Disclaimer: Rights to Harry Potter are JK Rowling's and WB's.

If you don't like the idea of slash, don't read it! 16+

Shadow Stalkers

He leaned up against the wall, hidden in shadows behind the door jam. Standing, unseen, he had a clear view of the room in front of him. He watched the younger man, his partner, search the objects therein for any number of dark curses, beings, or jinxes that the new owners of the house might not wish to encounter. Watched the man tense and relax with each casting, slump in frustration, straighten with accomplishment. The young man unaware of the involuntary noises escaping his mouth with each effort, endearing as they were infuriating. His partner's prodigious skill unmatched by most – save himself, and a few others who were now dead. Months, now, they'd been assigned to work together, cleansing houses for Muggles that would otherwise be unfit. Why anyone'd thought they'd make a decent team was beyond him. Well, not so beyond. Everyone else refused to work with him, and he was the only one who didn't want to work with his partner – everyone else made ridiculous mistakes because they were distracted by the mere existence of the man. Yes, he supposed they were decent together…by default.

"That's sorted, then."

The sudden statement made him start, the movement hidden by shadows. He nodded once, curtly, before realizing the movement wouldn't be seen in the dark. Stepping out so that just the barest sliver of his face became visible, he nodded once more, more cordially this time. He turned on his heel and Disapparated home.

::

He tried to suppress a smile as the older man, his partner, gave the debriefing. His partner hated giving debriefings. But it was fun to watch the emotions flit beneath the surface of the lined face, so he made his partner do it enough times to truly be irritated. He liked working together, with the older man. He had been indignant at first, shouting at his superior dozens of reasons why they should, under no circumstances, be forced to even be in the same room for an extended period of time, let alone work together on a near-daily basis. But he supposed it had worked out. With his other partners, he'd always felt the need to find shadows to hide from their attention. But this man, his new partner, never made him feel like a spectacle. His partner let him do his job. The older man preferred the shadows now, and he always let his partner stand in them, watching him. He could always feel the older man watching him – as he had done for so many years before hand. To be perfectly honest, his partner made him feel safer, in a way. Safer than he had ever felt with his other team members – and not just because his new partner knew more than all his other partners combined. It was something about the way the man would be standing there, just out of reach – out of sight – until he needed something. Help, assistance, a sounding board; his partner was always there, ready to give him exactly what he needed. From the shadows.

::

They were crouched behind the crumbling stone wall. It was only a few feet high, so they truly were crouching; one with a scowl on his face, the other with apprehension. Both alert.

"This position is becoming ridiculously uncomfortable."

"Shh! They'll hear us!"

"That would be precisely the point: the sooner we can draw them out the sooner this can be over."

"Not enjoying our date, then?"

A growl. "Watch it."

An eye roll.

Yes, they were decent together.

Then they heard the noises advancing. The dark creatures haunting the town they had been hired to liberate. One look, a synchronized nod, and both launched themselves out of the shadows, over the ancient masonry, wands drawn, spells illuminating the blackness of the night.

::

It had been what seemed like a long time since he had stood in the shadows. But now he hung just outside his partner's office door, watching. The older man's hands flew gracefully over the parchment, quill scrawling perfect script on the report of the job. Flickering candle casting shadows of jagged desk objects across the page. No sound except the scratching of the feather on the sheet, the slow breathing of the man. No movement, save the dancing hand, the dancing flame, the strands of hair dancing across the pale cheek as the head followed the hand with each word. He knew his partner liked to watch him from the shadows – examine him while he was otherwise occupied, judge, evaluate, find fault with every step. He could understand why. There was something about watching someone who was unaware of being watched. Something about the protection of the shadows that freed a piece inside the soul. The older man stopped writing, gave a near-silent sigh, set down the quill. The nimble fingers ran through the long, black hair, revealing the full side of the face. His partner stiffened, sensing someone – the man really did have impeccable skills. He ducked away from the door and headed back to his own office to Floo home before he was caught.

::

The younger man took a step across the rotting beam and his foot went clear through the wood. He lurched forward and braced himself to fall completely through the floor to the room below.

"Idiot!"

He heard the exasperation at the same time he felt the hand clench the back of his robes and haul him up from what would have surely been a nasty plunge.

"Sorry," he gasped as he stumbled back into his partner. "Can't bloody see in here without proper light. Why d'we have to come to all these jobs at night?"

The older man released him with a shove, disdain showing on his face. "Perhaps Lumos would be of assistance?"

The younger of the two rolled his eyes, sliding his wand out of his sleeve.

"And I will save myself the vexation of explaining the basics of the Dark Arts and their correspondence with the night."

He shook his head and huffed just loud enough that the older man would hear. Less than a heartbeat later, he felt himself thrown against the wall with an arm across his chest, face to face with his partner.

"And just what do you think I should tell the Ministry when their star Dark Arts Emancipator is admitted to St. Mungo's with a host of broken limbs? Or an addled memory? Or a bizarre disfigurement?"

It was almost too dark to tell, but the young man was fairly certain that their noses were almost touching.

"Do you think they would accept my explanation that the Hero of the Wizarding World couldn't be bothered to light his own way? Or that he routinely keeps his wand up his sleeve until he deems it necessary?"

He found it hard to breathe with the full force of the taller, stronger, older man across his chest, pinning him to the wall.

"I think not. Do not think for one moment that I will suffer your churlish attitude when you are at fault. I am under no illusions why we have been paired together."

The young man's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

"You are clearly incapable of looking after yourself and none of the others in the department were up to the task. Or they were tired of filling out the incessant paperwork every time you made some ridiculous blunder."

He became indignant. "Hey, now," he pushed back against his older partner – without success. "I'm good at what I do, and you know it!"

He was rewarded with another shove into the wall – this one cracked his head against the warped wood.

"When you can be bothered, perhaps."

The older man moved in closer so his lips were at his younger partner's ear.

"And what would I do? If some harm were to befall you? Who would suffer me? Let me watch their every move from the shadows? Pretend not to notice my eyes stalking them? Endure my acerbic comments? Tolerate my partnership?"

Head against the wall, he swallowed. Loudly.

"Don't think I don't know you watch me, too. From the shadows. Don't think I don't know you like being watched."

His partner moved a fraction of an inch closer so that the mouth was actually touching his ear, breath hot against the appendage.

"So tell me: Do you think about what I would do if you were to suddenly plunge to your death because you chose to walk along in the dark?"

"No," the younger partner breathed out. He cleared his throat again. "No." This time he shook his head infinitesimally as he made the admission.

"Well, perhaps you should."

And with that, the older man captured his partner's lips in a violent, heated kiss. The floor beneath them creaked with age as their bodies scrambled to get closer together. As soon as it had begun, though, it ended. The older man yanked his partner away from the wall, out of the shadows and into the sliver of moonlight that passed through the nearest window.

"I'll not stand in the shadows any longer, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "No, no more shadows."

And the pair broke apart, continuing their task at hand.

::FIN::