looks away dismissively. Good: let Carey keep his attention. One of them should be making sure they're not being surrounded, or worse.

"This is about Gillian, and Hinton, and McKinnon, and Laraby," Mortimer says.

Dark wizards, none of them particularly impressive. "You're smuggling more wizards," Carey says.

"Something like that," Mortimer says. "Tell me, what do you know of răsplată?"

"Nothing," PK says.

"I figure you'll enjoy explaining it, though," Carey adds.

"Indeed," Mortimer says. "Răsplată is a certain concept of revenge. The Children of the Night embrace it, and hope to enact it. Of course, like most apocalyptic or religious imaginings, it stays a fantasy."

"You mean vampires," PK says.

"The term seems rude, but yes." Mortimer reaches into the neckline of his robes and pulls out a twisted metal pendant that PK recognizes from Melissa's drawings. "This is răsplată."

"I'm sure this is redundant, but you're a wizard," Carey says.

"Naturally," Mortimer says. "I never said it was their răsplată."

PK's starting to suspect Mortimer is just a little nuts. But he's also in charge of quite a few terrifying wizards, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"And what does this have to do with us?" Carey says.

Mortimer takes the pendant off. "I found this," he says. "The Dark wizards, as you so accurately identified them, have died. At first, the amulet only took a small amount of magic. Now, it takes magic and a wizard's life force, if I will it." He lets go of the amulet and it hovers in the air, then floats over to Carey.

PK very deliberately does not panic.

"I want you to work out what makes it tick," Mortimer says. "Colloquially speaking. I want to know how to make another. It's imbued with four wizards' power, yet only allows me a bit at a time. It seems to have its own mind. I want to control it, and I want more like it." His jaw is set, and his eyes might as well be burning. "I will have my revenge, gentlemen. Do you understand?"

"Of course," Carey says. He reaches out, seemingly without any fear, and grabs the pendant.

PK has a second's warning over the curse before Carey tosses the pendant to him. PK catches it, feeling the power like a physical shock through his body. "Very nice," he says, inspecting it showily.

"You have a week," Mortimer says. "If you don't give me results, I will be...displeased."

He Apparates.

"Well," PK says. He turns to Liam. "Do we need the Portkey?"

"Do you not have questions?" Liam says.

"Not really." PK shrugs. "We're good with magical artifacts. Portkey, please?"

"The artifact is keyed to him," Liam says. "Tampering with it or stealing it -"

"We're aware of how artifacts work," Carey says. "But if you don't give us the Portkey, we'll probably try to Apparate. And since we're not Mortimer, I suspect it'll be messy."

"Oh, fine," Liam snarls. He pulls the candelabra out and hands it to PK. Carey grabs on immediately, Liam snaps his fingers, and three whirling seconds later, they're standing outside their house, without Liam.

Carey hefts the candelabra. "Let's go inside," he says.

Once they're safely inside, with protection spells cast, Carey says, "I wasn't expecting that."

"That's comforting," PK says. He means it a little sarcastically, but only a little. "So...what do we do?"

"Figure out his amulet," Carey says. "Then not tell him, obviously."

But PK's thinking, and he's pretty sure he has a better idea. "Hey," he says. "We're experts at magical artifacts, right?"

"As our cover, or really?"

"Either."

"Yes."

PK lifts the candelabra. "Then maybe they shouldn't have left this with us. How do you feel about figuring out where Mortimer's base is?"

Carey's entire face lights up. "Yes," he says. "Merlin's balls, yes." He grabs the candelabra and then laughs, saying, "Tabarnak. Yes."

PK laughs at the Muggle cursing, then says, "Let's get to work."

Their humor fades pretty quickly. The magic on the Portkey is complex enough that PK knows they're not going to crack it before dawn. That means that if Mortimer rotates his base nightly, then they've lost - but then, PK thinks, Mortimer is vain, and that was, it seemed, a nice mansion. So maybe not.

Melissa comes into the kitchen at five AM. PK's following the tangle of charms to the core of the spell, and just as she says, "I see you had a busy night," Arithmancy-coded coordinates appear on the piece of paper he's been using.

"I've got it," he says.

Carey's head jerks up and he says, "Yes."

"You've got what?" Melissa says.

"A key," PK says. "We know where Mortimer is now."

"Probably," Carey adds.

Melissa's expression is unreadable when she says, "Well, that's good."

"It is." PK pauses, looking at her. Then he adds, doing his best to be gentle, "We'll bring him in for justice."

"I don't doubt that," she says with a narrow smile. "You'll do it if you can."

"We also have this," Carey says with deliberate casualness, and moves the pendant from its position hovering under the table.

She recoils. "How did you -"

"Hey, it's okay." PK holds up his hand. "He gave it to us. This is our job, now, it's what he wants us to do for the next week."

"But instead you're going to hunt him down."

"That's our job," Carey says, echoing PK.

Melissa is very, very pale. "Then I wish you luck, and may God have mercy on you," she says, and turns on her heel, leaving.

"We should go to bed," PK says when Carey doesn't break the silence. "I think she was hungry, and we need sleep."

"Should we pay Mortimer a visit tomorrow night?"

PK grins. "You read my mind."

"Good," Carey says. "Let's go to bed, then."

PK can't help what he thinks, any more than he can help broadcasting it. Carey stiffens, shoulders going still. PK winces and says, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Carey says. His voice is very steady. "Come on. We need sleep."

Carey stays on his side of the bed that night. PK gets why.

When they get down to the kitchen in the morning, an array of objects are lying on the kitchen table. There's the candelabra, two strips of knotted twine, two smooth gray pebbles, two ballpoint pens, and two handkerchiefs.

PK's not surprised when he looks beyond the table and sees Melissa standing there. She's pale, but she looks resolute.

"I'm guessing these are for us," PK says.

"Not that we need them," Carey says.

"Of course you don't," Melissa says. "But only an idiot would deny protection and concealment charms, and that's what I'm giving you."

PK blinks at her. She sticks her jaw out and adds, "I have a vested interest in you both coming back safe, remember."

"We'll take them," Carey says. "But we're eating breakfast, first."

He says it with a kind of humor that Melissa gets, if her smile is any indication. She backs off and lets them make breakfast - well, lunch; they're eating sandwiches. When they're done, though, she says, "The candelabra will take you to and from Mortimer's with a tap of your wand. The handkerchiefs are for concealment; you can put them in your pockets. Wear the twine around your wrists for deflection of hexes - not perfect, obviously, but better than nothing. The pens will warm up if magic is being worked nearby."

"The stones?" Carey says, pocketing the handkerchief and the pen. It makes sense to carry them around before they leave, PK guesses, so he takes his too.

"The stones will kill you if you swallow them." Melissa looks calm. "They'll also kill anyone else who swallows them. Use them wisely."

PK thinks about her imprisonment, having her magic stolen. He doesn't say anything, just pockets one of the stones.

Carey takes it in stride, too, saying, "Thanks."

She nods. "I'll leave you to it," she says, and leaves.

"Think she's getting ready for our failure?" Carey says.

"Oh, for sure," PK says.

He can feel a frisson of excitement. It's kind of how he felt yesterday, only more intense - he wants to do this, he realizes. He wants to go into danger and investigate and, hopefully, get closer to figuring out a solution for this whole mess.

When he looks at Carey, Carey's smiling at him. "What?" PK says.

"Nothing," Carey says, but he's still smiling. "You're really getting into the job, huh."

"Well, it's...maybe," PK says. "Anyway, let's go over the case one more time. Just to be sure."

They basically waste the rest of the day, neither of them willing to acknowledge the nervousness they're sharing in the curse. When night falls, Carey finds PK in their bedroom and holds up the candelabra. "Ready?"

"Yep," PK says. He fastens his cloak on, and he and Carey cast cloaking spells on each other. Then PK reaches out and grabs the candelabra, Carey taps it with his wand...

And they're standing outside a massive mansion, set on a hill overlooking a whole lot of nothing. No trees, no water; just waving grass, as far as PK can see.

He's not going to analyze where they are. That's pointless and not what they're there for at all. Instead, he nods at Carey, and they creep towards the mansion together, with wands out.

They see people a few times, warned of it by the warming of the pens. The wizards - they're all men - are easy to dodge, though. They break into the mansion by the simple act of slicing a magical hole in the wards and slipping open a window, and as they tumble soundlessly to the floor of a musty study, PK gives thanks for the fact that Mortimer, apparently, has only the weakest of wards.

The mansion is full of narrow, twisting hallways and rooms filled with sheet-covered furniture. They search methodically, covering the first floor and then the second, communicating mostly through the curse. When they get to the third floor, though, they're faced with a wide hallway and light flowing from the room at the very end.

PK glances at Carey, who nods at him. Together, they creep down the hallway, stopping twice and flattening themselves against the wall when a lackey walks past them.

PK mostly doesn't look at the light at the end of the hallway, wanting to preserve his night vision; that means, though, that when he and Carey slowly peek into the room, the light is almost blinding.

Mortimer is sitting with his back to them, talking to the fire, which is glowing green: Floo, then. "I want to know that our agreement stands. I have too many balls in the air to worry about a sudden weakening in your resolve."

"As ever, I stand to profit from your harvest," a reedy voice says. "I support you, as do many in my department. You won't encounter any substantial resistance as long as I'm in charge."

PK's knees almost give out in shock; it's only Carey's steely hand on his arm that keeps him from falling over. He knows that voice, has in fact heard it more days than not, for four years. It's Martin.

A wave of feeling roars through PK, from both him and Carey. But Carey looks absolutely controlled when he pulls out the candelabra. PK takes it, and a moment later they're standing in their bedroom again.

"Not a word," Carey says, casting protective spells. PK takes his cloak off and then sits down heavily on the bed. Martin is - PK thought - PK's not sure what he thought, only he didn't expect betrayal this huge. He remembers Carey trying to talk about it, and PK's own faith, and feels sick to his stomach.

"PK. Merlin's - fuck, PK." Carey collapses on the bed next to him. At least, PK thinks hollowly, Carey also looks surprised, at least a little.

"I knew something was up," Carey says. "I didn't expect this."

"We have to go," PK says. "Don't we? We can't stay undercover with this happening."

"We need to blow our cover," Carey says.

"On purpose?"

Carey nods. "And then, hopefully, not get killed."

"What about Melissa?"

"I have a safe house in Montreal proper. No one knows about it, not even Martin." Carey spits the name out, clenching his hands into fists. PK himself is shaking a little; he's glad Carey hasn't pointed it out. "We'll go back to our normal beat, and we'll figure out a way to put the bastard in L'extrémité. Permanently."

L'extrémité, the Quebec wizard's prison, is a place Dark wizards don't tend to leave. The top level of security is magical solitary confinement, cutting someone off from their magic and leaving them in a room without anything, even light. PK's not a fan of it.

Right now, he hopes Martin rots in there.

"We'll figure it out," Carey says quietly. "You know we will."

"Sure," PK says. "Right, of course. We'll figure it out."

He knows he sounds sarcastic. He just can't help it. He's so furious, and he doesn't know what to do with that, or how to stop being mad.

"Hey," Carey snaps, "have you forgotten we have a job to do? Pull it together. We have about six hours to get Melissa out and then blow our cover, so how about you stop feeling sorry for yourself and start thinking of ways to do it?"

The first stern word jerks him out of his reverie, and the next few sentences send his mind whirling. When Carey finishes, PK says, right on the heels of the last of Carey's words, "That's all the time we need. Melissa can Apparate - you can show her how to get there, I know you'll have stuff set up so someone can get to it. All we have to do is have a conversation in the lawn by Liam's house."

"And how do you suggest we get out of there?" Carey says.

PK shrugs. "If we make them think we're part of a rival organization - an Anglo one, I mean, look at us - they won't know where to look. We can Apparate to my place."

"What makes you think that'll work?"

"Melissa," PK says. "If she can spell us a bunch of trinkets, she can manage a single Apparation-masking charm. And they know now to look for her."

Carey leans away from him. His expression is pretty frankly appraising, and PK manages to be really pretty pleased with himself.

"Guess we'd better get going," Carey says, and stands up.

He doesn't offer PK a hand, but whatever he read into PK's words was apparently enough for him. Somehow, him turning his back and walking downstairs without waiting for PK is more comforting than anything else possibly could be. Especially given the solid certainty coming through the curse.

He follows Carey quickly, in time to see Carey sitting down across the living room from Melissa and saying, "We have to get you out of here. Now."

PK sits next to Carey on the couch, so still he's worried he's going to snap in two, while Carey explains the situation. He half expects Melissa to lose it, but as soon as she doesn't, he's embarrassed. She takes the news with the same practicality she's demonstrated with everything else, nodding and saying, "I can make you that charm. But we should do it now."

"I don't disagree, but why?" Carey says.

"Liam's home," she says. "Oh, stop it, don't look over there. You know he can't see me. But that doesn't mean he's not still suspicious of you two." She pulls out her wand. "I can make the charm extend throughout the property and hold it for twenty minutes. Go outside already." She waves a hand.

Carey and PK look at each other. PK can tell, thanks to the curse, that Carey's doing a quick tally of their stuff. They only have to Apparate with an extra charm beforehand, and their things will disappear, too. Melissa has instructions to get to the safe house. For all that it's been an hour since they got back, everything's done and they're ready to go.

"Let's go," he says when he realizes Carey's waiting on him. "No time like the present, right?"

"Of course," Carey says. He stands, and PK leads them outside.

They've rehearsed what they'll say with Melissa. "Dick wants a report," Carey says in English as they circle the property to stand close to Liam's lawn. The protection spells on the yard are virtually nonexistent, and PK feels a prickling at the back of his neck that means they're being watched. Or listened to.

"So tell him we're getting there," PK says. "If he wants the charm, he needs to be patient."

"I don't think he knows the meaning of patience."

"Then he can learn." PK shakes his head. "He's not going to move in on Mortimer's gang this quickly. He needs to calm down."

"Incendio!" someone yells, which is all the warning PK gets before he and Carey are diving to the side and clapping their hands together, Apparating.

For a moment, PK's in so much pain he's certain he's been splinched. But then he stumbles to his feet in Carey's apartment, and he realizes that he's fine, and so is Carey. Their stuff from the apartment is surrounding them, and no one's trying to kill them, so Melissa's charm must have worked. In fact, there's nothing at all that's wrong.

Except that the bond is gone.

"Keyed to location," Carey says.

At least Carey can still read him fairly well. Then again, they went a long time without any magical curse to help ease things along. Somehow, now that he's in Carey's apartment, that's much easier to remember.

"Yeah," PK says. "Wow."

"Sit down," Carey says. He waves his wand, clearing off the couch, then goes into his kitchen.

PK half wants to follow - sure, Carey's more used to undercover stuff, but PK's not an actual child - but suddenly, sitting down seems like the best idea anyone's ever had. He settles heavily onto the couch, rearranging himself five or six times because he suddenly doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin without the echo of Carey in the back of his mind.

When Carey comes back out, he has two tumblers of alcohol. "Vodka," he says when PK looks at him inquiringly.

Wizarding vodka is better than anything, and more calming besides. PK nods and takes a sip. "Thanks."

"Any time," Carey says. He takes a long sip of his, then says, "Coming down from all this will be weird."

"We have to tell Martin our cover's been blown."

"I sent him the code word in the kitchen," Carey says. "So if anyone tries to kill us tonight, we'll know why."

He sounds dry, but PK can't help but say, "If you'd rather I went home -"

Carey's already shaking his head, though. "We thought you'd have to stay here because of the curse, but the truth is, coming out of being undercover is weird, even when it's not that long. And it's not like the Aurors will give you the psych evaluation you should have. Stay here. My couch has a Transfiguration charm, all I have to do is tap it and it'll be a bed."

There's no reason for that statement to make PK's throat close up. They were sleeping in the same bed as a cover, and PK's loneliness since he moved away from his family, to Montreal, all mixed up with the way he felt about Carey at that house in the suburbs - all of that is beside the point. "Thanks," he says. "I'd like that."

"Good," Carey says, "because that's what's happening." He pauses, then adds, "Look. It's not just for you."

PK looks at him. His voice is reluctant and he's grimacing, but mostly, he looks calm.

Then again, PK's been riding alongside Carey's emotions for awhile now, and he knows what Carey can be thinking and feeling even when he looks this calm. "We'll keep each other from losing it, then," PK says, and raises his tumbler in a kind of salute.

Carey smirks and raises his, too, then knocks his entire drink back.

Carey's not a drinker, and neither is PK, really; but that night, they kill almost a full bottle of vodka, and neither of them even ends up that drunk. It's the tension, PK thinks; he knows he's going to sleep late tomorrow. It'd be nice if he could trust that he wouldn't be able to, because mediwizards would be swooping in to evaluate them. But he's not going to fool himself like that. Not anymore.

A little while after three in the morning, Carey says, "I have to go to bed." He stands up, looking unruffled except for a little flush in his cheeks, and his red lips. PK stares at him for a second. It occurs to him that he could kiss Carey - rather, that he can think about kissing Carey, and there's no way for Carey to know. There's no way for Carey to realize he's thinking about pulling Carey back down on the couch, straddling him and kissing him until they're both hard and desperate for it.

"Goodnight," PK says, turning away. "I'll set the bed up," he adds.

"Yeah, good." Carey sounds distracted. PK keeps his back turned until Carey's gone, tapping the couch and watching as it folds out into being a bed with thick, plush covers.

PK doesn't jerk off or anything. He casts a few hygiene spells and goes to bed. Normally he'd go through the motions of brushing his teeth, but right now he doesn't even want to risk running into Carey.

He's had enough to drink that he falls asleep quickly. When he wakes up, it's almost two PM, and the animated, magical calendar over the hearth informs him it's Saturday.

That's probably good, since it means they have a few days to figure out what to tell the office. PK's definitely not looking forward to them, though.

When Carey comes out of the kitchen, he's carrying a tray with two plates of eggs and tall glasses of orange juice. "Reinforced with all kinds of stuff," Carey says, passing PK the orange juice and ones of the plates of eggs.

"Thanks," PK says. He takes it, not really feeling hungry but knowing he should eat.

Five minutes later, the food is gone and he's halfway done with the orange juice. "Wow," he says, leaning back.

"Undercover's like that," Carey says, not even looking at him.

"I can tell," PK says. "Do you do this all the time?"

Carey shrugs. "I spend more time on assignments than not."

That's - PK's not going to think too hard about it, because it's sad, kind of intensely so. Instead, he says, "Well, I appreciate the food," and gets up, grabbing his and Carey's dishes.

He sets them to wash themselves, then comes back into the living room. Carey's got a scroll out and is reading it, frowning.

"Trouble?" PK says as he sits back down.

"Maybe," Carey says. "Martin send this over by owl this morning." He passes it over.

PK skims it. It's more adamant than anything he's ever gotten before, but that doesn't mean it's bad news. Well, maybe it's bad news. "He's not happy."

Carey fills in the gaps for him by saying, "He knows he can't say anything about us, since he didn't support us at all. But you're right - he's not happy."

"So what do we do?"

"What do you think?"

"We do what we can," PK says right away. This is kind of a no-brainer. "We take our assignments, and we try to come up with enough evidence to implicate him in the meantime."

"You're right about that," Carey says.

"Thanks," PK says. He's not really being sarcastic, but he can tell by Carey's half-hearted glare that Carey's not sure about that. "Seriously," he adds, taking pity on Carey. "It's not like I have a lot of experience doing anything but pushing paper."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," Carey says. He frowns at PK. "You're a smart Auror. When all this is done, you'll come on assignments with me again."

"Sure," PK says. "I don't have low self-esteem. But you still know more."

Carey glares at him. PK looks back, not really knowing what to do. He's trying to demonstrate a mutually respectful partnership, not get glared at.

"Fine," Carey says finally. "Anyway - you're right. All we can do is take his assignments. So for now, we grovel a bit, and then we go into work Monday."

"And in the meantime, we lay low."

"Exactly," Carey says. His lips twist with distaste when he looks at the scroll.

And PK knows exactly what he can do to make things better, here. "I'll write it," he says. "As soon as I finish my juice."

Carey relaxes minutely, leaning back into the couch. "Thanks."

PK doesn't quite manage to not think that the whole exchange would have been easier with their old curse. But he puts it out of his mind as best as he can in favor of writing a response. He makes it cheerful, and for the first time in weeks, doesn't dumb himself down. He also doesn't let on to the fact that they know about Martin's various betrayals, though. He owls it by four, and then goes back downstairs to the living room.

Carey's asleep on the couch, an open book about rodeo on his chest. PK smiles a little, around the stupid twisting in his chest that he absolutely did not ask for. He puts a cover on Carey, then goes upstairs. There's a Muggle television in Carey's guest room, and PK's really not interested in doing anything more complex than watching entirely non-magical people live out life's problems in almost-realistic detail.

He orders dinner. It's delivered at almost nine, at which point he wakes up Carey.

"Gah," Carey says. But when PK waves his lo mein in Carey's face, Carey sits upright and snags it.

"Thanks," he says. He shoves some in his mouth, then spends several minutes eating in silence. When he's done, he aims his wand at the kitchen and says, "Accio water."

A bottle of water flies into his hand. He takes a deep drink.

PK waits until he's swallowed to say, "We need to find a vampire."

Carey chokes on nothing. "What?"

"Melissa's trinket - which we need to get from her, by the way, even if I do have the original - anyway. It's vampire magic, which means Mortimer has to have had some contact with a vampire."

"I doubt they were friends," Carey says, frowning.

PK looks down. Carey's toes are poking out of the lumpy, crocheted blanket, curled up so tightly it looks uncomfortable. "Sure. But they still talked. If we talk to a vampire or two, maybe we'll get some leads on Martin."

"Easy as that," Carey says.

"I never said it was easy," PK says. "But we should still probably try to do it."

"Probably," Carey says. He finishes the water, then summons another bottle. "I might actually know where to find a couple."

PK's mouth doesn't fall open, but only because he's pretty sure that's a clichéd type of thing that doesn't actually happen much. He's stunned, though. "God," he finally manages to say. "Of course you do."

Carey smirks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're insane," PK says. "Really and truly."

"Uh-huh," Carey says. "So do you want to go meet her, or not?"

"Her?" PK says, already standing up and heading out to get his coat.

"Her," Carey confirms.

They both put on their coats, toe on their shoes, and Apparate to the address Carey gives. It's a Muggle bar, the name of which PK doesn't catch before Carey's hustling them inside.

"Will the coats offend her?" PK asks as they walk down the long bar, past the tables full of people in comfortable t-shirts, all the way to the back of the bar.

"No," Carey says shortly.

The woman at the very end of the bar turns. She looks normal, PK thinks: short brown hair, in her mid-30s, with pale skin. But when she smiles, PK's vision flickers, and he can just make out fangs.

"Hello, Carey," the woman says in French. "Who's this morsel you've brought me?"

"My partner," Carey says. He sounds completely unconcerned with PK being relegated to the position of food - but PK doesn't miss the way the woman leans back in her chair a little. "PK, this is Caroline."

"Caro," Caroline - Caro - says. She smiles. This time, PK can see her teeth clearly. "All my friends call me Caro."

"PK." PK hesitates for a bare second before sticking out his hand. If she decides to eat him, he might be fast enough to stop her. Her having one of his hands won't affect that much. "And I'm not a morsel," he adds, because what's a little suicidality in the scheme of things?

She actually laughs, smiling widely and shaking his hand. "Good instincts," she says. "Now, Carey, tell me why you've brought yourself and another Auror to my bar."

There's a threat in there. PK's not surprised when Carey doesn't delay before saying, "Mortimer."

Caro doesn't blink.

Carey sighs. He looks bored, to PK, but PK's not dumb enough to think that façade is genuine. "Jacques Martin."

"The head of the Aurors." Caro looks bored, too. PK doesn't know if that's fake or not. "Why are you naming men to me?"

"Did I say Mortimer was a man?"

She shrugs, the movement uncannily fluid. "They usually are." She picks up her drink and sips it. For the first time, PK notices how red and viscous it is - not enough to be completely blood, but enough to send a shiver down his spine. "So," she says. "You've found some trouble with this Mortimer."

"Enough to last me awhile."

"I know the name." She drains her drink and twitches a finger. The bartender walks over - under a thrall, PK's pretty sure. "We all do."

"Any particular reason for that?"

"I'll open us a table." She picks up the drink the bartender gave her; PK just catches the bartender tucking a bloody wrist away. She spelled him not to look, he realizes. "You two, order drinks. Etienne is very obliging." She stands and leaves them at the bar.

PK pretty much figures she's going to compel people away from a table, too. He doesn't want to watch it. Instead, he and Carey signal the bartender. Carey orders whiskey on the rocks; PK, feeling flustered, gets a beer. He realizes as the bartender sets it down in a plain glass that he has no idea what beer he even ordered.

"Come on," Carey says. "She's waiting."

"I can wait," Caro says in their ears. It's only PK's Auror training, and also a kind of lack of survival skills, that mean he doesn't jump.

They go over to the table and sit down. She looks amused for the few seconds before Carey says, "I know you're immortal, but we're not. How do you know Mortimer's name?"

"Every so often, some wizard comes sniffing around vampire business." Caro smiles. Her lips are really red from the drink, and she looks so casually cruel PK's honestly kind of impressed.
"You see, wizards are too proud to consider using house elf or goblin magic. But vampires? Well, the rumor is we were once wizards. So naturally, wizards want to know how our magic...ticks."

"The rumor?" PK says before he can stop himself.

Caro looks at him and takes a long sip of her drink. "The rumor," she says. "You're welcome to try to untangle the truth of that. I'm sure you'll taste wonderful to whoever tires of your efforts."

"Caro," Carey says sharply.

"Ah," she says. "Yes: Mortimer. As I said, every so often, wizards come asking. I suppose someone helped him with his little project."

"You suppose?" PK says. "That's it?"

"What did you expect me to say?"

"He's using vampire magic to siphon magic away from wizards." PK's just self-aware enough to keep his voice down, but wow. He wasn't expecting to be this angry. "So, what, you think that's fine?"

"If he'd killed one of mine, I'd know. Otherwise? One more dead wizard."

"But secrecy -"

"Our secrets aren't mine to keep safe. I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"You talk a good game," Carey says, "but if you really believed what you're trying to sell us, you wouldn't have admitted to knowing his name."

Caro turns her gaze to Carey, who doesn't so much as flinch. "Very smart," she says. "As it happens, this particular wizard is more invasive than I'd really prefer."

"What do you mean?"

"He took someone," Caro says. "A witch."

"Melissa."

"An Anglo," Caro says, "yes. Let's just say I had my eye on her - until one day, I didn't. And I was powerless to stop him as he took her."

"That's it," PK says. "You're not worried about her being taken, you're worried about how you couldn't stop him."

"Wouldn't you be?"

Probably. PK's not going to tell himself he wants to be like a Muggle, not with his family's long history of magic.

"You had your eye on Melissa," Carey says suddenly. "You mean you wanted to turn her."

"I haven't for three hundred years. Will you tell me I should leave her alone?"

"You can't find her now," Carey says.

"She's in your safe house. Don't be a child."

Carey clenches his jaw. "Fine. You're ahead of us; you'll always be ahead of us. Why are you even talking to us?"

Caro looks at him for a long enough moment that PK's a little worried she's put him under thrall. Then she says, "Why do you think?"

Carey glances at PK, then at the other patrons of the bar. He leans back in his chair and says, "You're lonely."

PK can see, out of the corner of his eye, Carey's hand tighten on his wand. PK does the same.

"I'm lonely?"

"You cared about her. You don't like being made helpless, but if that was it you'd have found Mortimer and killed him already. It's beyond that. You don't want to jeopardize her safety - and now the secret's out, and you do feel responsible. That's why you're meeting with us. You know we can stop this."

"A generous interpretation of my actions."

"You're not going to call me arrogant?"

"It's true that you can stop it, in your own clumsy, human way." Caro shrugs. "I dislike society."

"So you live in Montreal?" PK can't help but say.

"I go where the food is," Caro says. "But I do care about her, you're right about that. And the others I know - they're restless. If we take care of this, it will get very messy. And that snake Martin will still stay in the Aurors headquarters, polluting what he touches. Once I cared about human justice, so now I am asking you: finish this."

"Good," Carey says. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"Meaning?" Caro says.

Carey glances at PK. PK takes the cue and leans forward. "We recreated the spell Mortimer used. But we need your help on figuring out how to stop him, and the spell. We don't know nearly enough about it."

"Tomorrow night," Caro says. "Ten PM sharp. Your safehouse." She sips her drink. "Now go."

So they leave. PK does feel a little embarrassed, going into the cool summer night so quickly, but it's better than making her rescind the offer she just made. "That was intense," he says when they're safely back at Carey's.

"She's like that. But we got what we want."

"I guess."

"You guess?"

PK shrugs. "I wasn't expecting to get swept into a web of...vampire lesbian intrigue."

"Because there's something wrong with that?" Carey says sharply.

PK blinks at him. Then says, stupidly, "We kissed. We've slept together. I don't - no, it's fine."

"I meant the vampire part," Carey says, but he seems mollified. PK's going to leave it, because wow: that was weird. "And we're not...you know, you should go out."

"It's almost midnight."

"I don't care if you bring someone back."

"You're kind of crazy," PK says, and means it. He can tell Carey's trying to get even with his internal justice scale, though, which he does sometimes. It's not personal. So PK claps him on the shoulder and says, "I'm going to go to bed."

"Me too," Carey says, and goes back into his room so quickly PK doesn't even have time to point out he didn't take off his boots.

PK ends up hard that night, lying on Carey's couch. Normally, in this kind of situation, he'd just go to the bathroom and take care of it. There's no real reason for him to be resisting. He's gotten off on resisting before, but that's not what this is about. He knows Carey doesn't want it, knows that to Carey he's a partner who's done inconvenient things a few times. It feels dishonest to get himself off in Carey's apartment, knowing what he knows, even if he does think about the curve of Carey's neck and his long, strong arms and legs.

Instead, he screws his eyes shut and does his best to think about nothing at all. As it turns out, he succeeds; he wakes up the next morning with no real memory of even getting sleepy.

It's strange to be awake in the morning, after the hours they've been keeping. PK sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and tries to force his brain to work. It's not an easy venture.

Especially not when Carey comes out in boxers and nothing else. "Oh," Carey says thickly. "Fuck, I forgot you're here."

"It's fine," PK says. He gets up so quickly he hits the table, making his coffee slosh. "I can go."

"No," Carey says. "Relax. I'll be right back." He ducks out of the kitchen, skin blotchy all down his shoulders.

He comes back in pajama shorts and a shirt. "Coffee?"

"In the pot." PK watches Carey get some and very deliberately doesn't think about how domestic they are.

"I wouldn't've called Caro and Melissa," Carey says, sitting down with his coffee.

"No?"

Carey shakes his head. "I've never known Caro to care about sex, not really. She'll get kind of, you know - calling you a morsel. But she's not one to seduce humans."

Not like the vampires in wizarding books, then. "Maybe she really cares."

Carey nods. "She does. It's kind of weird."

"I think it's sweet," PK says. "In a way, anyway."

Carey takes a sip of his coffee, looking judgmental.

"I do. Being that old -" PK shakes his head, thinking of his family. "It would be hard," he finishes lamely. He doesn't know how to articulate what he's thinking, his sisters and brothers dying as he lives on.

"I have a big family, too," Carey says. "Speaking of. You should Floo them."

"Oh." PK blinks. It's been weeks. They knew he was going undercover, but he didn't even think of them, even now when he was thinking about them. "Oh, Merlin's balls, you're right."

"Hey." Carey kicks him lightly. "This is part of the come-down. Quit giving yourself shit and just do it."

"I'm going to shower first." PK finishes his coffee and stands. "You're good?"

"I don't need a babysitter, if that's what you mean."

"Obviously," PK says, and goes back to Carey's bathroom.

His clothes from the house are all here, so he summons some Muggle jeans and a shirt and then turns the water on. He waits until he's washed himself before he admits he's going to jerk off, but from there it's just a matter of doing it; he's already plenty turned on, just smelling the faint scent of Carey's shampoo. It's embarrassing, but as he comes, shuddering, he manages to care a little less than he has been.

Carey's living room has a fireplace, just like nearly all the Wizarding homes PK knows of. He tosses some Floo powder in, then sticks his head into the fireplace, saying, "The Subbans, Toronto."

His mother's sitting in the living room. "PK!" she says as soon as his head appears. "Is everything all right? You -"

"Hi," PK says awkwardly. "Everything's fine. Um."

It takes him awhile to explain everything - well, most things; he doesn't talk about Martin. No one else is in the house, apparently. PK quashes disappointment and promises to visit next week, before Malcolm and Jordan go off to school. He knows it makes him ridiculous, but he feels disappointed when he disconnects after almost an hour of talking. He'd like a hug from his parents, after all this.

"What about your mother?" PK says when he's cleaned up.

Carey, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up, shrugs. "I owled her. She doesn't tend to keep a fire running; I'll probably talk to her later today."

Carey's so much calmer about this that PK is honestly jealous. "Oh."

"I went to the library." The book Carey holds up, On Vampyres And Their Magick, makes it obvious he doesn't mean the Muggle library. "Do you want a copy?"

"Might as well," PK says. He can get through it before ten if he starts reading now.

Carey taps the book with his wand, and it obediently duplicates, glowing with the magic of the Quebec wizarding library. Carey tosses him the book, then goes back to his copy.

Carey talks to his mom, but aside from that they mostly read for the rest of the day. They've eaten dinner and have sat around nervously by the time 9:55 rolls around, at which point Carey says, "Let's go."

They Apparate to the street Carey's safe house is on. Carey leads PK to the house itself, PK doing his best to ignore the dizzying, almost sickening feeling that always comes with being led to an Unplottable, concealed location for the first time.

The feeling's died by the time they knock on the door - which is good, because it's Caro who answers.

"Come in," she says.

"It's my house," Carey says, brushing past her.

Caro's laugh sounds unnatural, like sandpaper against squealing styrofoam. PK winces, then says, "Where's Melissa?"

"In the kitchen, and so should you be," Caro says. "Come on. We need to get this done."

Melissa is, indeed, in the kitchen. It's a weirdly familiar scene, Melissa sitting and looking at magical artifacts on the kitchen table.

"Good to see you made it out," he says.

Melissa looks up. "The two of you gave me pretty thorough help."

"Still," PK says.

"As touching a show of generosity as this is, we ought to be moving more quickly," Caro says behind them.

She says it in French, of course, so PK switches, saying, "Sure. Carey?"

Carey nods and sits. Caro settles down, and the three of them look at Melissa.

She doesn't appear unnerved by the attention. On the contrary, she sits up a little straighter and says, "Caro's help has made this a lot simpler."

So they've been together all day. It's probably ridiculous for PK to be kind of surprised. "Have you figured out how Mortimer's keeping so much power?"

"It's a simple spell, really. What we did, with a few modifications." Melissa shrugs. "It was easy to untangle, in the end."

"So we can stop him?" Carey says.

"No," Melissa says. "Not that easily, anyway."

When she doesn't say anything else, PK says, "So how do we stop him?"

"With the power he siphoned from me alone, he could maintain protective spells that make the British Voldemort's Horcruxes look like child's play." Melissa sighs. "I wish I had good news, but the truth is, I have no idea how to stop him. There's nothing in vampire magic that can block him from using the spell, now that he knows it."

"And all the Aurors in Montreal wouldn't be enough to overcome that kind of power," Carey says.

It's not a question, but Melissa nods anyway. "Exactly."

"That's great," Carey says. His sarcasm, PK thinks, could cut through a steel door. "What excellent news."

"It could be worse," Melissa says. "As things stand, you have a very good chance of ensuring that Martin doesn't do that much more damage."

"Oh, well, in that case," Carey says.

Melissa shrugs. "If you don't want to look on the bright side, it's not my problem."

Carey pulls a face, but PK's focused on Melissa. She looks so much more comfortable and confident here in Carey's safe house than she did at any point in time in the house in the suburbs. PK guesses that makes sense, but he also wishes he had some way of judging how much of Melissa's calm is Caro's influence.

"Any suggestions for dealing with Martin?" he says finally, when it becomes obvious Carey's not interested in saying anything else.

"You have one thing in your favor," Caro says, sounding bored. "Martin is unlikely to have access to the vampire magic Mortimer's using. Ensure that he doesn't get it. I'm afraid we can't give more advice until you have the measure of your work environment."

That makes sense. It also makes PK feel incredibly anxious for the day ahead. "Thank you," he says finally. "I - we - really appreciate it."

Caro inclines her head.

"We should take one of these," Carey says abruptly, tapping the artifact Melissa enchanted with her wand.

Melissa raises her eyebrows. "Would you like to tell me why you think I'd give you one?"

"It can be used to store magic, which is good, but it can also be used to take magic. Tell me if you know of a more powerful weapon a wizard could possibly use."

"The killing curse?" Caro suggests dryly.

"All the post-Voldemort research that was done with that has rendered it less fatal," PK finds himself saying.

Caro looks at him. He feels kind of proud; she's more obviously surprised than she's been in awhile.

"Very well," she says finally. "You may take one, and only one. Don't try to make more. That spell you and Melissa tried was child's play compared to the one that rests in any of these."

"Thank you," PK says.

"It's not custom to thank a vampire," Caro says.

"You're helping us." PK shrugs. He picks up a necklace, a thick silver chain, and pockets it. "Our secret weapon," he adds, flashing Carey a smile.

"Be careful," Melissa says. She frowns a little. "I have Caro's protection. All you have is that necklace and your own stupidity."

"We survived an infiltration attempt," Carey says. "We can also survive Martin's idiocy. Will you two be staying here?"

"For the time being," Melissa says.

PK doesn't miss the frank look she gives Caro. It's kind of embarrassing, actually. "Great," PK says. "In that case, we're going to be in touch. Martin probably won't be following us as closely, especially not since he's going to give us an awful beat. We'll try to collect as much information as we can, and meet you back here in a week?"

"The blink of an eye," Caro says wryly. "Yes, I think that will work very well."

"Awesome." PK forces a smile, roughly a hundred times more cheerful than he actually feels. "See you then." He grabs Carey's hand and pulls him out the door, before Carey has time to protest.

"I could've handled that," Carey says when they're back in his apartment.

"I know," PK says. "But this is what a partnership is. And anyway, I know not being able to do much drives you crazy."

Carey scowls, but he doesn't protest or deny it. PK punches his shoulder. "So we'll get things done," he says. "But right now, we should rest. You should rest."

"I guess," Carey says. He half-mutters it, a sour look on his face.

PK laughs at him a little because, well, he can't help it. "Go shower," he says. "We'll want to arrive early tomorrow, and it's already pretty late."

Carey, to PK's surprise, actually does it.

PK wouldn't admit it to anyone, he doesn't think, but he's not exactly relaxed as they head into work the next day. The details of their assignment were vague, so it's not like anyone knows to expect them, or even has any idea where they were. But something about just strolling in still makes PK really uncomfortable. And it's not even "something", he thinks; it's the simple fact that Martin is an evil, murdering Dark wizard, and PK and Carey are expected to work under him, knowing that, and trying to take him down. It's like they're still undercover, only at the office PK's all too familiar with. And that's frustrating.

"Stay calm," Carey says to him quietly as they settle down at their desks.

"I'm as calm as could be," PK replies. He pulls out a pen and begins writing a report.

"Subban! Price!" Martin's voice materializes near them, barking loudly enough to make PK jump. He caps his pen and follows Carey into Martin's office, trying and totally failing not to feel apprehensive.

"Sir," Carey says when they get inside, nodding his head.

"Close the door," Martin says.

When it's close, he looks at them with distaste. "You failed."

"We did our best," Carey says. "But we were compromised."

"You're never compromised."

"I was this time."

PK, for a second, doubts Carey's strategy. Sure, he's lying, but he's not exactly subtle about it. PK can't help but think that the lack of an alibi, or any kind of substantiation, is going to seriously hurt them.

But then Martin relaxes and says, "Well. Since apparently the two of you can't handle an undercover case, I've assigned Plekanec to it. You two will be on the Muggle Artifacts beat."

The Quebec Aurors have a beat for wizards who've injured themselves with Muggle tools. It's boring, repetitive work, but right now, PK's relieved to be given it. "Thank you, sir," he says.

"You can work your way back up from there." Martin glances down at a stack of papers in front of him. "You may leave now," he adds. "Before you do any more damage."

When they get back to their desks, PK writes on a scrap of paper, well?

He doesn't suspect anything, Carey writes back. He was expecting me to mess up, especially with you.

His expression is neutral when PK looks at him, but PK's absolutely certain Carey feels nothing but disdain for Martin. Hopefully, that will make their jobs easier. Guess we should just wait for another wizard to injure himself, then.

Wait and plan, Carey sends back. When PK's read it, he taps the paper. It goes blank again.

They go out on two calls that day, summoned by reports that appear on their shared bulletin board. One man has given himself a mild shock with a plug he had installed in his home, and one woman got her hair stuck in a Muggle blow-dryer. They're both incredibly mundane and take around fifteen minutes each to resolve.

"I can't help but think," PK says when they Apparate back to Carey's apartment that night, "that it's kind of a massive waste of resources to have us both assigned to that."

"We were just undertaking one of the most dangerous assignments Aurors could have," Carey says, "and they don't even have to pay us senior salaries yet. So yes: it's a waste having us chasing down people who can't leave well enough alone."

"Also," PK says, "I don't understand why Martin would assign us to Mortimer's case to begin with, if he's working with him."

Carey shrugs. "Martin may not be that bright, or he was counting on us being killed in action. Or, more likely, he really did want us to take out Mortimer. He could collect the evidence, including Mortimer's discoveries and his power, and no one would be the wiser."

The latter had occurred to PK, but he hadn't wanted to think about it. Now, he does, and the back of his neck prickles. "I hate this," he admits.

"Me, too," Carey says. "Anyway, we should go to bed early. At three we're going to be breaking into headquarters."

PK nearly chokes. "Are you serious?"

Carey just looks at him.

"...stupid question, okay," PK says. "I'll, um, get dinner started."

He makes fried rice and they eat it in silence. He can see Carey slipping into character - what character, PK doesn't know. Whoever he has to be to break into the Montreal Auror's headquarters in an attempt to gather evidence, PK guesses.

PK himself does as Carey says and goes to bed early. He extinguishes all the lights in the living room, too; he feels kind of rude, but even as he does it, Carey says, "Goodnight," and goes upstairs. PK initially thinks he'll be up half the night, but it's barely eight before he falls asleep.

He wakes up at three sharp, his alarm charm - an invention PK's proud of, even if it is so minor it barely matters - jolting him awake. For a second he looks around wildly; then he remembers where he is and relaxes.

Then he jumps again, because Carey's sitting in the armchair, watching him.

"Tesla's mother in bed with a pig. I'll get dressed," PK says when he manages to breathe again.

"Sure," Carey says. "Creative cursing."

"I try." PK makes his escape to Carey's closet, where PK's clothes are.

When he's dressed, he and Carey cast as many concealment charms on each other as they can reasonably carry. They Apparate to the block the Auror's headquarters is on, but don't go in right away. Instead, they walk down an alley until they're facing the back end of the building.

There are no entrances and exits; this building has belonged to the Aurors for over a hundred years, and back then, they took security and their own place in Wizarding law a lot more seriously. But PK's been a wizard his whole life, and he's never made the mistake of thinking that no doors means he can't enter.

Carey sends him a questioning look, and PK nods; Carey would know PK can do this, if he's read PK's file. When he nods, Carey steps back, and PK lifts his wand and begins the spell.

Creating an entrance where there is none can be done a lot of ways. Magic can knock brick and mortar down, but that doesn't really help when a building is as fortified and likely to try to kill intruders as the Auror's headquarters. But PK knows spells that bend space and burrow through it, spells that make existing protection spells bend around them. By the time PK's done casting charms and heavier spells, the building hasn't outwardly changed - but there's a path leading into it, entirely free of any kind of magic.

To finish it, and make them able to go inside, PK steps forward and draws a rune on the brick with his wand. The light at the end of his wand fades as the rune sinks in, and PK presses a hand against the brick.

It goes straight through. He turns and grins back at PK. "One PK Special, all for you," he says, voice pitched low.

Carey doesn't answer, just brushes past PK and into the space. PK steps through, as well, and then they're in the basement. The building won't set off an alarm now that they're inside: they're Aurors, and the magic won't register that they shouldn't be here.

"Do you really call it the PK Special?" Carey says as they climb rickety stairs to the first floor.

"What else should I call it?"

"It's derivative of any number of spells. The traditional cloaking spell to get onto Wizarding transit -"

"Isn't nearly as great as my spell," PK says. "Anyway, relax. It's not like I'm going to sell it. Other spells like it exist, mine's just probably the best at making sure no alarms go off."

They emerge onto the first floor. Carey walks past reception like it's no big deal and into the huge room that houses, among other things, his and PK's cubicles.

Martin's office is on the far end of the room. PK tells himself that being jumpy would be stupid and follows Carey.

Carey lets himself into Martin's office so nonchalantly that for a single, blinding second, PK really wants to kiss him. Then he shakes himself and comes back to reality, saying, "Where should I search?"

"Look for hidden compartments," Carey says. "I'm going to go through his papers."

At least they're not Muggles, PK thinks. There's no reason to worry about hiding their fingerprints; they can cast a spell to scrub the scene of evidence as easily as breathing. It's technically a highly illegal spell, but then, so is breaking into the director of the Montreal Auror division's office.

He starts searching for hidden compartments in the desk, on the opposite end of it from Carey. It's an old, solidly-built wooden desk, and PK has to pay enough attention to his search that for a good half hour, he ignores Carey. He moves from the desk to the walls, and then to Martin's filing cabinets - but he doesn't find anything.

He can tell from Carey's frustrated fist landing heavily on the desk that Carey hasn't found anything either. "Damn it," Carey mutters.

"We'll find it," PK says. "This is a physical search. If he's used an Eternity Pocket -"

"We'll need to spend a whole night in here," Carey says. "I know."

An Eternity Pocket is just a dramatic name for a folded-up bit of space, created and made accessible by magic. It could be anywhere, and only Martin knows exactly what spell to cast to reveal it. PK knows there are workarounds, but Carey's right: it would take them way longer than they have right now.

"We should go home," PK says when he can't think of anything comforting to say. "There's no sense in staying and driving ourselves crazy."

"I know," Carey says. "This is step one. I know."

PK doesn't say anything. He knows they were both hoping Martin would be stupid enough to leave evidence in clear view.

"Let's go," Carey says after a long, tense moment.

PK leads the way out. The nicest thing about the PK Special is it's easy to close - PK says, "Done," and the spells snap out of existence, leaving the Auror building as it was.

When they get back to Carey's, it's only four in the morning. But PK's so keyed up he knows he's not going to sleep. "Hey," he says, then thinks better of it and falls silent.

But Carey pauses in going back to his room, turning around. "What?"

PK feels put on the spot, like he always does when Carey looks at him. "I'm probably not going to sleep," he admits.

He mostly just expects Carey to tell him to suck it up, or something. But Carey stares at him, the moment drawing out until PK feels like he has to say something.

He opens his mouth, and Carey shakes his head. Not just his head, actually, PK notices: it's a sort of full-body shake.

"Let's draw up a search plan, then," Carey says. He's not looking at PK now. Whatever was going on, the spell's broken.

PK is relieved. "Yeah. Good idea," he says, and they summon paper and settle down at the kitchen table together.

Two hours later, the sun is just starting to rise, and they have a workable plan of how to search Martin's office for Eternity Pockets, disguised documents, and other magic. PK yawns. "Maybe staying up all night wasn't the smartest choice," he says.

"You wouldn't have slept." Carey's voice is scratchy. "Coffee," he commands, waving his wand at the coffee maker.

PK really is wedded to the ritual, but right now, he's not going to protest. "Probably not," he says. He taps his fingers on the table. "This has turned into our base of operations," he says, smiling slightly.

"Different tables at the suburbs house and my safe house," Carey says.

"Well, yeah, but it's the same principle."

"True enough." The coffee maker hisses as they stare into space.

"Do you ever get scared?" PK asks before he can think better of it.

He expects Carey to snap or say something sarcastic. That's the Carey he knows - the Carey he came to know, after being partners for awhile.

But when he looks directly at Carey, Carey mostly just looks tired.

"Sometimes," Carey says. His hand clenches into a fist on the table, then relaxes, palm up. "Sometimes," he says again, and gets up.

He gets them both mugs of coffee. They sit slumped in their chairs, watching the sun come up. PK doesn't ask what's on Carey's mind. Personally, he's just doing his best not to think about having to spend another day on the Muggle Artifacts beat.

"Well," Carey says finally, standing, "we'd better get ready to go."

Right. PK tosses back the last of his coffee and goes to get dressed.

Two agonizing days pass. He and Carey agree not to break into Martin's office again right away; they both don't want to push their luck. Which means they're working the Muggle beat during the day, and going home to spend awkward time together, neither of them really talking about the impossibility of what they're trying to do.

On the third night, Friday night, PK says, "We should try again tonight."

Carey nods. "Absolutely."

"Before we widen the search outside of his office."

"No argument here."

"And you still think we shouldn't contact the Royal Aurors?"

Carey shakes his head. "We have no evidence," he points out, "and they're not likely to completely change one of their biggest branches based on two junior Aurors' claims."

It's a good point, but one that makes PK uncomfortable anyway. "You're right," he says finally, because Carey is, and PK himself needs to get that into his head.

"Three again?" Carey says, standing up.

"Works for me," PK says.

"Good." Carey claps him on the shoulder. "I'm headed to bed."

PK doesn't bother to say goodnight, still wrestling with how uncomfortable he feels. Carey doesn't wait for him to say it.

He wakes up at quarter to three this time. Getting into the building is easier the second time; it's also easier to go into Martin's office. PK's so focused on the job that it doesn't occur to him to be nervous until Carey says, "PK," in an urgent voice.

"What?" PK says. He turns around from where he was spelling documents to reveal their true contents - and almost falls over.

In the dim light they've cast shines a pale green orb. It's hovering near Carey's shoulder, tiny sparks of black darting over it. Carey's found an Eternity Pocket.

"I will admit," Carey says in a deliberately level voice, "I'm somewhat worried about reaching inside."

PK directs his wand at it and recites a series of charms. Slowly, it unfolds, casting its green glow over Carey's skin. The effect is eerie, doubly so when all that's revealed is a key.

"Think Martin was smart enough to put security on it?" Carey says.

"Only one way to find out," PK says, and taps it with his wand.

The key duplicates. PK reaches out and grabs the duplicate, ignoring the shock that goes through him when he touches the edges of the Eternity Pocket.

"Fold that thing back up and let's go," PK says. "I don't like this."

Carey puts the Pocket back where it was, and they leave quickly.

"Well," Carey says when they get back to his apartment. "This is both better and worse than it could be."

PK weighs the key in his hand. "I guess now we just have to find out where it's from."

"Some old-fashioned detective work," Carey says.

He doesn't sound that happy about it; PK can't really blame him. So far, they haven't really gotten any breaks or any easy answers. And the longer this goes on, the more people Mortimer has a chance to victimize. People like Melissa, who's going to have to live with a year stolen from her forever.

"Great," PK says, as unenthusiastically as Carey.

He's surprised when Carey covers PK's hand, curling around the key. "Take this and put it somewhere safe," Carey says. "Don't tell me where, don't tell me what spells you cast on it. You can get it this weekend, and we'll see if we can track down its origin. But just in case..."

PK nods. "Yeah, I get it."

"Good." Carey pulls his hand away. PK doesn't flex his fingers or anything, but he wants to; he feels burned from where Carey touched him.

After a moment more than long enough to be awkward, he says, "I should go to bed."

"You should," Carey says. "I should too."

They stare at each other.

PK wants so much. He knows it's the wrong time; he knows Carey might even be the wrong person. Probably is, really. He just...doesn't care. Looking at Carey, all he wants is to touch him.

Carey breaks first, unsurprisingly. "I'm going to go to bed."

He says it quietly, looking away from PK. PK shoves the now-familiar disappointment down and says, "Yeah, okay."

But he surprises himself when Carey gets to the stairs. Without thinking about it, he blurts out, "Do you get lonely?"

Carey stops, turns, and looks at PK. "What?"

"Do you get lonely?" PK says. "I mean - we were living in each other's heads, and now..."

"No," Carey says harshly. "I didn't want that."

"Right, me neither," PK says. "But you spend so much time alone, undercover. I just thought, I don't know, that maybe you didn't mind it so much."

Carey stares at him, and stares at him, until PK says, "Never mind," and turns around.

Then Carey stalks over to him, grabs his shirt, and hauls him in, kissing him.

PK's kissed too many people to react in any way other than kissing back. He kisses Carey and kisses him, arching his back into Carey's hand, grabbing a handful of Carey's hair. It's fast and hot and messy, and PK feels like he's going to break over how badly he wants it to continue.

When Carey pulls away, his hair is all messed up and his lips are red. PK's hard and aching, and all he can think when he stares at Carey is, I did that.

Carey looks panicked. Carey looks desperate. It's not a look PK really wants to see on him, but PK's pretty sure he knows what it means, and he's absolutely sure he knows what to do with it. He steps forward and kisses Carey again.

He tries to make it gentle. There's no reason for Carey to be panicking, PK tells himself, because this is about something they both want. But Carey makes it rough again, nipping at PK's lips and dragging his nails over the small of PK's back.

They make out standing up for what feels like forever. PK's not sure he's even done this before, standing kind of awkwardly in the middle of a room. But it doesn't matter, not when Carey's tucking his hands into PK's pants to grip the curve of his ass, or shoving his shirt up, or cradling PK's face.

When they break apart again, PK keeps a grip on Carey's shoulder. He doesn't want Carey to go anywhere. "Hey," he says when Carey stares at a point over PK's shoulder, panting.

Carey licks his lips - redder now, and swollen - and says in a scratchy voice, "PK."

"Carey," PK says.

Carey blinks once, twice, then shakes his head. He grabs PK's hand, tangling their fingers together, and says, "Come on. My bed."

PK manages to keep his full-body shiver mostly invisible. He makes himself say, "We don't have to."

Carey laughs, sounding wild. "I want to. Fuck, this is the worst case I've ever been on, and I still want to."

"Okay," PK says. "That's - yeah, okay." He offers a deliberately cheesy smile. "Let's do it."

Carey's expression shifts to surprise, and he snorts and shakes his head. "Only you," he says, then turns, pulling PK down the hall.

PK's not sure what he expects, but it's not for Carey to pin him against the wall of his bedroom and kiss him sweetly. He's so involved in it that he barely notices Carey's hands undoing his jeans, until Carey's pulling his pants down.

Then Carey's hands are hot on his hips, nearly skimming under his boxers. PK shivers and tugs at Carey's robes, then at the t-shirt underneath.

He wants to look, wants to lay Carey out and kiss him all over. But he knows they can't do that right now; he knows Carey will stop him if he tries. So instead he keeps kissing Carey and walks them over to the bed, pulling Carey on top of him.

"I could blow you," Carey says, rolling his hips against PK's.

PK shudders and tugs at Carey's jeans. "Whatever," PK says, kissing Carey's neck. "I don't..."

He stops himself, barely, from saying 'I just want to touch you.' Instead he offers a smile and says, "I'm good with almost anything, really."

"Well, in that case," Carey says. He sounds almost cranky, until PK moves up and kisses him, then sticks his hand in Carey's boxers.

Carey gasps and thrusts his hips. It's gratifyingly responsive, even moreso when PK kisses Carey's neck and Carey says, raggedly, "Please."

It sounds like he's revealing a lot more than just the desire for PK to keep going. PK wants to push at that, wants to know how long it's been and why Carey insists on hiding everything, but even with his dick running things, he knows now's not the time. Instead, he rolls them, pulling down Carey's boxers and saying, "Or, I could blow you."

Carey looks dazed. "Yeah, sure," he says, letting his head fall against the pillow with a thump.

PK can't help but smile. He lowers his head and licks Carey, long and slow, before pulling back and licking his hand, too.

PK's good at this. He knows it, and so do the guys he sleeps with. He likes doing this. But all of that doesn't explain why he's so intent on Carey, why Carey gasping and shifting a little in spite of himself is so gratifying. PK does his best to take Carey apart, playing with his balls and digging his fingers into Carey's hips as he goes down on him.

He doesn't make Carey come, though. Carey gasps, "Wait, wait," and PK pulls off.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. "What?"

Carey swallows and reaches up, pulling PK down to kiss him. Their dicks slide together, helped along by how slick Carey's is. PK groans into the kiss, because fuck, he was getting off on getting Carey off. A lot.

When Carey pulls away, it's to say, "Can I fuck you?"

PK doesn't always say yes. He feels like he should remember that, because when Carey asks, PK doesn't hesitate in the slightest before saying, "Yes," and lying down next to Carey.

PK's been with guys who have to use their literal wands for lubrication. Carey just opens his hand and it's slick, and then he's kissing PK's knee and pressing two fingers inside.

It's not slow or gentle, which is good. PK doesn't need that. What he wants is to feel Carey, all over, and that's what Carey gives him. PK groans and rocks his hips against Carey's hand, feet planted on the bed as Carey jerks him off and fingers him.

"Yeah," Carey says. He sounds wrecked. "I'm going to - here." His hand slows on PK's dick, then stops; PK spreads his legs a little wider and tilts his head to watch as Carey presses into him.

He's glad they're doing this face-to-face. Carey's eyes flutter closed, and he groans like it's been ripped out of him, fingers tight on PK's knees.

When he's all the way in, he opens his eyes and looks at PK. "Are you okay?" he says.

It sounds like a demand. PK's happy to answer it, nodding and saying, "Good as I've ever been."

Carey swallows and says, "You - you should get yourself off."

PK's not sure what he's trying to say; there's a meaning there that PK knows he's not catching. But he says, "Oh, I'm going to," stroking himself as Carey thrusts into him.

He loses track of time as Carey fucks him, in the best way possible. Carey stares down at him, intensely but not intensely enough to make PK look away. PK jerks himself off and reaches out to touch Carey everywhere he can, reveling in the feeling until Carey's rhythm breaks off, then stops entirely as he comes.

PK feels like maybe he should be embarrassed by how hard he comes when Carey touches his dick, but he's too busy feeling like his entire life's been made.

He's always sleepy after, and now is no different. Carey takes care of most of the practical details of cleaning up; PK just lounges, watching him. "You have a cute ass," PK says when Carey turns to look at him.

Carey scowls.

PK yawns. "When you stand up it dimples," he adds, burrowing into the covers.

"Make yourself at home," Carey says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

PK smiles up at him, then raises an arm. "Come on."

"Fine," Carey says. But when he gets into bed, he curls around PK, pulling him close.

It'll probably get too hot sooner rather than later, but right now, PK can feel the worries of the night draining away. Right now, he doesn't feel the need to think about Martin, Mortimer, or vampire magic. Carey's against him, breathing softly, and PK...PK feels really, really happy.

Hooking up is good for him, he concludes as he falls asleep.

He wakes up warm and being firmly gripped by Carey. He grins and rolls over, saying, "Hey, man."

Carey mumbles something incoherent and makes a face. His arms are still sort of around PK, and when PK gently jostles him, he kicks.

PK manages not to laugh, barely. But hey: they don't have anywhere to be right away, and Carey's clinging to him so much that PK's almost certain he won't be pushed away. So he leans in and kisses Carey, gently, cupping his face with one hand.

When he pulls away, Carey's blinking away. "Good morning," PK says. "It's Saturday."

That's kind of inane, but Carey doesn't push him away. He says, "Like I said, I'm going to blow you," and rolls on top of PK.

PK's familiar with how quickly Carey wakes up, but it's a little different to have all that focused on him. Carey strips him with ruthless efficiency.

What follows is pretty much the best blowjob of PK's life. When Carey finishes, PK pins him along PK's side and jerks him off, kissing him through it. They finally pull apart and Carey makes a face at him, but PK just smiles.

"Go brush your teeth," Carey says, rolling out of bed.

He sounds like someone's cranky grandpa, a comparison that's only somewhat creepy, considering he's just had PK's dick in his mouth. "Aye aye," PK says, and goes into the bathroom.

It's not until they've both showered and have settled down in the living room with coffee that PK remembers the key he hid, and the trouble they might be in. That makes him a lot more serious, a lot more quickly. He knows it's a problem; he knows they probably need more help than a vampire and an artifacts expert can give them. But he doesn't know where they'd find that help, or even what they'd ask of it.

Then he remembers Hal. "Carey?"

Carey looks at him over the rim of his mug.

PK takes a deliberate sip of coffee, then says, "What do you think about telling Hal some of this?"

Carey goes very still and swallows hard. "Why do you think we should do that?"

PK shrugs. "Why do you think we shouldn't?"

"I never said that."

"Can we stop pretending I can't tell what you're thinking?"

Carey scowls, but he says, "The more people we let in on this, the riskier it gets."

"Sure," PK says. "But that's not the only reason, is it?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"You don't trust him."

"I don't trust anyone."

He says it so casually, so sure of himself that PK wants to throw his mug of hot coffee at Carey's head. "Maybe you should," he finally manages to say, once the helpless feeling of wanting to do something about it and knowing he can't has faded a little.

"I think it's smarter not to."

"Okay, fine," PK says. "I guess it's beside the point what I think about that. But we need allies."

"We have them," Carey says. He finishes his coffee, then stands up. "I'm getting more. We can't tell Hal. Not yet. I'll think about it, okay?"

PK knows a compromise when he hears one. He hates that they're compromising, but he's also pretty sure that if he presses Carey, Carey's going to lose it. Not because he's convinced he knows better - even though he might - but because he really doesn't trust anyone, not even PK's own mentor.

"Okay," PK says. "Get your coffee," he adds when Carey doesn't move. "It's fine. Honestly."

Carey looks at him. PK looks back and manages not to shiver or do anything too obvious; he can feel the bruises on his thighs, though, when he shifts a little.

Whatever Carey sees, he doesn't let on. He just leaves for the kitchen, and doesn't come back.

Some time apart is probably the best thing they could have right now. PK doesn't feel comfortable leaving without backup, and isn't really interested in confirming with Carey about whether that's a reasonable worry on his part. So he stays in the apartment, but he holes up in Carey's study, far away from Carey.

He doesn't want to review the case or study the duplicate of Martin's key, so instead he pulls out a book. Carey has a surprising number of them, mostly on magical history, but a few fiction books. PK chooses an old Muggle thriller and sits down to read.

Muggle books are like reading in a language PK only half remembers. There are so many references to things he doesn't know about that he constantly has to pause to try and sum up what's happened. It's maybe not the relaxing time away from the case that PK really needs, but it's better than nothing. And besides, the book is comforting, in its own way.

PK reads until the afternoon. He'd read longer, really, except around one his stomach starts growling. When he goes out to the kitchen, it's to see Carey presiding over a stir fry with a dour look on his face.

He thinks, for a second, about sliding up behind Carey and putting his arms around Carey's waist. But they're friends who are hooking up, so he nixes the idea in favor of sitting at the table and saying, "We don't need to tell Hal."

"Are we still fighting about this?"

"We were never fighting," PK says, "not really. But we don't need to tell him."

"Sure," Carey says.

PK frowns. "I'm serious."

Carey dumps the stir fry onto two plates, then waves one over to PK. PK snags it from the air. "Carey -"

"I know you're serious," Carey says. "And I know I was a dick. There are going to be days like this. Especially since we're up against the Aurors, not just some Dark wizards who think they're better than they are."

"Okay," PK says. Carey's sitting down, but he still looks kind of angry. So PK thinks for a second before saying, "We meet up with Caro tomorrow. And Melissa."

Carey nods jerkily.

"So until then, let's just shelve it," PK says. "It's been almost a month. We've earned a day."

Carey looks up at him in surprise. PK makes himself stare back, as honestly as he knows how. "You know I'm right."

"You are," Carey says. He sounds rueful. "Okay, fine. A day. What do you want to do?"

Chapter 5

They end up going to get poutine for lunch. Carey grumbles about it in that cranky way he has, pointing out to PK that it's not like they need to eat more fatty food. PK just rolls his eyes and says, "Go with it, Carey, it could be worse."

"I don't see how," Carey says, but he follows PK into the restaurant.

"I used to go to this poutine place with my dad," PK says as they sit down. They've both charmed their wands not to be visible, since this is a Muggle place, but PK has a lot of practice talking about his childhood in ways that won't make Muggles suspicious. "It was Toronto, so it wasn't a thing like it is here, but it was still so good."

Carey's mouth twists on a half-smile. "So you're doing with me what you did with your dad?"

"You make it sound bad," PK says. "It's, you know, an honor."

"Sure," Carey says. "That's believable."

"Hey."

"I'm kidding," Carey says. "Relax."

PK can't help but frown a little, unsure of where Carey's going with all this. But finally he says, "Anyway, I was just craving poutine."

"And we're taking a day off."

Carey says it like he's reminding himself, which PK guesses he really might be. "Right," PK says. "A day off."

Silence falls heavily between them.

PK's gotten the vibe, in the past, that talking about Carey's past was somehow verboten. But he can't think of anything to say, and Carey's just kind of staring at the table like it's committed a crime, so PK finds himself saying, "How'd you get into being an Auror?"

Carey looks surprised, but PK isn't going to let himself be embarrassed. That's the kind of basic thing you should know about your partner, anyway, long before you end up working with him regularly.

"My mom," Carey says finally.

PK waits, but Carey doesn't say anything else. If PK thinks about it too hard, he'll get sad about how much Carey's trained himself not to trust people, even his own partners - so he doesn't think about it. Instead, he says, "Cool. Oh, look, it's our food."

"Hooray," Carey says dryly.

PK makes a face at him, but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he digs into his poutine.

Their silence, he thinks, could probably even be called companionable. Carey doesn't seem to mind it, anyway. They eat and drink and just kind of hang out, and PK's mind finally starts drifting away from Auror business as he gets to the bottom of his plate. He takes a sip of wine and says, "We should go skating."

Carey blinks. "Skating?"

"Sure. That thing we do, on ice?"

"I know what skating is."

"There are tons of places," PK says. "We could just pick one. Come on, you know you want to."

He doesn't miss how hesitant Carey looks. That makes it better when Carey says, "If you want to, I guess, sure."

"Awesome," PK says. "This will be great."

"If you say so."

They pay and then leave, ducking into an alley so PK can cast a locator spell. There's a Wizarding rink just a few blocks away, so they Apparate there.

Everyone else has their own skates. PK's are at home, though, and he doesn't want to go back to his own home right now - even if he didn't think going home would break the little spell he and Carey have going on right now.

So they rent skates. Carey laughs at PK when PK stumbles out of the gate. PK says, "Hey, it's been awhile."

"Obviously," Carey says, skating backwards.

His smile is wide and PK wants to see more of it. The feeling cuts at him keenly.

"Oh, it's on," he says, and skates past Carey, laughing.

They goof off for a couple hours. Being Canadian, they could've spent way longer than that on the ice, but after awhile they get sweaty and gross and tired of playfully duelling. Well, that's what PK tells himself, anyway. The truth is more that when they collapse to the ice in a heap, after PK's bat-booger hex goes wild, Carey rolls away from him and says, "We should go. We're meeting Caro in less than a day, I want to have plenty of sleep for that."

PK's kind of disappointed, and also he's not sure what Carey means, since it's not even four. But he gets up and follows Carey off the ice.

"Where to now?" he says as they walk out into the light. Since it's the end of summer, it's still plenty light enough.

Carey squints against the setting sun and says, "Why don't we go back to my place?"

"Sure," PK says. "Sure you'll be able to not think about it? We have an agreement."

"I know," Carey says. "And - yes."

"Okay," PK says. He's definitely not going to argue. "Let's go, then."

He realizes he's missed something when they appear in Carey's apartment and Carey kisses him while PK's ears are still echoing with the crack of Apparation.

"Whoa," he says when Carey pulls away.

Carey scowls.

"Good whoa," PK says. "I...you know, never mind." Gift horses and mouths, he reminds himself, and grabs Carey to kiss him again.

They fuck in the living room, Carey riding PK on the couch. PK clings to Carey's thighs and kisses him through it, trying to forget that the key is concealed here, and that Carey doesn't want to know that.

He doesn't quite succeed, though. When they're cleaned up and flipping through takeout options together, Carey says, "I didn't realize you were this bad at keeping secrets."

"Hey."

"Don't tell me," Carey says. "I really, really don't want to know. But you should know that I suspect. If things go south."

"Carey." PK turns to him. Carey licks his lips, which - PK's not sure if he's being distracting on purpose. Probably. "Stop worrying," PK says, forcing his mind back to G-rated things. "You're so bad at this."

"I'm great at plenty of things."

"Not at relaxing, apparently."

Carey scowls. PK is mildly alarmed by how cute he finds it.

"We should get Chinese," he says, turning away before he initiates another round of marathon sex. Not that that wouldn't be great, but he really is hungry.

"Fine by me," Carey says.

They order in and then watch Muggle TV. Carey likes dumb comedy, way more than PK would've thought. He laughs at all the bits that are supposed to be funny and throws PK grins when PK laughs with him.

It's nice. PK tries not to think about how this kind of comfort has an expiration date, and jostles Carey when he cracks lame jokes.

They clear up the Chinese and their beer bottles, PK floating the bulk of the mess out to the kitchen. He directs it into the trash, then looks up as Carey enters, carrying the leftovers.

"I'll put these in the fridge," Carey says.

PK nods. "Yeah, okay." He stands there, hyper-aware of how awkward things are, as Carey follows through on his statement.

Then it's just him and Carey, blinking at each other in the light of the kitchen. PK wants to reach out and touch Carey, kind of desperately, but he doesn't know if he's allowed to. Not without Carey protesting, anyway.

"So," PK says finally, when the silence gets unbearable. "We should go to bed, eh?"

"We should," Carey says.

There's a strong sense of inevitability when Carey steps forward and kisses PK. Or at least, that's how PK feels, because he could step back, but he doesn't. He could say 'stop,' but he doesn't. What he does do is kiss Carey back, curling one hand around the back of Carey's neck to hold him close.

"Come to bed," he says when Carey pulls away. He means it to sound casual, like it doesn't matter to him what Carey does, but he can tell by the flicker of Carey's eyelids and the way his hand on PK's arm tenses that it's anything but.

He could recover in any number of ways. He chooses to repeat himself, saying, "Come to bed." He doesn't even care how stupid he might sound.

"Yeah," Carey says, voice ragged. "Yeah, okay."

They go down the hall together. PK's never stopped mid-transit to kiss before, has never felt urgent enough to derail his walking for it. But he does it now, stopping twice to crowd Carey against the wall and kiss him. Carey's weirdly pliant, into it but letting PK direct things. PK's finding that he likes it, that he wants more of Carey. He wants to draw him out and make this matter, in a way it hasn't before.

Carey fucks him that night, PK spread out on the sheets and gripping a bit of the wall they turned into a headboard for the occasion. Carey touches him everywhere, big, calloused hands pressing into PK's skin and making him gasp and moan. PK tries to be free with the noises, knowing that will make Carey relax, and it works. After, Carey collapses on top of him and kisses his neck, his shoulders, curling around him protectively.

They fall asleep dirty like that, but when PK wakes up in the morning, he's clean. Carey must've pulled the early riser card, he thinks as he gets up. Thank Merlin for cleaning spells.

He goes out into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his stomach. There's a plate of eggs on the table, under a warming spell, but Carey's nowhere to be seen.

"Finite incantatem," PK says, pointing at the eggs with his wand. The spell dies, and he sits down to eat his meal.

He's not going to think about how things are with Carey; he knows that's a quick road to nowhere. Instead, he's going to eat his breakfast and focus on what they're going to report to Caro and Melissa that night.

When he goes back out to the living room after getting dressed, he casts a few spells to make sure he's alone and unobserved. It's mostly a formality, but he's still kind of surprised by the ease with which he casts them. Apparently, all the practice he got in the suburbs really matters.

The key is in a pocket behind a bookcase. PK draws it out and stares at it. There are any number of tracing spells he can cast, spells to reveal what elements cling to it from its previous environment, spells to get the image of the lock it was cast against. All of those are things he's probably going to do, because Martin is apparently a lot better at keeping things locked down than they'd previously thought. None of it is what he wants to do; he wants to apprehend Martin and demand to know what he's doing with Mortimer. But he's not stupid enough to think his and Carey's word against Martin's, plus who knows who else's in the department, would go over with the Canadian Royal Aurors.

The key is just as plain and boring as it was before. It's a little heavy, but not heavy enough to suggest any funny business. PK turns it over in his hand, sighing, before pocketing it. It's best if he carries it now, so that Carey doesn't see him getting it from the hiding place when they go to meet Caro.

Carey doesn't get back until almost three. He's not carrying anything, which PK's sort of weirdly grateful for; it means he doesn't feel the need to hide that he went out to get away from PK. "Hi," PK says.

His hand goes to his pocket before he thinks about it. Carey's eyes flick down, then back up at PK's face. "I hope you've bound it to you."

"Of course I have," PK says. "Anyway, if you're kidnapped and tortured between now and when we meet up with Caro, the game's up."

"How comforting."

"Sure," PK says. "I was going to make burritos for dinner. You want some?"

They end up eating gigantic burritos together, mostly composed of beans and meat because PK's predictable and kind of a lazy cook. Even if he's allowed to do all of it with magic now, which of course he wasn't when he was a teenager and it was his night to make dinner.

"How was your day?" PK says when the silence gets to be a bit much.

Carey blinks at him like he's spoken Spanish. "What?"

"How," PK says, licking a bit of salsa off his finger, "was your day?"

Carey's eyes flick down to PK's fingers, then back up to his face. "Fine," he says. "I just needed a breather, you know?"

"We do have to meet an old, cranky vampire tonight," PK says. "And explain to her how far we haven't gotten."

"Exactly."

Plus we keep sleeping together, PK doesn't say. He doesn't know if Caro will be able to pick up on that, and he doesn't really want to know. He'll deal with that if it actually happens.

"Should we dress up?" he says when Carey keeps staring at him.

"No," Carey says. "Well, we should wear robes." He shrugs. "Caro likes intimidating people, but she's not one to stand on ceremony."

PK nods. "Well, I'm done." He stands up and waves his wand, watching as his plate floats over to the sink. "Maybe she'll have advice about where to look for whatever that key fits into," he adds, and goes back to the guest room.

They Apparate together, right before ten, to the same bar. It's easy to find Caro this time; she's in the same spot as before, talking to a dazed-looking Muggle who PK is pretty sure is under thrall.

He really shouldn't approve, and he doesn't. But he's still grateful for her help.

"Melissa is at your safehouse," Caro says without preamble. "Do you need her?"

PK hesitates long enough that it's Carey who says, "She'd be of great help."

"Very well, then," Caro says. She snaps her fingers -

And they're standing in the safe house. PK can't help but gape.

Caro smirks a little. "We vampires have a few tricks of our own," she says. "Come. She should be in the living room."

Sure enough, Melissa is curled up in a large armchair. She's wearing loose pyjama pants and a light t-shirt, and PK can't help but think that she looks a lot more comfortable living with an old, possibly murderous vampire than PK himself ever could.

Then again, she's also sleeping with that old, possibly murderous vampire. PK can't pretend, even to himself, that he gets it.

"What have you accomplished?" Caro says.

That's kind of a weird way of putting it, PK thinks. But he says, "Well, we searched the offices."

"And found?"

"Who says we found anything?" Carey says before PK can respond.

Melissa looks amused. "Caro will know if you lie."

"We found this." PK pulls the key out. There's no point in playing power games; PK and Carey need their help.

"Ah," Melissa says. She takes out her wand and taps the key. It glows a coppery red. "Soaked in magic," she says. "Where did you find it?"

"An Eternity Pocket," PK says, "in Martin's office."

"You found an Eternity Pocket while doing a basic search?" Caro says.

"PK thought it would be smart." Carey sounds almost amused, though PK's not sure why. "And we are Aurors, Caro."

"I'm well aware," Caro says dryly. "Very well: a key in an Eternity Pocket. I'd wager my infinite years that it's meant to open something important. The question is, how do we find it?"

She addressed the question to Melissa, not PK and Carey. PK's vaguely offended, but Melissa doesn't appear to notice. "Good question," she says. "The answer is...complex."

"Oh?"

"It's not easy magic," Melissa says. "You can, of course, force a wand to show what spells it's cast - quite easily, in fact. There's hardly any magic that can disguise that. But an object only carries impressions. The more magical an object is, the more impressions it carries. But I imagine Martin knows this."

Most of that, PK knew from his Auror classes. He knows Melissa's expertise is probably a lot more than she's letting on, though. "So," he says. "How do we - I mean, what should we do?"

"Well, first we should see if we can get any useful impressions," Melissa says. She sets the key down on the coffee table. "There's no reason we can't at least try."

"And if Martin's booby-trapped it?" Carey says.

Melissa shoots him an acerbic look that doesn't match her relaxed posture at all. "You think that wouldn't have occurred to me?"

It's a good point. "Right," PK says. "Let's do it, then."

"Parādīties," Melissa says. PK's not sure what language she's speaking, even, but it doesn't matter; an image appears above the key, which starts glowing.

But it's just a dark hole with some red sparks darting through it. PK's pretty sure that's the Eternity Pocket. "That's it?"

"Of course not," Melissa says.

"Hush," Caro adds.

PK thinks he sees Melissa blush. But she just says, "Cofio."

Now the image is of a door. It's large, old, and heavy, set into what is, at the very least, a large hill. As they watch, a wolf slinks by. A hooded figure shuffles into view, and then sticks the key into the lock. The image goes dark, and the key stops glowing.

"Wolves," PK says. "Something tells me Martin hasn't been staying in Montreal."

"There are many places in Quebec with wolves," Caro says. "And places elsewhere with wolves, for that matter. What do your Aurors say about interprovincial crime?"

"It's difficult to track down," Carey says. "But it doesn't happen often. The Canadian Royal Aurors have layer upon layer of spell to prevent, say, Apparation between provinces, without appropriate border checks."

That, PK knows, is different from how Muggles do it. But then, Muggles don't have to worry about instantaneously crossing the country to get away from a crime you've just committed. The wizarding world tends to be smaller by necessity. "I've documented a few crimes that happened here and in Ontario," PK says. "It's difficult, because the Ontario Aurors do things differently, even leaving aside the language thing. But it's possible."

"For now, we will say he stayed in Quebec," Caro says. "If we must widen our search, then we must, but hopefully there is more to be done with this key." She looks at Melissa.

Melissa nods, but she doesn't look at all confident. "I can run some tests," she says. "I can try to turn it into a locator charm. But I'll need a few days."

The last thing PK wants is to leave the key with Melissa. He barely feels safe with himself being the one to guard it, much less someone else.

But Caro is looking at them expectantly, and PK gets the feeling Caro's not used to being denied. So he says, "Of course," and hopes he hasn't made a mistake.

"PK's the keeper of the key," Carey says. "Informally, of course."

Caro inclines her head. "We will keep it safe."

At least a promise from a vampire holds the weight of what PK suspects is a terrifying amount of magic. "Good to know," he says. "I guess we're done here, then."

Caro sniffs. "I hope you don't think that badly of my hospitality."

That's how they find themselves drinking tea and eating croissants at 11 PM. PK feels awkward doing it, but Caro is solicitous in an imperious way, and Melissa tears herself away from the key long enough to drink some tea with them. Finally, at just after midnight, Caro says, "You may Apparate directly from this apartment, if you choose."

"No, we can't," Carey says.

She raises her eyebrows. "Do you think I can't hold back your protective enchantments for a minute or two?"

PK almost laughs at the offended look on Carey's face. "Let's go," he says, putting a hand on Carey's arm.

He feels Carey stiffen, but it's not visible. Still, he pulls his hand away before Apparating.

He expects Carey to go directly to bed; they have work in the morning. But PK's barely made it into the hallway when Carey's coming after him, grabbing him, and kissing him.

His hand is hard on PK's arm, but the actual kiss is gentle, and when PK kisses back, Carey's hand loosens. They end up fucking in Carey's bed, Carey pressing into PK with his eyes closed. PK loves it, just like he loves most sex, but something about the way Carey feels makes him press for more, harder. Anything to keep that feeling for as long as they're doing this.

They wake up early the next morning and go into work. PK is put on filing duty; Carey has to go make sure wizards aren't breaking the law at the only wizarding park in the city. When Carey gets his assignment, PK's briefly worried he'll break something; but he only crumples up the parchment and says, "I'll see you later," to PK.

"Sure," PK says. He leaves, too, going into the records room.

It's not comforting anymore. His mind is full of the stuff they have to do to get Martin. They won't hear back from Melissa until at least mid-week, he's guessing, and he feels like there should be something they can do in the meantime. But of course, to his knowledge, there's not.

He works all day in the records room. When he Apparates back to Carey's, Carey is already there, glaring at the far wall of the living room.

"Park duty not fun, eh?"

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"I kind of knew it wasn't," PK says. "That was more, I mean - we can talk about it, if you want."

Carey pauses, appearing to think it over, before shrugging. "Nothing much to talk about," he says. "I'm used to chasing killers, not telling wizards they can't streak through the park."

PK does his best not to laugh. A sort of snort does escape, though. "I'm sorry."

Carey nods his acknowledgement. "It could be worse, I suppose."

"It can always be worse," PK says. "At least Martin doesn't suspect anything?"

"That we know of. He might not be letting on."

That's a sobering thought. PK lets it sit in his head, then shakes his head. "We'd know, I'm sure of it."

Carey looks less than sure, but he doesn't say anything. PK gets to the business of making dinner.

The next few days are basically low-grade torture. PK wouldn't have thought that going back to the records room would be this painful. It's still difficult and challenging work, but compared to working a beat with Carey, taking on cases ranging between a week and several months of work, this is nothing. He thought he loved his job before, but now, he's really not sure.

It's complicated, of course, by his knowledge of Martin's conspiracy. The last thing he wants is to let Martin go, when he's busy siphoning magic, running illegal deals, and being just generally incredibly shady. There's the matter of Mortimer, too, and his vampire-magic spells. PK never anticipated, never came even close to thinking, that he'd be caught in something like this. And now it's all he can do to stay focused and not give it all away.

Part of him wonders if this is how Carey spends his life, but he dismisses that pretty quickly. Carey likes being undercover, and anyway, when he's undercover he's doing more important things than preventing people from putting hexes on the ducks at Parc Delorme.

Finally, though, on Thursday night, they get a message from Melissa. "She's cracked it," PK says. "But, um, she says we should come over tomorrow night."

Carey looks grim. "It's not good news, then."

"You don't think?"

"No," Carey says. "There's no way. If it was simple, she'd have sent us a location."

PK can only pray it's not out of Quebec. That will require more subterfuge than PK thinks he's capable of; they can't just cross the border without Martin getting wind of it. Especially since PK has no idea if the Royal Aurors who monitor province borders are in Martin's pocket.

"This whole thing is kind of terrifying," he says finally.

Carey smirks. "You running scared?"

PK stabs his fork of lo mein noodles at Carey. "Not unless you are."

"Not likely."

"Then, no." PK takes another bite, stabbing one of his shrimp with maybe a little more force than is strictly necessary.

"Good," Carey says. Then, quieter, he adds, "I'm glad."

PK smiles a little. "Yeah, you'd better be."

They both stay up late that night, too keyed up to go to bed right away. PK spends a nightmarish Friday putting together evidence for Plekanec's case, a love potion embezzlement ring. The work itself is tedious, and Plekanec has been expecting miracles all week, so PK's feeling pretty frazzled by the time they go to Carey's safe house.

Caro greets them at the door. "Come in," she says.

PK's pretty sure he's not imagining the irony in her voice. She must enjoy being able to invite people in, being a vampire and all.

"Well?" Carey says when they're assembled in the kitchen. Melissa is sitting at the table, mug of tea in hand, with the key in front of her. She looks like she hasn't slept in days. PK doesn't sit down, nervous enough that he wants to stand; Carey doesn't either.

"I have good news and bad news," Melissa says.

"And clichés," Carey says. "Just tell us."

"I turned the key into a locator spell," Melissa says, "and followed it to its location. That's the good news."

"The bad news?" PK says.

Melissa grimaces. "The door itself is keyed to Martin. There are spells layers thick - all I could do is detect them. There's no way I can dismantle them, and they're guarded by some nasty curses."

"That's where we come in," Carey says. "So where's this door?"

"In the side of a mountain in Parc national du Mont-Tremblant," Melissa says.

PK blinks.

"Northwest of Montreal," Melissa adds. "Quite close, actually." She pushes the key towards them. "If you key your Apparation to this, it'll take you there."

She swallows and opens her mouth like she's going to say something else, but then closes her mouth again. PK's willing to let it rest, hyper-conscious of everything she's been through; but Carey says, "What?"

"The magic in that key is Dark," Melissa says. "Medieval conceptions of Dark magic aside, it was ugly and unpleasant. Most wizards here, even more than in the States, are likely to tread a line; there's not the...reactionary element to different kinds of magic that there is down there. But this? No one would argue that this is something no wizard should be doing. Much like the spells Mortimer used."

PK remembers the object she gave them - it's kept safe by Carey, and he's not too eager for the details. "We're Aurors," he says. "Canada might not be medieval about Dark magic, but sometimes we have to be."

"Just be careful," Melissa says.

"We will be," PK says. "I guess I should say thank you?"

He phrases it as a question, but Melissa smiles a little. "You're welcome."

"You should leave," Caro says. "Go there over the weekend. See if you can take the spells apart. It won't be easy."

"I suppose you can't just magic them apart?" Carey says, sounding bored.

"No," Caro says. "Some wizard magic is beyond my abilities." She looks like she could spit over it.

PK makes an educated guess. "You mean you can't tear it apart without destroying whatever's behind that door."

"Indeed."

"We'll do it," Carey says. He steps forward and takes the key. "I can't thank you enough."

He sounds kind of robotic, PK thinks, but Caro is apparently willing to work with it. "You'll return the debt by ending this."

"We will," Carey says grimly.

PK makes their polite goodbyes. Carey stays silent until they're back, when he closes his hand around the key and says, "Two days."

"I'll refresh my knowledge of curse-breaking," PK says.

Carey grits his teeth, jaw clenched. "Whatever we find, it might be ugly."

"Sure," PK says. "I know."

"Do you?"

"I'm a paper-pusher." PK shrugs. "I don't pretend to be anything else. But if you think I don't remember what they taught us in Auror training, if you think I don't know what we might run into..."

He knows it's a good point, so he's not surprised when Carey nods and holds the key out. "Take it. Again. Hide it from me."

"Subterfuge," PK says, and takes it. "You'd better go to bed, then."

Carey goes. PK hides the key in a look-away enchantment, behind a bookshelf, and follows.

He's more than a little surprised when Carey puts an arm around his waist. There was no indication, as far as PK can tell - but Carey's lips are brushing the back of PK's neck in a not-quite-kiss and he's pulling PK close. PK could protest, but he doesn't really see the point of it. Carey's...he likes Carey. A lot.

They survive the rest of the week. PK's not sure how, since he's ready to explode at Plekanec and tell him to do his own research, ill-advised though he knows that would be; but however they do it, they do survive. When the weekend comes, PK dresses for what he assumes will be a hike, in nondescript Muggle clothes. When Carey emerges from his room, he's wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and cowboy boots.

He looks like he's in his element, and he looks good. PK swallows hard and tries to ignore it. "Ready to go?"

"Activate the key," Carey says.

PK's well aware that the curses they're about to encounter could very well kill them. He's not sure what to say, so he settles for, "Good looking out, eh?"

"We're coming back from this," Carey says sharply.

The wrong thing to say, then. "I know," PK says. "I was trying to lighten the mood."

Carey looks, if PK's being honest with himself, kind of sour. But he just says, "Sure. Ready?"

"Ready," PK says, and takes the key out of his pocket. He taps it with his wand; Carey follows suit. PK takes hold of the key and Apparates.

To his relief, Carey appears next to him a second later. PK doesn't even notice where they're standing until Carey's there - but once he does, it's kind of hard to ignore.

The woods are more than just generic woods. They're lush and beautiful, almost untouched. PK catches the darting movement of a small animal out of the corner of his eye. There's birdsong and a brook babbling in the distance. It's beautiful.

Or, at least, it would be. The heavily wrought door that all but stinks of Dark magic, standing ten feet away from them, kind of ruins it.

PK pockets the key and pulls out his wand. "Ready?"

Carey smirks, and PK realizes he just parroted Carey himself. "Ready," Carey says.

"Shut up," PK can't help but say.

It means a lot of things in this context. Most notably, it means, we'll get through this. Carey appears to agree, because he nods and says, "Revelare."

Spells glow with light, racing along the door. They're remarkably close-knit to the wood and iron that makes up the door; normally, protective spells would extend at least a few feet from the object in question. But really, it was probably ridiculous to expect this to be easy.

Accordingly, PK reaches out and tries a relaxation spell. They're primarily used by wizarding masseuses, but PK's found they sometimes work for protective spells.

A layer of spells - a crooked-legs hex, if PK's going to get into guessing - melts away from the mass.

"Well done," Carey says quietly. He casts an unraveling spell.

And so they go, for hours, casting various spells meant to gently peel away the layers of curses and impediments. PK gets tired after awhile, but Carey's showing no signs of flagging, so it's not like PK's going to give in. When the sun starts setting, Carey pulls out some fry-bread and passes it over to PK. PK can tell the second he bites into it that it's been magically fortified; he eats a piece and feels like he's had a massive dinner. It gives him the energy to cast a counter-hex against the complicated soul-tainting Forgetting curse wound around the door.

It's just becoming dusk when they finish. "Two days," Carey says, sinking to his knees on the forest floor. "Take that, Caro."

PK snorts and leans down, bracing his palms on his knees. "Yeah, how stupid of her."

"We got it done," Carey says. "Quickly, even."

"And now there's no way we can go inside. We're both too tired."

Carey makes a show of looking around. "Do you have enough left to Apparate back?"

PK snorts. "I'm not making a lean-to with you. I'm sure you'd be good at it, but I like sleeping in beds."

"City boy," Carey says with a sly smile.

PK wants to kiss him. He puts it out of his mind. "You know it." He straightens, then says, "Revertetur."

It takes enough effort that it feels kind of like being punched in the gut; this is a trick spell he never tried except during training. But sure enough, a haze of spells pops up, looking exactly like the spells they just spent the entire day dismantling.

Carey whistles. "Nice."

"I'm ready to collapse," PK says, "so let's go." He Apparates back to Carey's.

Carey follows, but the first words out of his mouth are, "Where'd you learn that?"

"Training."

Carey shakes his head. "We never learned that in training."

"I sort of extrapolated it a bit," PK says.

"Oh?"

PK shrugs. "Adaptability is important, right?" And that was before he realized he was bound for a desk job.

"It's not the worst thing," Carey says. He claps PK on the shoulder. "I'm going to bed. See you later." He walks past PK, down the hall.

PK stands on his own for a minute, feeling stupid. Apparently they're not going to fuck tonight. Not, he reminds himself, that it really matters; they're just doing that casually. They have more important things to worry about.

He goes back after a minute, and ends up jockeying with Carey for sink space as they brush their teeth. He's not really surprised when he lies down and Carey curls around him, head tucked into PK's shoulder.

It's too warm, of course; they'll split apart in their sleep, most likely. But PK falls asleep with a warm, content feeling that's becoming incredibly familiar.

They eat breakfast together the next day. Then PK says, "Ready?"

"We'll need to Apparate a little east," Carey says. "In case Martin is there."

PK's not so sure. "If Martin's there, the game is up anyway."

"Let's Apparate a little east," Carey says.

PK sighs, but he humors Carey. Carey keys in their location and they Apparate together.

Martin isn't there. PK takes the spells down without incident, and then they unlock the door and enter.

PK's half expecting another layer of protective spells, but apparently Martin was confident in the ability of the ones outside to keep invaders away. They step into a musty room, about ten feet in each direction, lined with shelves. There are no windows, so PK says, "Lumos," as Carey closes the door.

The light casts an eerie glow on misshapen, ugly containers lining the shelves. There are only about eight of them, and PK can't detect any pattern that they're arranged in.

So he says, "Revelare."

Nothing happens.

"Guess that's it," Carey says.

PK nods, then realizes it's probably too dim for Carey to see him. "Yeah."

"Which one do you want to look in first?"

PK points to the leftmost container, a lumpy clay pot. "Might as well take it in order, eh?"

They open the pot up; it's empty. That pattern continues until they get to the rightmost container, a stone box which contains...

PK recoils. He can feel the Dark magic seeping off the object. Auror training's made him more sensitive, but he's pretty sure any normal wizard could feel it too. "That's -"

"A Horcrux," Carey says grimly.

PK's torn between being disgusted and being relieved. "He went through all this trouble to hide a Horcrux?"

Carey covers the top of the stone box. "No. There's no way. He has an Eternity Pocket, or something."

"I should've known it wouldn't be this easy."

Carey snorts. "You probably should've," he agrees.

"You were expecting it?"

"I expect everything."

That, PK thinks, is probably pretty fair.

"Okay," he says. "Well, let's get to work."

Two hours later, they've determined there are no Eternity Pockets or trapdoors. There's nothing, as far as PK can tell, which leaves one option.

"Let's dig," PK says.

Carey frowns.

"What, you think I'm wrong?"

"No amount of spells will be able to hide that we've been here," Carey says.

"We're going to leave the Horcrux," PK says. "But we need to figure out what he's hiding."

"Right," Carey says, and waves his wand.

It turns out not to be a big deal: the dirt scatters and reveals a trap door.

"Oh," PK breathes.

"Come on," Carey says, and yanks it up.

PK's the first to climb down. He's not sure what he's expecting, but when his feet touch the floor, torches light up. Not only that, but the floor itself is stone, and the room has columns and one large, heavy chest. It looks like Martin wasn't expecting anyone to find this.

And if upstairs was his hiding place for a Horcrux, PK is honestly kind of scared of what's down here.

"Victoria's teeth," Carey breathes when he turns around. He reaches out and grabs PK's arm. "We -"

"Need to open that chest," PK says. "Let's worry about covering our tracks later."

He thinks it's a good point - and they did set up alarms so they can be sure to Apparate before Martin discovers them. But Carey doesn't exactly look comfortable, and he's still grabbing PK's arm.

So PK shakes it lightly and says, "Carey," with more urgency.

Carey shakes himself. "What? I - yeah, okay." He grimaces. "I'm here."

"The chest?"

"I hate this place," Carey mutters. He says more loudly, "Let's get to it."

They cast a half dozen spells, but the chest is also unprotected by magic. Finally, PK lifts it.

There's an assortment of objects, but none of them radiates the evil that the Horcrux upstairs did. But PK understands why Martin hid them so thoroughly when he sees the inlaid document holder in the chest. He pulls out a sheet of parchment and says, "I think we found it."

Carey nods, eyes immediately fixated on the parchment. PK closes the chest and lays the parchment out on top of it, and together, they read.

The information is cryptic; the document's magical, and is being used for communication, much like the one they had while undercover. But the meaning is clear. Martin knows that they found out about his involvement while undercover, and plans to send them out on a death mission starting Monday.

And a wizard is coming from the States to Polyjuice and Imperius his way into the director's position in Quebec City.

"I know him," Carey says.

"Who?"

Carey taps the parchment. "Shane Doan. We're cousins. He disappeared a few years ago."

"Apparently he didn't," PK says. "He's Apparating from Phoenix in a week."

"And Martin wants to kill us."

Carey says it like they shouldn't be panicking, which is remarkable, because PK - PK's definitely panicking. Even though a small part of him points out that if Martin is putting his plans here, then he doesn't know they've been snooping around his office.

"You obviously have a plan," PK says. "What do you think we should do?"

Carey shrugs. "It seems obvious to me."

"...does it?" PK says.

"Yes." Carey looks so calm it almost hurts PK to look at him. "We're going to Quebec City, and Caro's going to work us some magic so Martin thinks we've been taken."

For a second, all PK can do is stare at Carey. It sounds so crazy that it takes him a long time to just parse what Carey's saying. When he manages it, he says, "Oh, God. You're serious, aren't you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"That's insane."

Carey shrugs. "Do you have a better idea?"

PK really doesn't, but he's processing the disaster. Unlike Carey, who seems fine with his pronouncement, like he's looking forward to faking his own death and going on the run.

PK shoves aside his suspicion that Carey's going to collapse once they're not-really-kidnapped. He can deal with that later. For now, he says, "Okay, okay. You're right. So how do we go about doing that?"

"Effingo," Carey says, tapping the parchment. PK's amazed when it duplicates. It won't have the same magic, but the contents are there; Martin really wasn't guarding against anything, this time around.

"Now," Carey says, "we hide our tracks. And then we pay Caro a visit."

They spend almost four hours covering up the mess they've made. The sun's not close to setting yet, but it's the far side of noon by the time they Apparate to the street where Carey's safe house is.

Carey can still get in without any trouble, which is how they end up walking in on Caro pressing Melissa against the kitchen wall and kissing her.

"Oh Merlin, sorry," PK says.

Carey says, at the same time, "Excuse us."

He sounds amused, and, well. It's his house. PK's not going to fake outrage if Carey's fine with it.

"Hi," he says lamely when they separate and look at him and Carey.

Caro looks between them and sighs. "Tell me what you've done now," she says, taking a decisive step away from Melissa.

"We stole something," Carey says.

"Duplicated it," PK says.

"Which is nothing like theft, of course."

Sarcasm is practically dripping from Caro's mouth. He figures there's no sense in putting if off, so PK says, "Martin's planning on killing us."

Caro, to her credit, hides her shock well. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Well, then." She looks them over critically. "I suppose you'll have to disappear."

"There's more." Carey pulls the parchment out of his coat. "A distant cousin of mine is coming to Quebec City from the States. He's going to be taking over the Aurors there."

"Let me guess," Melissa says, sounding considerably more shaken than Caro. "He's a Dark wizard."

"Right in one," Carey says.

"Lovely."

"He's a real bastard," Carey says, "so once you help us fake a kidnapping, we can see about getting him away from Quebec."

"And you're counting on my help?" Caro says.

"It would make life easier," Carey says. "Plus, you love Quebec, and we both know it."

Caro presses her lips together. "If I do this -"

"We'll stay hidden," Carey says. "For as long as it takes."

"Very well," Caro says, and pulls a knife out of a hidden pocket of her pants.

PK jumps.

She slants him an amused look. "Not what you were expecting?"

"Not...really," PK says lamely.

"Hold out your hand," she says. "You're lucky I'm so old. Homunculi are no young vampire's purview."

PK holds out his hand, trying not to think about it. Caro slices it neatly, and when the blood begins to fall to the floor, hisses and starts speaking in a language PK doesn't recognize.

It only takes a moment. Caro's licking her finger and touching it to the cut almost before PK can think. As his hand closes up, he stares down at the perfect replica of his own body, sitting on the floor.

"Will that fool an Auror?" Carey says. He manages to sound like he doesn't really care. PK's impressed.

"Of course. What do you take me for?" Caro says. "Now you."

Five minutes later, PK's staring at copies of them. Caro is matter-of-factly kicking and slicing at them, to make it look like they've believably been in a duel. All PK can think is that this suddenly seems incredibly, painfully real.

"Well?" Caro says. "I can take care of the details. You'll be spotted on a corner in Montreal, and then you will be gone. Pack your bags and leave."

"We need a car," Carey says, turning to PK.

PK blinks. "Are we pretending to be Muggles?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

PK really doesn't, so he shrugs and says, "Okay. I'm sure we can obtain one."

Apparently it's the right thing to say. Carey smiles wide and says, "Good thinking."

PK turns to Caro and Melissa. "We'll be in touch."

"Give me an address when you have one," Melissa says. "There's a Muggle phone here. Get cell phones or something."

It chills PK to think that they might not even be able to Floo. But of course, that's not exactly the most secure means of communication in the world. "Will do," PK says.

"Thank you," Carey adds quietly. "We're in your debt."

PK's amazed, because Carey doesn't tend to talk like that. He's more amazed when Caro simply says, "Don't thank me. End this."

Carey nods. "Let's go," he says to PK.

They walk down to the street together. "Your place?" PK says.

Carey's mouth twists bitterly. "One last time."

They Apparate there. PK's already mostly packed; he condenses what he absolutely needs down to one bag full of Muggle clothes and a few books that might be useful, all duplicated so it's not obvious they've left. The key goes with him, too, and the parchment. Carey also has a single bag, but he packs more quickly than PK. When PK gets out into the living room, Carey's looking around like he's never seen it before.

"They'll sell everything," Carey says. "Or get rid of it."

PK hesitates. He doesn't really know what to say.

"Let's go," Carey says abruptly, hoisting his bag.

Carey manufactures some Muggle cash and they buy a car at a used dealership. They pick up Muggle cell phones, too. It's not even eleven at night when they get on the road and begin driving away from Montreal.

"Call Caro," Carey says. "I put the number in your phone."

PK feels clumsy, handling the Muggle technology. But Caro picks up on the first ring. "We're leaving," he says.

She says some common Quebec swear words, then some old-sounding, other French ones. "Good," she says, belying her own words. "I'll make sure your bodies get found, then."

"Cool," PK says.

There's a silence long enough that he wonders if Caro has hung up. Then she says, "Did Carey take his things?"

"Um." PK glances over at Carey, but if Carey can hear the conversation, he's not letting on. "No. We each have a bag. We duplicated our stuff."

"Good," Caro says. It's not a good night for her, apparently. "Call when you get to Quebec." She hangs up.

They reach Quebec just after one AM, having taken the Route Transcanadienne to the city. It's not that long a trip by Muggle standards, PK knows, but he's unaccustomed to that kind of travel, except for the few times he's taken the train. He's exhausted when they get out of the car at a hotel in downtown Quebec City.

"I'll check us in," Carey says. "Call Caro."

"We're here," PK says when she picks up, following Carey into the lobby.

"In the city?"

"Carey's getting us rooms now." PK nods as Carey lifts up their room keys. He follows Carey to the elevator, trying not to look like - well, like a wizard faking his own kidnapping.

"Good," Caro says, but she doesn't sound happy. "Lay low for a few days. Don't go anywhere important, much less to the Auror headquarters there. Let me convince everyone you've been taken."

PK respects her directness, he really does. It's just that it's also kind of terrifying, since the context is everyone believing they're dead.

With a sudden, sick wave of self-awareness, he realizes something he hadn't even thought of before. "Oh God, my parents."

"This isn't for forever. They'll be fine for a few months."

Caro sounds callous, but PK appreciates it; it means that when he steps out of the elevator on the fourth floor, he's not panicking. "I just -"

"Carey's parents will believe he's been taken too," Caro says. "It's part of the job. Are you going to try to contact them like an idiot?"

"Of course not."

"Then we don't have a problem. I'll call you when it's done. Expect it in a day or so." Caro hangs up.

Carey lets them into their room. PK sits down heavily on the leftmost bed, staring at the wall. He almost lets go of his phone, he's feeling so distant from everything.

"Hey," Carey says. He kneels in front of PK, his face coming into PK's line of sight. "Come on, PK, don't chicken out on me now."

"I don't think worrying about my parents is chickening out," PK says.

"Maybe not," Carey says. "It's terrible. But we'll get it done, and then we won't have to do this again."

"Will we?" PK says. "Do you really think we can clear corruption out of the Royal Aurors, just like that?"

Carey shrugs. "I think we don't have a choice."

He says it bleakly, and PK thinks he probably means it bleakly too; it's not like it's easy or even reasonable to be feeling optimistic right now. But weirdly enough, it almost makes PK feel more cheerful. They can't do anything about the odds being so stacked against them, so they might as well do the best they can.

So he smiles down at Carey and says, "Guess we'll get to work tomorrow, then." He grabs Carey's wrists and pulls him to his feet, kissing him.

It's the kind of kiss that PK doesn't initiate often, with Carey or anyone else. It's more intimate than he's used to, both more careful, almost gentle, and more - well, difficult.

Carey pushes him back on the bed and straddles him, one hand tight on the side of PK's face. PK would normally enjoy the push and pull more, but he's honestly kind of freaking out, so when Carey tugs his t-shirt up and looks down at PK with dark eyes, PK just looks up at him and doesn't move.

"Do you want this?" Carey says. His voice is hoarse and low.

Part of PK wants to ask Carey what he means. PK's never been one for hidden meaning, but there are layers and layers to everything that Carey says. PK wants to peel those layers back, even though he's more or less sure that he can't, that those parts of Carey are beyond him.

He realizes suddenly that he's taking too long to answer. "Yes," he says.

Carey looks down at him some more. PK thinks he might be doubting it, so he says, "Seriously, yes," and pulls Carey down more firmly on top of him.

They kiss for a long time, PK staying under Carey and Carey touching PK's chest, gripping his side, like PK's going to Apparate away from him. PK can't think of it as lazy making out, not when Carey's holding onto him like this, and not when his own feelings are a storm of Victoria-only-knows-what, making his chest tight and his eyes prickly.

But he's hard, and after awhile it turns into something he desperately needs to deal with. So he pulls away from Carey enough to say, "Let me suck you off."

Carey's flushed a little, like he's embarrassed. But he nods jerkily and rolls to the side, pulling his pants off.

For a minute PK just looks at him. But then Carey snaps, "Well?", with that edge in his voice that means he's going to try to start a fight if PK keeps it up. It's kind of a crazy thing to sound like over PK looking at him, but PK kind of gets it, given the way it feels like a crushing weight is hanging above them. So he settles between Carey's legs and kisses his stomach, his hip, wrapping one hand around the base of Carey's dick and slowly licking up the length.

It's not a fast blowjob, or a messy one. It's slow and careful, and PK keeps his eyes on Carey's face, watching for something he's not even sure he can name. Carey's eyelids flutter and he looks desperate, intense; PK sucks harder at that, plays with Carey's balls and tries his best to communicate that he's here. He's not leaving, he's staying by Carey's side and they're going to get out of this alive.

It's a lot to get through in a blowjob. But when Carey comes, he moans brokenly and pulls PK up to him; as they kiss, PK thinks he might've gotten it.

It doesn't even occur to him that he's turned on until Carey reaches between them and shoves PK's pants down far enough to get his hand in. Then he realizes he's still mostly hard, and 'mostly' becomes 'painfully' as Carey mouths at his neck and jerks him off, rough and hard, exactly how PK likes.

He comes with a gasp, all over Carey's hand and his stomach. Carey arches against him and holds him through it. When he's done, Carey rolls them again, discarding PK's pants entirely and throwing a leg over PK's.

He's expecting them to silently fall asleep, just like he's expecting them to wake up in the morning and be stoic about it all. He's not expecting Carey to say abruptly, "I've never done this before."

"...had sex?" PK ventured, because the opportunity is lying right there, and PK's not made of stone.

"No," Carey says. He sounds cranky; PK can't help but grin to himself. "Of course I've - come on."

"I was just curious."

"Clearly," Carey says. "No, I meant - I've never done this with a partner before."

"Huh," PK says, because sex doesn't exactly make him eloquent.

"I just." Carey shrugs. "It feels weird, I guess. And it's against protocol."

"Because you care about protocol?" PK says, smiling.

"I do," Carey says. But PK can tell the offense he injects into his tone is fake.

"We should sleep," he says finally. "Protocol or not, we're good like this."

"And if it blows up in our faces?"

"We're Aurors," PK says. "We'll deal with it."

He's not sure it's that persuasive, but Carey drops it. After awhile, his breathing slows, and he relaxes against PK.

PK himself is too keyed up to sleep for a long time. He finally manages it a few hours before dawn, which means that when Carey wakes him up relatively early in the morning, he feels like shit.

"Gretzky's balls," Carey says, squinting at him. "You look awful."

"So do you," PK rasps.

"Maybe," Carey says, "but you look like death. How much sleep did you get?"

Carey being so insightful can really be a problem. "Enough," PK says. He yawns and stretches, trying to get his brain to cooperate. "What's our agenda for today?"

"Sitting on our asses, waiting for Caro," Carey says. "Something I'm personally pretty damn tired of."

"She's been good to us," PK says.

"That doesn't mean I have to like the necessity."

"But still," PK says. He thinks about Caro faking their kidnapping, and about his parents, and tries not to feel sick to his stomach. "Anyway," he finally says. "I guess we could have marathon hotel room sex. Although they have servants to clean, so it might be rude."

"Housekeeping," Carey corrects. "And we'll handle that with our own spells. We can put up the 'Do Not Disturb' thing."

"You're the expert."

"Are your domestic spells not up to scratch?" Carey asks with a lopsided smile.

PK affects offense. "My domestic spells are the best you'll ever see."

"I doubt that," Carey says. "But I guess if you think so, that's nice for you."

"You're going down for that," PK says, and grabs Carey, wrestling him to the floor.

They decide, after awhile, that laying low probably doesn't mean they can't go down and get breakfast, or take a walk around the block. Quebec City is nice enough, PK guesses; he's been here before a few times, but mostly only to the wizarding parts. It's going to be weird keeping to the Muggle parts.

When they've killed as much time as possible, it's still only three o'clock in the afternoon. PK plops down on the couch in their hotel room and says, "You're sure about that whole marathon sex thing?"

Carey doesn't even look at him; he's rifling through his bag. "I'm sure."

"Because I could go," PK says. "For hours, if you know what I mean."

Carey doesn't get offended, just rolls his eyes. "Yeah, PK, I know what you mean." He pulls out a long, thin mirror. "We're going to do some spying."

PK whistles. "You just lug an enchanted mirror around?"

"Normally it stays in my apartment," Carey says. "With a ton of security. But that's not really feasible right now."

"I see," PK says.

They settle on the couch together, and Carey taps the mirror with his wand. Smoke swirls in it - kind of dramatically, PK thinks.

"It used to be a theater prop."

"More energy, got it," PK says. Theater is the kind of thing that tends to amplify magic in objects that've been exposed for a long time.

"We're going to use it to spy on Doan right now," Carey says. He focuses on the mirror, expression so intense it's basically a glare. "Show me Shane Doan."

The smoke swirls more and more quickly, then sweeps dramatically to either side, like curtains parting. Theater, PK thinks, biting back a grin. He focuses on the image in the mirror.

At first, it's an empty greatroom in what looks like a wizarding government building from the 1970s or so. But then the mirror pans over a towering stack of rolls of parchment, and PK and Carey both gasp almost-silently.

Someone PK assumes is Shane Doan is standing over an old woman's dead body. As they watch, the woman's looks fade, and she's replaced by the body of an even older-looking man.

"Polyjuice," PK says quietly.

Just in his range of vision, Carey nods.

Doan says something, looking bored, and the body bursts into flames. The flames don't scorch the floor, obviously; in a few minutes, nothing - not even dust - is left of the dead wizard.

Doan smirks and sits down at the desk.

"Thank you," Carey says. The mirror goes day.

"So," PK says. "What was that, exactly?"

"That was Doan incinerating the already-fired head of the Quebec City Aurors," Carey says.

"Well, yeah," PK says. "I know that. But - why?"

"He probably discovered something," Carey says.

"The Polyjuice?"

"Doan wouldn't want anyone to track him entering the building in his own form, not when Doan was planning on killing him."

PK kind of wants to puke. "Well, that's great."

"He's a character."

Carey says it casually, like it's no big deal, but his voice is tight; it's obvious to PK that he's upset. PK doesn't hesitate to put his arm around Carey's shoulder. "We'll get him."

Carey scowls, but he doesn't move away from PK, which is its own kind of tell. "I know," he snaps.

PK doesn't have an answer for that, so he says, "Cool," and keeps his arm around Carey.

They stay like that for awhile, Carey's hands loosely cradling the mirror. There's no real transition period; Carey just abruptly stands up and says, "Let's go get dinner."

"Um," PK says, but he stands up, too.

Carey glares at him, like he's expecting him to say something. "You don't want dinner?"

"Whoa." PK holds his hands up. "Sure, I want dinner."

Carey relaxes immediately, like he was never weird to begin with. "I'm not good at this," he says, focusing on the far wall. "It's personal, and we're about to be legally missing. So I'm bad at this."

"Okay," PK says. "Well, I've never done this before, so."

That gets him a little smile, at least. "I've never been kidnapped either."

"See? We're even." PK goes over to Carey, moving in slowly enough that Carey could easily push him away, and kisses him.

"Dinner, you said," PK says when they pull apart.

Carey blinks a couple of times, licks his lips, and nods. "Let's go."

Neither of them wants to leave the hotel, with their legal status being kind of up in the air, so they sit in the hotel restaurant and eat. They order foie gras because, according to Carey, "This is our last meal as free men, right?"

PK thinks that's kind of macabre, but Carey's not wrong. In a way.

Once they've eaten - and paid with cash - they go back to their room. Before Carey can go to the unused bed, PK grabs his wrist.

Carey goes still, tilting his head and looking at PK.

PK swallows, hoping that what he says next comes out right. "Hey. You want to, you know, together. Right?"

"Are you asking if I want to fuck?" Carey says, sounding amused.

"Sure," PK says. "It's not the daytime anymore."

"Oh, well, in that case."

Carey doesn't sound much different than he normally does, but PK can tell he's teasing. It's kind of a relief, considering their situation. "Yeah, in that case," he says, and steps forward, pulling Carey to him until PK can kiss him.

Carey fucks him, slow and hard, staring down at him the whole time. It's not sweet; it's the opposite of sweet, really. But PK's glad for it because he wants Carey. He always wants Carey.

It's not a realization or anything, but it does keep him up for awhile before he finally manages to fall asleep, curled around Carey.

Caro contacts them midmorning the next day. "It's done," she says.

PK's hand tightens a little around the still-unfamiliar cell phone. "Thanks," he says. "So I guess we should start doing recon, eh?"

"It's not my job to tell Aurors what to do," Caro says.

"But it's safe?"

"It's never safe," Caro says, and hangs up.

PK grimaces. "Well, that was fun."

"She's a bruiser," Carey says. "In all ways but technically hitting people."

"But she's killed people."

"Of course she has," Carey says. "But she doesn't want to get her hands dirty." His expression goes unfocused. "I get it," he says after a long moment.

PK kind of really doesn't want to know what Carey means by that, but somehow he finds himself asking anyway. "Get it how?"

Carey shrugs. "I strangled someone once. It wasn't fun."

There are whole currents, there, of things Carey's not saying. PK wants to spin them out. He wants to see if he can get Carey to talk, for once, honestly, about this stuff.

But then, he wants a lot of things, when the fact remains that they have work to do. "Right," he says.

Carey very obviously thinks there's something wrong. "I had to."

"I know." PK doesn't know how to say it, but he manages to get out, "I'm glad you did, if it meant doing your job."

"It meant saving my life."

"Then I'm more glad."

Carey stares at him, and PK looks back. More and more, he feels like all he can do when Carey looks at him like that is give him honesty, even if he has no idea what it is Carey's looking for.

"We should go," Carey says finally. "Get the lay of the land. We'll start serious recon tomorrow."

They go to the Aurors' office and hang around the outside, look-away charms firmly in place. Since they're legally missing PK's not that worried about someone realizing who they are; there's not a lot of crossover between the two offices, and neither of them was ever that visible with the Quebec Aurors. But he's still relieved when they get all the major entrances and exits mapped, and a good feel of the spells protecting the building, and no one raises an alarm.

"Recon tomorrow," Carey says again when they get back to the hotel.

PK nods. "And tonight?"

Carey looks at him. Really looks at him, looking him up and down and smiling a little.

"Is this your version of hitting on me?" PK says. He means it to sound mocking, like Carey himself might say it, but it comes out breathy.

"Maybe," Carey says. "How do you feel about that?"

"You want to know how I feel?" PK laughs. "Come here."

He doesn't wait for Carey to come to him, though. He takes a step forward and kisses Carey, swaying into it when Carey grabs his arms with surprising - to PK, anyway - force. Carey backs him against the wall and kisses him harder, fingers digging into PK's arms.

They're easy with each other by now, but nothing about this is easy. It feels like it felt a few nights ago, only more final, somehow; PK knows without being told that Carey's going to pull away after this. They have a job to do, something PK doesn't even really need to remind himself of; he knows perfectly well that they're not on vacation. The specter of his family is hanging over his head, and he keeps seeing the homonculi Caro created for them and trying to remember that someday, this will be over and he can go home.

For now he settles on touching Carey, pulling him over to the bed and then pushing him down. He gets Carey's dick in his mouth, gets Carey's hands on his head, and does his best to forget about what they're going to do starting tomorrow, what they're risking.

He doesn't want to be the kid in the office again, someone who graduated from Auror school but isn't any better than a desk job. But he can admit, as Carey methodically takes him apart with his hands and mouth, that he doesn't want to be dead, either. What they're doing is necessary.

Thinking that much has never gone well for him. He's grateful when he comes, because after that, he's overwhelmed with enough exhaustion that he doesn't think about anything, just falls asleep.

He's a lot less relaxed when he wakes up alone.

He doesn't panic, or anything. He checks the bathroom, then downstairs. He spares a second for wishing they'd kept some variation on the curse, so that he could be assured that Carey wasn't that far away. But of course, the curse is gone, and with it PK's hope of knowing where Carey's gone. He tells himself that Carey will be back in his own time, and probably has good reasons for leaving. He goes back up to their room.

He finds the note sitting on top of his suitcase, written on a plain piece of lined Muggle paper. Gone after Doan. Don't follow.

PK stares at the note, and stares at it, and stares at it. He keeps hoping, as he stares at it, that maybe at some point it will make some kind of sense. He also hopes maybe the sudden anger that roared up the second he read it will die. Thus far, neither is happening.

Finally, he sets the note down. He doesn't crumple it or anything, but he does cast a spell on it. But no: the paper throws up the ghostly image of Carey setting it down before going back to the bed and touching the side of PK's face.

The image fades before PK sees Carey leave, which is probably for the best. He grits his teeth and sits down on the couch, heavily.

Right, so Carey's gone. He probably thought he'd be back before now, but that doesn't mean much. PK knows as well as anyone that things can go weird on recon missions, and that doesn't necessarily mean something's wrong. Well, wrong enough to need PK's help, anyway.

Carey is probably fine. Also, PK thinks, he doesn't have to stay here, waiting for Carey to get back. "Don't follow" doesn't mean "don't leave".

And even if it did, PK's not sure he'd listen. Not right now.

So he leaves. He doesn't go directly to the Auror headquarters, but he does go to one of the outposts, on the northern edge of the city. Quebec City has two of these, and three offices in the city in total. It never occurred to PK before to think if that was overkill, if it was a sign of corruption. Now, it's all he can think about.

The outpost is just a little office in the Muggle part of the city. It's brown brick, like any number of anonymous buildings in the city, and sits on a street with some apartment buildings and a red-and-green painted restaurant that looks so small PK feels a little claustrophobic just glancing in the windows. He walks around the perimeter of the building twice, feeling out the spells surrounding it. It's mostly standard protective stuff; there's no sign of Carey, but then, there's also no sign that Dark magic has been used.

It's kind of a wash, overall. Though...it can't hurt, he thinks, to go in and do a little recon on his own.

Getting in is easy enough. He casts a few concealment charms and slips into the service entrance. No one so much as looks at him; security is lax in this little outpost. He debates seeing about finding their archives, but before he's made up his mind, he sees the evidence room.

There's no way he's going to pass that up. He takes a deep breath and casts a quick unlocking spell, magnitudes more powerful than Alohomora, and thus effective in an Auror office. Making sure no one's in the (dreary, institutional) hallway, he grabs the doorknob and slips inside.

The evidence room is, unsurprisingly, charmed to be a lot bigger than the space it takes up in the building. It's probably about a city block deep. That must be the main reason for these outposts, vaguely sinister though that is, considering PK doesn't think Quebec City is actually that high-crime an area.

The room is painstakingly organized, with labels on all the shelves and a directory at the front of the room. It's lit warmly by candles that sprang to life as soon as PK stepped in.

PK skims the directory. There are cursed objects, illegal Potions, and a few scraps of evidence from more serious crimes. The bulk of it is just your standard mildly Dark collection of objects, though. The magic in the room is heavy, but not particularly overbearing.

In other words, there's nothing here.

He doesn't know why he's disappointed. If he's being honest with himself, he knew he wouldn't find anything. This is a distraction so he doesn't think about all the danger Carey's in, or the fact that Carey could've gotten PK to go with him, but chose not to. He's doing his best not to think about that so his head won't explode, pretty much, and this is a really good way to do that.

He ends up leaving, because there's no sense in staying when there's obviously nothing Dark going on. He goes back to the hotel room and sits on the bed - the clean one, the one they didn't mess up. They're going to be here for awhile, long enough that PK feels like they should hide their stuff and let housekeeping in. But part of him is whispering, who's 'they'? What if Carey doesn't come back?

"He'll come back," PK says out loud. Talking to the wall isn't exactly comforting, but it's better than nothing.

But then Carey doesn't come back.

PK waits two hours - a reasonable time, he thinks - before pulling out the mirror. It feels wrong, like an invasion of privacy; still, he's an Auror, and it actually is his responsibility to keep up with his partner.

He says, "Show me Carey Price," and waits.

At first, nothing happens. Smoke is swirling in the mirror, as always, and for a second PK thinks Carey's blocked PK's tracking. Because he thinks that, he's working up a lot of both relief and anger - until the smoke clears and he sees Carey, lying on the ground in a cell, his face mottled with bruises.

For a second, PK feels like he's been Stunned. His head spins and he jerks, almost dropping the mirror. But then his crisis management hits him, and he sets the mirror down and takes a deep breath.

Carey's been taken. Okay. It's happened before, with Aurors doing the dangerous work against Dark wizards. It's something PK can deal with, because it's something he's been trained to deal with, and Aurors go into their positions with the expectation that at some point, they will actually have to use their training.

He takes another breath. He can't just storm the Auror headquarters. Doan would probably kill him; PK's good in a duel, but he's not good enough to win a duel against a Dark wizard when he has all the power of the Aurors behind him. And PK can't call for help in Quebec, because Martin is in league with Doan, and who even knows what Mortimer's doing. He could call Caro - he should call Caro - but right now he knows he won't be able to talk without panicking, so he doesn't do that, either.

He needs a plan to get Carey out of there, and he needs it yesterday. He's confident Carey can stand up to torture, but that doesn't mean Doan won't get stuff out of him. Crucio isn't the only trick Dark wizards have to make people talk.

PK stands up and goes over to Carey's bags. There are some obvious first steps here, and one of them is to make sure Carey wasn't keeping any secrets from him.

An hour later, PK's gone through all of Carey's things, physically and magically. There's nothing there. Apparently Carey took the exhortations to trust your partner seriously, aside from the whole thing where he snuck off alone.

That's kind of worse for PK. He doesn't know what to do now, except for calling Caro.

So he gets out his phone and dials her. "Hi," he says when she picks up.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you. What's wrong?"

PK kind of wants to ask what isn't wrong, but he refrains. Instead he says, "Carey went to the Auror headquarters on his own. He's been captured."

There's a long, long silence on the other end, before Caro says, "How do you know this?"

"I saw him. He had an enchanted mirror."

"Tabarnak," Caro says, then, "Damn it. Little fool."

"I know," PK says. "I tried to tell him - anyway, now I guess I need to go in and get him."

"You really think you can do that?"

PK frowns. It sounds like a leading question. "Sure."

"Hmm," Caro says. "Well - if you're sure."

There's a lot she's not saying there, so PK says, "It'll be fine."

"You don't need to convince me," she says. "A plan would be nice, however."

"I have to do a lot before I have a plan," PK says. "Tactical evaluation. Moving hotels."

"You think he'll have given you up?"

Not in a million years - or so PK wants to believe. But he's not naive enough for that. "I think even Auror training can't tell you how you'll withstand Crucio, or Occlumency, with someone who really wants to break you. Nothing can, until it happens."

"Wise," Caro says. "You have a bloodsucker's wisdom sometimes."

That's ridiculous. PK's always been really invested in being alive, nothing like the calm detachment of the vampires. But he's not going to piss Caro off right now, so he says, "Maybe. I'll call you when I've figured out an actual plan," and hangs up.

He packs his and Carey's things. It's a simple process, and within an hour he's moved to another hotel, in a crappier part of Quebec City. After that, he has no reason not to go to the Auror headquarters.

Doan hasn't secured the headquarters well at all. It gives PK a little bit of hope, enough that he knows it's going to hurt worse if he gets caught.

He casts look-away charms and slips into the service entrance; there are several magical locks, but he dismantles them easily. The back entrance opens into a long, dark hallway. It's narrow, with drab gray doors on either side. The narrowness is a problem, PK knows, because it'll be hard to maintain enough of a look-away charm that no one notices him in the small space; so he waits until he doesn't hear anyone, and starts walking down the hallway as quickly as he can.

PK has one of Carey's socks, which isn't the world's most romantic item, but will help him find Carey. He taps it and whispers, "Reperire."

The sock tugs in his hand. He follows the tug, turning down another hallway and -

There's really a glowing sign saying "Stairs." PK's not going to argue, but it all seems too obvious. Still, if he's walking into a trap, then at least he might get Carey out of it before they both die. It's kind of a bleak thought, but it's better than Carey being tortured even more.

He goes down the stairs. They, more than anything else in the facility, are a sign that it's a Wizarding building: they're rickety and wooden, held together with enough charms that PK can feel the magic as he descends.

The basement is dark and dank. "Lumos," PK says - and jumps back, because there's a giant, sleeping lizard on a chain that really doesn't look like it'll hold it back from stopping an intruder.

He presses the tip of his wand against his shirt, the better to hide the light. In the dim shadows, he steps around the lizard carefully, watching its belly rise and fall steadily.

It doesn't seem interested in waking up and defending, though. PK makes it past the lizard and goes down yet another hallway, this one lined with moldy-looking wooden clapboard. The sock is tugging more urgently now, and PK walks at a quick clip - not fast enough to fall, but faster than he normally goes, lit wand held out in front of him.

He's passing another generic stretch of boarded-up walls when someone says hoarsely, "PK?"

PK stops and turns. All he sees is boards, but that doesn't mean much. Also, the sock is tugging so hard that he follows, taking a few steps forward and turning to his left as the sock goes limp.

"Carey?"

"Nox," PK whispers, then says, "There's a glamor. Hang on."

Finite incantatem doesn't work, but Revelare does. The boards disappear, and he sees Carey standing with his hands wrapped around the bars of his cell. He looks strangely good, though he's ragged and his eyes are bloodshot.

"You shouldn't have come here," Carey says.

PK feels, for just a moment, a bright flash of anger. But right now isn't the time for that, so he pushes it down and says as calmly as he can, "Not now. I have to get you out of here."

"They broke my wand."

Carey's voice sounds hollow. PK - PK never wanted to see Carey like this, not knowing how good Carey is at being an Auror, and surviving high-pressure situations. But really, even though he wanted away from his desk, he never wanted any of this.

He doubts it will work, but he says, "Alohomora."

The cell creaks open. Carey rushes out of it, and before PK can say anything, he grabs PK and shoves him against the far wall, kissing him hard.

PK's head is reeling, but he kisses back, clinging to Carey to remind himself that they have a chance to get out of this now. Carey kisses him like he's furious, but also like he wants this; it's a long minute before PK pulls away and says, "We have to go. I don't have a spare wand for you here."

"I'm going to get my hands on one once we're out," Carey says.

He looks so intense that for a second, PK's really glad he doesn't have a wand on him at the moment. Then Carey says, "Let's go," and grabs PK's hand.

PK casts a look-away spell, and then a silencing charm on top of that. They walk down the hallway together, Carey's hand like a vice around PK's. PK's pushed all of his feelings away - the anger, sure, but also the relief that Carey's okay, and the overwhelming need to keep him safe.

They make it past the lizard, up the stairs, and down the hall. PK thinks, for a minute, that they're going to make it out just fine; but then someone rounds a corner, looks at them, and yells, "Stop right there!"

"Now we run," Carey says, sounding grimly satisfied.

They take off at a run, down the corridor away from the guy. PK's looking for an exit, any exit, but there are none to be found, and they can't Apparate out of an Auror building. Carey's stumbling, almost, running more slowly than he normally does, and as they turn another corner, an alarm begins to sound.

PK gets an idea. It's kind of awful, but it's better than no idea at all, so he says to Carey, "Cover your ears?"

Carey does it without questioning. PK points his wand at the nearest wall and yells, "Infringo!"

It's a spell meant to clear snow or maybe blow a door off its hinges, but he says it with force and pours power into it. There's a roaring noise, and then a ripping sound that's quickly overwhelmed with crashing as the entire wall blows outward.

"Come on," PK says before the smoke's even cleared. Their assailants have stopped temporarily, thrown themselves to the ground; PK takes advantage by leading Carey out, over the rubble and into the street.

He throws his arms around Carey and they Apparate together. They arrive in the alley behind the motel where PK moved their things.

No one's around, which means PK has time to say, "Are you okay?"

"Not splinched," Carey says tightly.

PK grabs his hand again and leads them inside and up the stairs, into their room. Carey sits down heavily on the bed, staring at the faint mildew stains on the far side of the room.

"I have a spare wand," PK says, remembering what he didn't have time to say at Auror headquarters.

"They saw us," Carey says. His voice still has that awful blankness to it. "They know you're not kidnapped, too."

PK doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to suggest that Carey might've told; but he knows he has to, so he says, "Did you tell them anything?"

Carey shakes his head. "I...would have," he says. "If you'd left me there longer. But you had a chance. You had a chance, and now you don't."

PK turns and goes to get his spare wand. He hands it to Carey, but Carey takes it with a look on his face that makes PK realize what he's hearing. "Wait, are you mad at me?"

"You ruined our shot at getting Martin," Carey says.

"You just said you might've given me up anyway!"

"But now they know for sure," Carey says. "I was lying, I could've - PK, I could've cut my tongue out or killed myself, and they wouldn't have known."

He says it in that same awful, flat voice, like the thought of dying doesn't scare him at all. And they're safe here, relatively at least, so PK feels free to say, "That's awful. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm doing my job," Carey says. "You should've done yours."

"My job is to keep you safe!" PK says. "Are you serious? I'm not going to just let you die."

"Better than losing a good lead."

PK stares. "No," he says finally. "Maybe if Mortimer was about to take over Quebec, but right now? Not really."

Carey shakes his head. "I wouldn't expect you to get it," he says, and goes into the bathroom.

PK sits down heavily on the bed. He feels like an idiot. Maybe he is an idiot. Part of him is furious with Carey, and part of him is just - half-panicked, and feeling helpless.

Sleeping in the same bed that night is singularly awful. PK half hopes they can sleep together and just forget about the fight, but he knows that's not reasonable - and also, not something Carey would ever do.

The next day, they wake up and drink coffee together from the little coffee maker in the bathroom. PK showers and gets dressed, and Carey does the same. It's all incredibly mundane - except for how, at the end of it, PK says, "I'll see you sometime soon, then."

"After we see our families," Carey says.

PK's still not sure Martin won't kill them; acting like they meant to take leave, and saying someone tried to fake their kidnapping to kill them for real without being caught, seems like the kind of silly story people come up with for comic books. But Carey seems confident that it'll work, and it's a better strategy than anything else they can think of. They'll just have to regroup and find a different way to incriminate Martin.

"Well," PK says. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Carey says.

He hoists his bag awkwardly. PK takes a firm hold on his and Apparates.

He's Apparated to the Wizarding street just outside his parents' home countless times, but right now, he feels like he's been kneecapped. The familiar street, the smell of outdoor cooking in the air - even the angle of the dying summer sun makes his stomach flip over like he's grabbed a Portkey. He takes his bag and walks down the street, turning into his driveway and going up the steps.

The door's unlocked, so he lets himself in and calls, "Mom."

A glass breaks in the kitchen. He drops his bag and hurries in. Somehow, in the few seconds that takes, his mom has started crying.

"I'm sorry," he says. He had a plan - a whole script, even - but all of that's disappeared in the face of his mother, staring at him like she's looking at a ghost.

Which, to her, he probably kind of is.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I - we had to. This case, Mom, this case and our jobs, it's all -"

"Hush," she says, and grabs him, pulling him into a hug.

He lets himself lean down into her, lets her hold the back of his head and rub his back like he's four and his sisters won't stop stealing his toy broom. He's not surprised when, a minute, later, she pulls back and smacks his chest. "Never do that again."

PK doesn't say that he might have to, because he knows she knows that, and that that's not the point. Instead he says, "I'm sorry."

"I know," she says. "And I know you'll do it again, if you have to, and none of my spells will be able to track you down."

That's accurate, more or less. PK widens his eyes a little and tries to look innocent.

Finally, Mom sighs. "Are you hungry?"

"A little." He's always hungry when it comes to her cooking.

"Come into the kitchen," she says. "I just made some bread."

It's fluffy, the rosemary bread from a recipe shared with her when she and Dad first moved to Canada. She cuts PK a massive piece, and he eats it sitting at the table, with her staring at him from the kitchen counter.

She Floos his sisters and his father as he eats. PK wishes she'd chosen any other method of communication, because they cry and look upset while PK shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and tries to tell himself that he only did what he had to.

It's true, even. But that doesn't stop him from feeling guilty.

His brothers and sisters all descend on him that night. They joke about thinking he was dead in that way that makes it painfully obvious that they meant it. PK manages to deal with it until 10, at which point he begs exhaustion and goes up to his room.

It's the first time in all of this that he's cried. And he's not sobbing; he's just tearing up and wiping at his eyes, taking deep breaths. It's too much, he can't help but think; all of this is just too much to deal with, and he has to deal with it anyway.

He doesn't sleep well that night.

Three days later, he finally contacts Carey.

He doesn't have a Floo address or anything, but PK doesn't really need that to get in contact with Carey right now: they still have their Muggle cell phones, charmed to work in magical environments. He calls Carey sitting in his bedroom at home, sheet tucked around his feet, still a little wet from his shower.

"Ten more days," he says when Carey picks up.

"I'm aware," Carey says.

He sounds - cold, PK thinks, and like he's suspicious of PK. The unfairness of it stings a little, but PK's promised himself that he's going to try, and trying involves putting up with Carey's weirdness.

"How's your family?" he says.

"They're fine. My horse was worried about me."

PK laughs, but the stony silence on the other end tells him that was a mistake. Okay, so cell phones have some downsides compared to Floo: he can't tell if Carey's angry right now or not. "Um, sorry."

"He's been my partner for a long time," Carey says. "I'd keep him in Montreal if I could."

"Because Montreal's your home now."

"It was," Carey says. "I don't...Martin might strike us dead where we stand."

"That probably won't happen," PK says. They've had this argument before, and he's sticking with his stance on it.

"Sure," Carey says. "But it could happen."

PK has no way to respond to that, so he says, "Well, at least we'll have seen our families."

Carey laughs hollowly. "At least."

They sit in silence for a minute, but PK suddenly remembers the way they fucked, which - the way things are right now, he'd really rather not think about it. So he says, "I should probably go."

"Sure," Carey says.

"But I'll talk to you later."

"Or just see you in ten days."

There's something Carey's not saying, and PK can't, for the life of him, figure out what it is. He gives up after a minute, choosing instead to say, "Yeah. One of the two for sure."

"Keep your head up, PK," Carey says, and hangs up.

PK flops sideways, staring up at his ceiling. Carey is too confusing sometimes, he thinks.

He can't very well call Carey back and demand an explanation, though, so instead he gets dressed and goes downstairs. His dad wants his help constructing charms to weather-proof the roof, and that's the kind of puzzle PK loves to try and solve. He's looking forward to it, in a mundane kind of way that has nothing to do with his life for the last couple months.

They get up to the roof, with their wands out, when Dad says, "You've spent a lot of time with your partner."

"That's the job," PK says cautiously. He doesn't want Dad to think - well, the truth, really.

"I know," Dad says. "It interests me."

PK waits, which is usually the best strategy when Dad gets like this.

"You were so sedate before," Dad says. "I would tell people my son is an Auror, and they'd want to know about your duels and arrests. It wasn't like that for you." He looks over at PK. "But my understanding is that you were happy."

"I was," PK says. "And I am now, too. I just..." He trails off trying to think of how to say it, how to explain that he was happy, but he loves actually being in the field, trying to bring justice to the world. He thinks about working with Carey and fights down the instinctive happiness, and then can't help but feel fear when he thinks of Martin and Mortimer. "With Carey, things got complicated," he says finally. "But that doesn't mean they were bad. Are bad."

"Are you going to tell us why we were told you'd been kidnapped?"

"Witnesses saw us being taken," PK says quickly. Mentally he's begging Dad not to push; he doesn't want to have to explain it. He doesn't want to have to lie.

Dad says, "I know." In those words are the weight of feelings PK doesn't want him to have - grief and anger, a mix of awful things. He wants to apologize, but he knows he can't.

Finally he just says, "Well. It won't happen again."

"I hope not," Dad says, and raises his wand.

That night, PK takes a long bath. A bath, not a shower, because his parents are sort of traditional, and PK wants the chance to think. He lies down in the magically-warmed water and closes his eyes, thinking back to his time with Carey, both being undercover and later, being on the run.

Carey's given up too easily. PK knows that. He wants to trust that Carey doesn't have any other plans, but that would require trusting Carey, and since PK just broke him out of the Auror's headquarters, he's not feeling very trusting. He doubts Carey will go after Doan again; if nothing else, the memory of Crucio should be enough to keep him away for awhile. But Martin, though older, is a lot less intimidating than Doan in some ways. He's more small-time, more of an opportunist than a leader.

Except, of course, for how he has Mortimer's spells.

PK still has the reserve of extra magic. It makes him shudder to think of how it was made, but he knows the time will come when they need to use it. He just hopes it's not soon. He wants to resolve this above the board, no more cloak and dagger stuff. For all that he went undercover and spends time in the field now, he has a very keen memory for the rules, and he does actually respect them.

He'll use them to stop this. With Carey or without him - whichever way keeps Carey safest.

Chapter 6

He stays with his family for ten more days. During that time, he doesn't really talk to Carey; if Carey's making plans, PK's not part of them. And of course, he's sure Carey is making plans. But then, there's nothing he can reasonably do about it.

And, if PK's being honest with himself, he really needs this break.

At the end of the ten days, he Apparates back to Montreal, going straight for Carey's apartment. Caro was very thorough; Carey's stuff looks like it's been cleaned out. But sure enough, PK can still unlock it, and when he says, "Um, we're back," and taps his wand against the wall, the rooms fade back into their old existence.

It's kind of a terrifyingly impressive piece of magic. Or at least, PK thinks, it would be terrifying if he didn't know Caro as well as he does.

He settles in and waits for Carey. Sure enough, Carey comes in about an hour later.

He stops dead when he sees PK. "Hey."

"My place is probably cleared out," PK says. "We told Caro to just do your place, remember?"

Carey winces. "Right."

"My stuff was at my parents'," PK says. He figures that probably makes it better. "Also, you should tell me what you're planning."

A minute ago, Carey looked kind of freaked out. But now his face goes all stormy, and he clams up, saying, "No."

"Do your parents think it's a good idea?"

"Do you think I've told them?" Carey snaps.

"I think you thought about it," PK says. "But no, you probably kept it to yourself. No one's going to accuse you of being the brightest."

"Fuck off," Carey says.

"Whoa," PK says. "Carey -"

"No. I don't need your input on this." Carey smacks his wand on his bag so hard it leaps into the air. "I'll be in my room," he says, and brushes past PK.

Well, that could've gone better. Maybe the joking insult was a bit much.

PK sits on the couch for awhile, all but twiddling his thumbs. Then he has a realization, kind of like Newton, on a much smaller scale:

He's been going about this all wrong.

By now, Martin will be back in the city. He can go back into the office and give his explanation - he's way better at this kind of lying than Carey, anyway, since it involves being himself without the blanket of undercover to smooth over the rough edges. But the important thing about going back into the office is his boards are there, and his Muggle markers. He can take those back to Carey's, and then he can solve this.

Or, well. He tamps down on his optimism a bit. He can at least start to solve it.

Mind made up, he gets up and changes into his robes. He picks some of his day-to-day ones, the better to look like he just got back from a vacation. It's barely eleven, so he can believably be coming back, taking it easy after a leisurely vacation. PK charms a few pictures in his wallet, making them look like beaches, then Apparates to headquarters.

It all looks the same. PK doesn't know what he was expecting, really, but not this: it's pristine and seems to be running as well as Montreal ever runs. Not as well as it could, but then, prime efficiency isn't Martin's goal, apparently.

He's waylaid by Plekanec as he gets to his desk. "We heard you were kidnapped," Plekanec says. "Only got word from your mother yesterday."

So Mom's played her role. Thank Victoria. "Oh," PK says, blinking owlishly. "I heard that. Some revenge for our undercover job, eh? The simulacrums, she showed me pictures." He swallows. "Disturbing."

That part, at least, is true.

"I'm glad you're back," Plekanec says, and leaves.

He doesn't sound glad, but PK'll take what he can get. He makes a big show of shuffling papers, then goes into Martin's office.

Martin doesn't so much as twitch when he looks at PK. If PK weren't angry with him, if he felt less helpless or scared, he'd probably admire it just a little.

But PK's all of those things, so instead he just stands still and waits for Martin to say something.

"It's good to see you," Martin says finally.

It sounds like a lie, but PK replies, "It's good to be back."

"An unfortunate mishap, with your vacation."

PK nods. "I don't know how the paperwork got lost. And the kidnappings...I guess that's a consequence of going undercover against dangerous Dark wizards." He widens his eyes, aiming for 'too dumb to be anything but innocent'.

Martin blinks a few times, then nods, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. Apparently PK's aim was correct. "It's a very unfortunate sequence of events," Martin says. "Will you be in the office today?"

"I was hoping to go home," PK says. "I have a few things I need to grab, but I'll work on paperwork from there. I should finish it up from our last job, anyway, before we get another assignment."

"Of course," Martin says. "Be in the office tomorrow, nine AM sharp."

"Absolutely," PK says. Before Martin can say anything else, PK makes his escape.

He takes his files on the case home, along with some ostentatiously arranged paperwork, a corkboard, and a dry erase board. People give him amused looks as he floats them out into the Apparation lobby, but they don't say anything. They've gotten used to his Muggle tools.

And now, PK thinks, he's going to use those Muggle tools to fix this mess. For good.

Carey's sitting in the kitchen when PK gets back. He looks on in bewilderment when PK plops the papers down on the table and levitates the boards against the wall. "Is there a reason for this?"

"Problem-solving," PK says. He's never deliberately close-mouthed; he thinks of that as being more Carey's job. But right now, he doesn't really want to explain himself. He has to work around Carey, not with him, and that means putting up boundaries between them.

Carey very obviously picks up on some of that. He rolls his eyes and says, "Okay," and leaves the kitchen, tossing his magazine hard into the trash as he goes.

PK's not going to worry. He can't afford to worry right now. He pulls his markers out and starts flipping through the files.

Mortimer, he thinks, is the obvious starting point.

PK takes his whiteboard down as soon as he's drawn his conclusion. He knows there are other ways, ways that are probably more cautious and that don't involve deals with a Dark wizard. But he's pretty sure that if he attempts to follow any of them, Carey will die. As it is, he's already going to lose Carey; but at the very least, he should make sure Carey stays alive and is just permanently pissed at him.

If he talked to his mother, she'd tell him to go to the head of the Royal Canadian Aurors. But PK doubts that will do any good. Even if they listen to them long enough to go to the woods and find Martin's plans, the odds are that Martin has moved the site. And if he tries to dig up evidence again, Carey will already have acted. That's leaving aside the fact that the Aurors might not be willing to do anything. They haven't in the past, sometimes, when it comes to Quebec.

No; PK's going to do this himself. Or, almost. First he's going to talk to Hal.

Hal looks surprised when PK shows up on his doorstep, then kind of angry. "Get inside," he says, yanking PK in. "You know you're a walking target, right?"

PK looks around. "Is it safe?"

"My house is a fortress of defensive magic kids like you can barely comprehend," Hal says. "Now. Into the living room. Lucky for you, my wife has taken our lovely children to a movie."

"Lucky me," PK says weakly. He sits down in the chair Hal motions to.

"So," Hal says. "You're not dead. Or being tortured."

"Not yet."

"I'm delighted to hear that."

Hal's face betrays nothing, but PK kind of suspects he might've been upset. There's no real way to bring that up, though, so PK just says, "Thanks."

Hal nods. "Now, please tell me you have a plan. This kind of subterfuge is not Carey's strength."

"Carey has a lot of strengths," PK says. Then he realizes he sounds like an idiot and clicks his mouth shut.

Hal snorts. "Carey trusts in the authority of the Aurors. He has to, to go deep undercover like that. Now that that trust has been betrayed, my guess is he has plans to do something deeply stupid."

That's really not at all inaccurate, PK thinks. So he says, "Yeah. I mean - yeah."

"Which brings us back to your plan." Hal leans back and raises his eyebrows. "Tell me about it. Don't leave anything out."

Like PK would dare, with Hal. He launches into an explanation. It's harder than he thought; there's so much he never got a chance to tell Hal. But at the end of it, Hal nods and says, "It's not completely boneheaded."

"You don't think the part about partnering with Mortimer is a death sentence?"

"If it doesn't work, it is," Hal says. "But if it works - no. You'll be fine."

He says it like he's absolutely sure. PK wishes he had that luxury. "Will you smack me if I admit how scared I am?"

Hal shakes his head. "I know you're scared. But what good will it do to talk about it?"

That's pretty true, so PK says, "I guess I should go, then."

"Nah," Hal says. "You can't go out and find Mortimer for at least a few hours. Stay, have a butterbeer. Or a firewhiskey. You'll need it."

PK is definitely not the type of guy to turn down a drink in times of trouble. He says, "Hit me."

An hour later, he leaves Hal's, with one drink warming his stomach and a much better idea of what he's actually going to do tonight. He's somewhat worried that going back to Carey's will mean he spills the beans about the plan, so instead he goes to Caro's and explains himself, again. Only this time, it's a skeptical Melissa and a coolly interested Caro listening.

"Has it occurred to you that going off on your own is exactly what Carey did, and the reason your cover was blown?" Melissa says when he finishes.

"I can't stop him from doing something alone," PK says. "All I can do is try to head him off."

"I have met such stubborn people," Caro says. "But surely you know he'll be furious with you."

"Sure," PK says. "But he'll also be alive. So."

"The things we do for love," Melissa says sarcastically. But her eyes flick over to Caro, which is interesting. Or would be interesting, if PK wasn't pretty busy worrying about his own stuff.

"Something like that," PK says.

"Well, lucky for you, I know how to find Mortimer," Melissa says. "Give me five minutes."

"You're sure? I didn't want to ask you. The trauma -"

"I'm sure," Melissa says in clipped tones, which is how PK ends up peering into a skull-shaped cup, looking at the watery reflection of Mortimer in his stronghold.

"Oh," PK says. "Well, I guess if we snuck into it once before, I can do it again."

"Did you bring your cloak?" Melissa says, waving her wand. The cup goes dark.

"No," PK says. "So I won't be invisible. But I cast a mean look-away spell."

"That won't be enough," Caro says.

Implication is heavy in her tone. PK isn't really surprised; he just says, "You mean I should give myself up."

Caro nods. "He probably won't kill you. Out of curiosity, if nothing else."

"Comforting," PK says.

"It was meant to be," Caro says. Her smile is kind of mean. "Now go."

So PK goes. He Apparates to the suburbs, then slowly makes his way to Mortimer's mansion.

Unfortunately, that gives him plenty of time to think. About losing Carey, about what that'll mean to him. He and Carey - they don't have a normal relationship, really. It's not like sleeping together was professional, and even for two people who were sleeping together, they were kind of weird. There's no way PK can quantify what they're doing that points to it being a normal relationship, and that's frustrating.

It also makes PK worry about what'll happen, all the way up to the point when he's standing at the edge of Mortimer's property. Then he has other stuff to worry about.

He doesn't bother trying to disguise his approach, since he figures that will probably just get him killed faster. Instead, he holds up his hands as he gets closer to the mansion.

A flunky finds him quickly. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you," he says, holding his wand out.

"Wait," PK says in English. Then he adds, in French, "I need to talk with Mortimer. I have a deal for him. He'll want to consider it."

The guy's eyes narrow, but he says, "Fine. Come with me."

PK follows him into the mansion, and down the same long hallway he and Carey had gone down. Mortimer is sitting in his chair, but this time, Martin's head isn't in the fireplace.

"Bring him here," Mortimer says.

The flunky escorts PK over to stand in front of Mortimer. PK stands up a little straighter. He knows he probably looks like some kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but if he's going to die, he wants to at least present like he cares.

"Well," Mortimer says. "I will admit, this is a surprise."

"Not too much of one, I hope," PK says.

Mortimer smiles narrowly. "I did see you coming, yes. No need to worry on my account."

"Oh, I didn't think so," PK says. "But why don't you get your guy over there to take his wand off me? I came to talk. You can even take my wand - it's in my back pocket."

Mortimer glances over at the flunky and nods. The flunky gingerly removes PK's wand and tosses it to Mortimer, who sets it on the table nearest him.

"See?" PK makes a show of visibly relaxing. "We're all friends here."

"That remains to be seen," Mortimer says. "You're an Auror. Has Quebec sunk so low?"

"I wouldn't call it low," PK says. "And anyway, you know how low our province's Aurors have sunk."

"Dealing with an insane Dark wizard," Mortimer says. "The press would be shocked."

"They're not the only ones, if we proved it."

"Have you been this inept at gathering evidence?"

"There have been complications," PK says. "And there's Doan to worry about, too."

Mortimer presses his lips together. He doesn't like Doan; good. That will make the rest of this easier.

"I can bring them to justice," PK says. "I just need the evidence you have."

"And implicate myself?" Mortimer snorts. "An admirable attempt. But no."

"No," PK says. "That's not what I want at all."

"Then you'd better explain yourself. I'm getting bored."

"I want to make a deal," PK says.

He was kind of hoping Mortimer would be at least a little surprised, but Mortimer doesn't so much as bat an eyelash. "We all want something."

"True," PK says. "But what I want is a little harder to get, let's say."

Mortimer still looks unimpressed. "And?"

"I want your evidence," he says again. "But I'm willing to pay for it."

"Go on."

"Magic," PK says. "You can take one day of magic, once a week, for a year."

"That won't do me much good in prison."

"Sure, but who says you'll be in prison? My targets are Martin and Doan. I know you have information on them. You can disappear easily, don't pretend you can't."

PK's gone over the pros and cons; he knows what he's asking, what he's telling Mortimer he can have. Once the mess in the Quebec Aurors is cleaned up, he and Carey will have to go right back to working against Mortimer - even as PK's giving him probably the most potent weapon PK's ever heard of.

It's a big risk. Some people might say it's a stupid one. But PK can't let Carey sacrifice himself.

"That's an inconvenience for me."

"If you don't do this, Martin will be removed," PK says flatly. "And your safety isn't guaranteed then."

"You're sure of this?"

"And serious as a heart attack."

Mortimer looks him up and down. "Fine," he says. "But I want a binding oath."

The oath is quickly done - clasped hands, witnesses, and all. PK makes it back to Carey's before he collapses. Carey's nowhere to be found - probably formulating his plot. Not that it matters. PK has a bag full of enough incriminating evidence to put Martin and Doan away for life, and tomorrow he's going to the Royal Canadian Aurors headquarters and presenting it.

And hopefully they won't question him too much about how he obtained the evidence.

He crashes on the couch before Carey gets back, and wakes up in the middle of the night to Carey coming in. Being an Auror, he's not going to sleep through that much noise; at first he thinks Carey might be drunk, but then he realizes that Carey's hitting the wall, over and over.

"Hey," PK says, sitting up. "Carey, you're going to bust your knuckles. Come on."

"I can heal it," Carey says hollowly.

"Um, and you can fix your wall, too, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea." PK approaches Carey slowly - not because he thinks Carey will punch him, but because he's worried Carey's going to hurt himself. "Come on, buddy," he says, resting a hand on Carey's arm with just enough pressure to try and discourage him from punching again.

Carey turns to him. PK does his best not to show any surprise, but - Carey looks so rough.

"Why do we do this?" Carey says. Hit voice is low and ragged-sounding.

"Because we care about making the world better," PK says. "You do it because you care. You want to fix things."

"Sometimes I think it's all just one long, deadly ego trip."

"Well, sometimes you're an idiot," PK says. "Come to bed."

Carey glances over at the couch.

PK swallows around a sudden lump in his throat and says, "It's not like we haven't been sleeping together sometimes. You could use a - friend."

"Okay," Carey says, but he doesn't move.

So it's up to PK to guide him back into his bedroom. Carey gets undressed himself, but it's PK who pulls him into bed, and it's PK who curls around him, pulling the sheet up over them and resting his head on Carey's shoulder.

"Go to sleep," PK says quietly.

He stays awake until Carey does.

The next morning, he wakes up and goes out into the kitchen. Carey's drinking coffee at the table. PK pushes down his nervousness as much as he can and says, "I'm going out today."

"Sure," Carey says, not looking up from his notebook.

Probably full of his plans. PK knows he's being a little paranoid, but damn it, he's earned it.

He drinks coffee with Carey and then stands up. He wants to kiss Carey goodbye, which is ridiculous, because presenting damning evidence to the Aurors is a lot less dangerous than going straight into a Dark wizard's stronghold. But he still kind of wants to hide from the world when he Apparates to the designated entrance point outside the headquarters in Toronto.

"Um, hi," he says when he gets to the admittance desk. "I'm an Auror with the Montreal division."

He's pretty sure the witch at the desk gets a little more disdainful at that. "Yes?"

There's no really good way to say it, so PK just gives up and says, "I have serious evidence implicating the heads of the Quebec City and Montreal Aurors in conspiracy with Dark wizards."

The witch stares, and then stares some more. PK lifts his bag and says, "It's in here."

"I'll get you an appointment with the Commissioner," she says. "If this is a hoax, please be aware that there will be repercussions."

"Of course," PK says.

She nods at the row of chairs at the back of the room. "You can sit back there."

PK sits. He should have expected this, but he didn't, really; now he has nothing to distract him from how nervous he is, and no reason not to feel incredibly worried about everything. He does his best to distract himself, but Wizarding Canada doesn't believe in giving you magazines the way Muggle doctors do. So he sits and stares at the stone walls until finally, the witch says, "He's ready for you. Follow me."

Brendan Shanahan, head of the Royal Canadian Aurors, is sitting behind a massive desk raised on a dais in his huge office. The effect is somewhat kinglike, and more than a little ridiculous; privately, PK thinks it just makes Shanahan look kind of small. Which is weird, since he's really sort of massive.

Not that he's going to say that out loud. "Sir," PK says, standing up straight and trying to look honest.

"You arrived here with quite the claim," Shanahan says.

"Yes," PK says. "It's true, though."

"I'd be interested to see your proof."

"I'm happy to give it to you." PK picks up his bag. "Who do you want to start with?"

It takes almost two hours. PK's brought his whiteboard, since the bag is charmed to be bottomless, along with everything Mortimer gave him. It's two hours of slowly guiding Shanahan through the twists and turns of the case, until finally he's laying out the evidence Mortimer gave him.

"He's dangerous, sir," PK says. "I'm worried about what he'll do if he's allowed to continue freely."

"Martin, you mean."

"And Doan," PK says, "but Martin hits a little closer to home."

Shanahan steeples his fingers. "My greatest concern is those artifacts you mentioned," he says. "The ability to take magic isn't something to be taken lightly. Task forces will need to be sent to Quebec City and Montreal to apprehend Doan and Martin, so that they can be brought to justice."

He says it portentously, like he's speaking for an audience. But this is the best outcome PK could've hoped for, so he nods, relieved. "Thank you, sir."

"I want you to lead one."

PK blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"This is your case. I want you to lead the capture of Martin."

PK can barely process this, but - "And Carey."

"Your partner?"

The word makes PK want to hide a little, given what he and Carey have been doing. But he nods. "He's been in it the whole time with me. He deserves the arrest."

"Very well," Shanahan says. "We have special forces for this. Give them an hour, and they'll be ready."

An hour doesn't seem like nearly enough time, but at the same time it seems like way too long from now. PK says, "Okay. An hour it is, then."

He tools around for an hour, shuffling and re-shuffling the evidence, going over it again, and doing a few practice curses. A raid is relatively low-risk, compared to the undercover work they've been doing, but it's not like it couldn't possibly go wrong.

Four Aurors approach him just after it's been a full hour. "Subban?"

"Call me PK," PK says. "And hold onto me. I'm going to Apparate us to Carey's."

"The other Montreal Auror?"

"My partner," PK says. This time, he doesn't want to squirm. They're going to lead the raid, like they should.

"Good," one of them says. She has a French accent; PK's not surprised when she says, "I'm Jacqueline."

"I'm Rob," another one says.

"And I'm Lee," says the third. "Let's go, shall we?"

PK glances at the fourth, but she doesn't offer her name. PK shrugs to himself and says, "Let's go," holding out his arm. Once they've grabbed onto it, he Apparates.

He lets them into Carey's apartment. Carey's standing in the kitchen; when he sees them, he blinks.

"I got evidence," PK says, "of Martin and Doan's crimes."

"Ah," Carey says. His eyes flicker from PK to the other Aurors, and PK thinks: he knows. Of course he knows. PK's not subtle enough to fool someone who knows him as well as Carey.

"Well, I'm ready," Carey says, before it has a chance to get awkward. "Let's go."

PK nods. "Should we take the bus?"

"It's probably more subtle," Carey says, "but your friends there aren't exactly dressed like Muggles."

"We'll Apparate, then," PK says. "I want to get this over with."

Carey's hand flexes at his side. "You have no idea," he says. He takes out his wand. "Let's go."

PK realizes the office is deserted right away. For a horrible moment he thinks Mortimer might have sold him out; it's certainly within the guy's MO. But then he remembers the Doan raid. They should have been able to magically make sure Doan and Martin couldn't communicate, but maybe something got through.

And a cup of coffee at Brian's desk is still steaming.

PK grits his teeth. "Everyone, be careful," he says. They advance, wands held out in front of them, getting closer and closer to Martin's office.

The ceiling collapses.

It's mostly in front of them, but a chunk hits Carey and he recoils. "You okay?" PK says.

"Fine," Carey says. He shakes his head, dust flying out of his hair. "Let's go."

They're a lot more wary after that. PK's not surprised when they get to Martin's office and Martin's standing there, wand out, surrounded by the remnants of his furniture. They're whirling around him so quickly PK can barely get a sight on him - and he has no confidence that an attempted curse wouldn't backfire and hit one of them instead.

"God damn it," Carey mutters.

"God doesn't have much to do with it," Martin says. "I'd expect you to use Muggle curses, though. You always were a filthy, low-blooded -"

"That's enough," PK snaps.

Martin raises his eyebrows. "Then come stop me."

PK raises his wand. He's about to cast an unraveling spell when Martin begins chanting an invocation.

"Dissuo!" PK yells.

The bits of furniture crash to the ground - and Carey disappears.

"Carey!" PK launches forward, to the empty space Carey was, but he feels nothing and he doesn't follow Carey to wherever he went.

Martin laughs. "An Eternity Pocket," Martin says. "How long do you think he'll last, then?"

"You -" PK launches forward, but before he has a chance to touch Martin, a Stunning spell goes over his shoulder and hits a rippling shield surrounding Martin.

"Dissuo!" PK yells again. "Dissuo! Silencio!" And then, as the shield cracks and Martin tries to talk, no words coming out of his mouth, PK casts another Stunning spell.

Martin falls to the ground. The other Aurors rush to apprehend him, but PK casts a searching spell, desperately trying to find the trap Martin laid for Carey.

It takes him fifteen minutes; fifteen minutes of desperate searching, aware that his time is running out. Finally, though, he finds it, the tiny tear that he can withdraw and fold back into the known universe.

Carey falls to the ground with a thud.

His face is grey, his breath coming in rattled half-gasps. There's air in Eternity Pockets, but not enough, not nearly enough. He's unconscious. PK would cast a healing spell, but he doesn't know which one.

"Here," Jacqueline says. "He's in shock." She kneels next to PK and runs her wand over Carey. It glows with soft light, and slowly, the color comes back into Carey's face.

When he opens his eyes, PK feels a wave of relief that he's never felt before, overwhelming even his gladness that Martin is in custody. "Carey," he says.

Carey blinks up at him. "We get him?"

"We've got him," PK says.

Carey grimaces. "Good." He sits up, then turns to look at Martin, who's sitting on the floor, bound hand and foot. "Let's get this bastard back to Toronto."

Delivering Martin to Toronto goes well. Shanahan tells them Doan's been apprehended too, and thanks them for their service. They've gotten in contact with the other members of the Quebec Auror's office, and are questioning them under Veritaserum.

They all fill out the beginning of what's sure to be mountains of paperwork, and then, finally, PK and Carey are given leave to go back to Montreal. They Apparate together without saying anything about the case; it's not until they're on the street outside Carey's that PK realizes he can go back home now.

"All of your stuff's in storage, right?" Carey says.

PK shrugs. "I can probably order a bed. Our bonuses will be enough."

Carey presses his lips together. "Right. Sure. Well."

PK shifts from foot to foot. "I'll be seeing you."

"We have work tomorrow."

"Right. I just meant, you know, it was kind of..."

Carey looks at him.

"Never mind," PK says.

He's turning to leave when Carey says, "What'd you promise him?"

PK turns. "What?"

"Mortimer. I saw the evidence. It's obviously his files. So what'd you promise him? Unless we arrested him and everyone just forgot to mention it."

PK can't think of anything he'd like to do less than explain this to Carey. But he says, "A day of magic, once a week, for a year," exactly like he told Mortimer.

Carey stares at PK. He blinks. Then he says, very slowly, "Are you serious?"

"You were going to kill Martin," PK says. There's no sense in talking around it. "We needed justice - we needed to resolve this in a way that didn't involve you going to prison."

"I wasn't going to go to prison."

"So, what, were you going to die?"

Carey glares.

And PK - PK's starting to get angry, because he doesn't get it. "How do you think I'd feel if you died? Or your family?"

"That's beside the point."

"No," PK says. "No, I think it kind of is the point." He doesn't know how to say the next bit; he can't make himself say it, but he has to. After some struggle, he manages to say, "We're partners. And you don't think it's important to me that you stay alive and out of prison?"

Carey shrugs. "Not as important as bringing Martin down is."

PK hardly ever feels this kind of anger. "That's completely stupid."

"Fine," Carey says. "You can leave now." He turns his back to PK and walks down the hall.

PK's never been one for explosive fights. He's an easygoing guy, and he's not really into fighting for no good reason. But right now he wishes he and Carey'd had an explosive fight, just so he could be feeling something right now, aside from vaguely angry and mostly hollowly betrayed.

He leaves silently, levitating his bag down the stairs and then Apparating to his own apartment. When he makes it inside, he sits down on the floor; some of his furniture is still here, covered in white slipcovers, but he doesn't want to sit on his couch. Or maybe it's just that he doesn't care.

He's been in love before; he just wasn't expecting this thing with Carey to hurt this much.

He knows he needs to talk to his family about this, but he's not even sure who he'd floo. He has a lot to explain, at this point. Instead, he calls Caro on his Muggle cell phone.

"Good job," Caro says.

"Thanks."

"Of course, now you're Mortimer's man."

"We have a deal," PK says. "We sealed it with an Unbreakable Oath. He won't come after me for more than he's owed."

"A day without magic, once a week, for a year."

"A small price," PK says. "Carey was going to sacrifice himself."

"That sort of thing can happen when one dedicates oneself to law enforcement."

PK sighs. "That doesn't mean it should, though."

"There's a reason my people don't meddle."

"I know you don't. But someone has to."

"Maybe," Caro says. "Either way, I am glad it's over."

"Is it?"

"Well, no," Caro says. "But you've made significant steps."

PK didn't become an Auror to eradicate Dark magic. He knows that's impossible. "Steps will have to do."

"Don't try to contact me again," Caro says. "You won't find myself or Melissa."

"Thank her for me. She helped a lot."

"I will." Caro pauses. "Take care of yourself," she says, and hangs up.

It's sort of bizarrely comforting that apparently, vampires are crap at goodbyes, too. PK sets the phone down and looks around his apartment.

It's so clean. Cleaner than it ever was with PK actually living here.

He ends up sleeping on the couch, with the slip cover on top of him for some slight warmth. He's aware it's kind of pathetic, but he misses Carey so much it hurts, and he's not interested in going out to buy sheets. This is fine, he tells himself as he drifts off to sleep. He'll get over it eventually.

The worst thing about feeling like shit the next morning isn't that he feels like shit; it's that he has to get up and go to work with Carey. Still, he pushes through it, and is in the office by nine.

Which is when he remembers he doesn't technically have a boss anymore.

"PK," Hal says, looming over his desk.

"Um, hi," PK says. "Is Martin's office -"

"It's a crime scene," Hal says. "For now, the esteemed head of this branch will be working from an interrogation room."

"Cheerful," PK says. "Where is he now?"

"In a meeting upstairs," Hal says. "Flooing the director, I believe."

"Oh." PK turns the information over in his mind. "Have you seen Carey?"

Hal squints at him. "I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what information you want from me. It's clearly not if I've actually see him."

Hal is really good at making that kind of request sound completely intimidating. PK says, "I just wanted to know - we fought, okay?"

"Well, talk to him," Hal says. "You won't stay fighting for long. My daughters don't either."

"Your daughters are kids."

"That's my point," Hal says. He looks sarcastically amused. "He'll probably be in soon. Keep your head up - and congratulations on the collar."

"Thanks," PK says. He does have getting Martin under his belt, at least. Legally.

Hal leaves, and then PK's left to his paperwork. He was right about it when they arrested Martin; there's mountains of it. He's made his way through half of the incident report when Carey shows up, sitting down at his desk across from PK.

"Hi," PK says.

"We should get an assignment soon," Carey says, and grabs his own report, looking away from PK.

Wow. PK wasn't expecting it to hurt this much. "Yeah," he says.

He wants to ask if Carey's hoping for an undercover assignment, if he wants to rest for awhile. But he's hyper-aware of how little Carey will welcome those types of questions, so instead he doesn't say anything. He turns back to his paperwork and tries to focus on that.

That night, he lies on his couch and tries to figure out what's wrong with him. He's worked with Carey for six months now; realistically, that's not a very long time. Not long enough, some people would say - and they'd probably be right. So why is he upset? Why does he care so much? He can't figure it out, aside from knowing that he wants to stay with Carey. Maybe they won't date forever, but PK's love life hasn't been stellar since Auror school, and he'd at least like a chance.

But, he thinks, it goes beyond that. Yeah, sure, he wants to date Carey; and yeah, pretending to be a couple was apparently kind of confusing for PK. But he also just really likes Carey. He likes how wry he is, and he likes the way it feels when Carey manhandles him in bed. Carey's intense and cares so much about being an Auror, and PK wants to be around him. He wants to sleep with him when they're not in danger of dying.

By the time he gives up on turning the problem over in his mind, he feels a lot more self-aware. Unfortunately, he also has no idea how to resolve it. Carey's pissed at him, and PK's pretty pissed at Carey, and they're both angry for really serious reasons. He doesn't see an easy resolution anywhere in there.

He's very clearly hit a dead end, so he goes to sleep. That's much easier than giving himself insomnia over Carey. And at least, PK thinks - at least Carey's alive.

The rest of the week goes pretty much exactly the same. PK and Carey finish up their paperwork, and then are put on light duty for the rest of the week, de-enchanting cursed Muggle objects. PK kind of wants to protest, because it reminds him - chillingly - of the time he spent in that awful room for Mortimer, trying to ignore how afraid he was of this sudden turn in his career. But he doesn't say anything, and by Friday he's disarmed five cursed rings and two cursed vases.

"I'll see you Monday," he says to Carey at five on Friday.

Carey nods curtly and leaves.

PK sighs. He's already getting tired of being heartbroken; it's really not his thing. But there's, realistically, not a lot he can do about it; so he goes home alone, picking up takeout on the way.

On Saturday, he waits for Mortimer. Mortimer, being not the greatest guy in the world, really makes him sweat: it's not until 2 o'clock that he shows up.

"All you need to do is stand," Mortimer says, and completes the ceremony. PK kind of half blacks out during it, from fear. But by the end of it, he feels normal - except for his lack of magic.

He kind of hopes Carey will at least Floo him, but he doesn't see or talk to Carey all day.

On Monday, Carey gets in earlier than PK does. He looks up when PK approaches, eyes narrowing, looking PK up and down.

PK knows what he's looking for. "I told you, we did an Unbreakable Oath," PK says. "I'm fine."

"Just wasn't sure if he'd come on a Sunday," Carey says. "It would've been a problem if he had. We have an appointment with Boucher at ten."

PK can't really throttle his excitement at that. "An assignment?"

"I assume that's what the meeting's for." Carey scratches at his paper, twirling his pen on his fingers.

It's kind of hot. PK looks away.

"Great," he says, and sits down.

An incredibly awkward hour later, they stand up and go into Boucher's office - which is now where Martin's office was, though it's a modern room instead of the heavily furnished, kind of tacky office Martin preferred. They sit down, and Boucher says, "Well. The saviors."

He's kind of...growly, PK thinks. But his office instincts kick in before he has time to wonder if the Royal Canadian Aurors have given them another Dark director. "I'm glad we can finally meet," he says.

"I wanted to read your report first, get your mettle," Boucher says. He taps the reports on his desk, but keeps his eyes on PK and Carey. "You're quite the duo."

"We're professionals," Carey says.

It's just the wrong side of insubordinate. PK opens his mouth to apologize, but Boucher just laughs. "I like your attitude, lucky for you," he says. "So tell me, what assignment are you two looking for?"

"PK's used to office work," Carey says.

PK doesn't recoil. He's a trained Auror: he doesn't even twitch. But he wants to throttle Carey. "And Carey's used to undercover work," PK says. "So a compromise might make sense. Some field work, maybe?"

"That's hardly the request of the heroes of Montreal."

"We were doing our job," Carey says.

"I see," Boucher says. "Well, lucky for you both, I don't buy into false modesty. The player you were chasing before has gotten away: I want you to find him."

Carey glances at PK. PK knows everything he's thinking, and kind of hates Carey for making him be the one to say it. "Sir," PK says. "We'd prefer not to."

"Oh, really."

"That case was difficult for us." PK swallows, then makes himself say, "Traumatic. We'd like to move on." Anything not to mention the Unbreakable Oath.

"Very well," Boucher says. "We've got a criminal breaking into Wizarding homes in the area and leaving no trace. How about you two get on that case? I'll have the files sent over to your desk."

"Thanks," PK says.

That's the end of the meeting. The files are waiting for them in the thirty seconds it takes them to get back to their desks, and PK pounces on them, grateful for a distraction.

After thirty minutes of reading them, Carey says, "He could have an Invisibility Cloak."

PK shakes his head. "Those are rare, and the right combination of look-away charms can have a similar effect."

"You'd know."

It's a dig, but PK ignores it. "I would," he says. "No, I think it's more likely they're using some kind of spell-piercing tool. You can buy them on the black market. They're not indetectable, but I doubt the rookies who did this report would know what to look for."

"So we're going to investigate some of the houses?"

PK grins. "Right in one."

It feels right, Apparating to the last house to be broken into. They present their badges and poke around the house, and PK casts the revealing spell that shows the tell-tale frayed edges of security wards. It's not like Carey claps him on the back in congratulations and asks to go out for a drink after, or something. They have to hunt for the illegal object, after all. But Carey does say, "Good job. I wouldn't have thought of that."

"Thanks," PK says.

Carey gathers his things and leaves without another word.

Probably the worst part about all this is that they can still work together. If, somehow, their professional relationship was also ruined, then PK would feel justified in telling Carey they have to cut it out. But they can work together just fine, so PK'd feel like a liar, trying to get them to become friends again.

They find the cursed object after two days, and Boucher puts them on another job - this time, investigating a series of violent muggings in Montreal's Wizarding district. They're still working on that when Friday rolls around, so PK adds a few more bits of information to his whiteboard before packing his things up for the weekend.

"You're awfully quiet," Carey says.

"Not a lot to say."

Carey opens his mouth, then shuts it with a click. PK almost wants to press, but then Carey says, "I'll see you later," and leaves.

That's that, then. PK sighs and leaves.

Mortimer comes by at ten AM on Saturday, so apparently PK passed the mental test of waiting until late afternoon. By noon, PK's making an omelet by hand and trying to pretend being without magic on a weekend day doesn't bother him.

He's surprised when there's a knock at the door - surprised and worried, because if it's someone hostile, he doesn't have magic to defend himself. Aurors, he thinks wryly, and goes to the door, looking through the peephole.

It's Carey.

PK pulls the door open so fast he almost hits himself in the face with it. "What are you doing here?"

Carey makes a face, shifting hands shoved deep into his hoodie. "Can I come in?"

Part of PK - the part that's hurt, the part that's been hurt for weeks - wants to tell him no. Instead, he says, "Sure," and steps aside.

Carey doesn't go into the living room. He stands in the foyer, stock still, and says, "I'm sorry."

PK blinks.

"You're right, I was going to break the law. And not in a smart way, like you have. I was going to just -" Carey pulls a hand out to wave it. "I practiced the killing curse. I was out of line. You were right."

It's not the most eloquent apology in the world, but Carey's really driving the nail into the board as far as saying sorry goes, so PK revives himself from his shock enough to say, "It's okay."

Now it's Carey's turn to blink.

"You're right," PK says. "You were an idiot. But it's over. That whole case is over. We should be moving on. And it sucks, not being friends with you."

Something passes over Carey's face, but it's gone as fast as it appears, and he looks more or less blank again. "Friends. Yeah. So - I thought I'd hang out. Help you out, if you need magic."

"It's only for a year," PK says. "Could be worse."

"Is that a no?"

"No, it's a yes," PK says. He lets himself relax a little. "Come on. I was going to watch a Muggle movie. All that fake violence can be relaxing."

Carey sprawls on PK's couch like nothing's even happened. He seems perfectly happy to steal the remote from PK and make fun of his taste in Muggle entertainment. PK's torn between being happy and feeling kind of crazy, because it can't be this easy, can it? They can't just - magically go back to being friends, without ever mentioning how often they slept together. But then Carey leans in and jostles PK jokingly over PK's love of children's shows, and PK jostles him back, and for a single split second, Carey's looming over PK on the couch and their faces are inches apart.

Then Carey pushes himself backward and clears his throat. "Sorry."

"No problem," PK says faintly. The other option is begging for an explanation, and he'd like to think he has some kind of pride.

They go back to watching the movie, but PK feels like time's slowed down. He's never been good at the talking part of relationships, and as bad as he is, he's pretty sure Carey's worse; there are plenty of reasons for them to have trouble with each other. But PK's magicless right now, on a gamble to keep Carey safe, and that has to mean something, right? Carey's here with him, despite PK lying to him and breaking the law - that has to mean something too, surely. If PK's learned anything in the last few months, it's that he is actually capable of taking risks, and that sometimes his risks have reward.

So before he manages to lose his nerve, he says, "I made this deal so you wouldn't die."

"We've covered that," Carey says stiffly.

He still has the remote, so PK says, "Can you pause it?"

Carey glares at him, but he does. PK looks at Bruce Willis running away from an explosion and says, "It's not just that I didn't want you to die. We were sleeping together."

"I'm aware. Do we have to have this conversation?"

"I'd really rather we did," PK says. "We lived out this ridiculous drama, and at the end of it, the thing I'm saddest about isn't losing a weekend day of magic, it's the fact that I don't get to touch you anymore."

He thinks he's explained himself pretty well. But then Carey laughs hollowly and says, "PK, I'm pretty sure you can get laid somewhere else."

"That's not what I mean," PK says. Carey's so fucking dense sometimes. PK's going to have to out and say it. "I mean I wanted to keep doing that, with you. I mean I'm in love with you, okay? So going from fucking to barely speaking, yeah, that was rough. And I just think, you know, I don't actually want to return to the dating pool. I'd really rather - what?"

Carey's staring at him, and at some point in PK's babbling, he moved closer. "You what?" Carey says, voice rasping.

PK has the acute and somewhat hysterical awareness that Carey looks almost happy. "I don't want to date anyone else," he says.

"Right," Carey says. "Good. Me neither." He quirks a bit of a smile. "The other stuff, too."

PK lets himself smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Carey says, and reaches out.

PK lets Carey put his hand on PK's shoulder and lean in. But before Carey kisses him, PK says, "Hang on."

Carey stops.

"You're not going to do something crazy like have me moved to another department, are you?"

Carey snorts, which is pretty unromantic since it's happening inches from PK's face. "You're the leader of the Martin capture. I couldn't if I tried," he says, and kisses PK.

PK gets the admiration there, and that as much as the kiss makes him feel like he's flying, hurtling through the air on the best, most responsive broom ever made. He kisses back, curling his fingers into Carey's hair and pressing up against Carey, holding onto Carey's arm with his free hand. He's weak right now by Wizarding standards, but he can push Carey further back and climb into his lap, all without breaking the kiss - so he does, and then he leans back and laughs, still holding onto Carey's hair.

"You'd better not be laughing at me," Carey says.

But when PK looks down, his cheeks are flushed and he's smiling that half-smile that means he's too happy to be really obvious about it. PK laughs again. "No," he says. "Well, I'm laughing at us. Does that count?"

"Asshole," Carey says, and pulls PK back down.

There's no information on Monday about whether or not the new team assigned to the case has made progress on finding Mortimer. PK went over the case with its Aurors, Chu and Markov, already; as far as he knows, they haven't found him yet. For now, PK's stuck with a weekend without magic, and with his bargain hanging over his head.

They catch the muggers on Wednesday. It's a fairly simple case, open and shut, and they're filling out paperwork late Wednesday afternoon when Boucher calls them into his office.

"How do you feel about forests?"

"Um," PK says.

Boucher smiles at him. It's crooked and kind of maniacal, made even more so by his scar. "My esteemed predecessor didn't just happen to have a spot in the woods he dug a hole for. Someone's running an operation spanning most of Quebec, selling various spaces for Dark wizards to keep their secrets in."

This sounds good, PK thinks. Really good. "And you want us to find out who."

"Exactly."

PK looks over at Carey. Carey quirks his eyebrows and smirks a little.

PK turns back to Boucher. "Sir, it would be our honor to track the responsible parties down."

"Excellent," Boucher says. "I'll have the case information sent to your desk. Good luck, gentlemen."

"Thanks," PK says.

They stand up and exit together. By the time they get back to their desks, the files have appeared. They're thick and stuffed full of disorganized information. "My favorite," PK says, pulling out tattered memos and old maps.

"Should we start in the forest?" Carey says.

"That makes sense," PK says. "We should go over this, though."

"You take that massive pile, I'll take this one," Carey says, snagging some paper. "Kind of makes you wonder just how much land happens to belong to wizards in Quebec."

"Something tells me we're about to find out."

PK's smiling. He can't help it; this is a big, important case, and he's excited. He's not at all surprised when Carey smiles back.