Title: Mirror, Mirror
Author: Leela (leela_cat)
Characters: Kingsley/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Themes/kinks chosen: Mutual masturbation, fingering
Word Count: ~1,670
Summary: Harry isn't willing to wait until Kingsley gets home.
Author's notes: Thanks to my betas florida_minxie and eeyore9990 for their lightning-quick turnaround times. And to the slash chat folks for prompting me when I couldn't figure out what to write.



"I know the timing couldn't be much worse, and that we agreed I wouldn't travel for the rest of my term, but I have to go." Kingsley sighed and scrubbed a hand across the back of his bald head. "Every other leader of a Wizarding community in the European Union for Magic will be there."

"Fine," Harry huffed. "I guess that leaves me explaining to the Weasleys again why you had to miss my birthday party again."

"My term's up in five more months, and then you'll be complaining that I'm underfoot all the time." Kingsley smiled.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "And how much of the next five months are you going to spend at home?"

"You know I can't promise--" A shuffling noise at the door to Kingsley's office had them both turning their heads. Seeing his assistant, Kingsley snapped, "What?"

"If I may interrupt, Minister." His assistant, Carlotta, stood in the doorway, tapping one stiletto-heeled foot. Her navy blue, pinstriped business robes were as immaculate at 10 o'clock at night as they had been when she'd arrived at 7 o'clock that morning. Not even a single hair had dared to escape from the French roll in her brown hair.

"You always do," Harry muttered, and then rolled his eyes at Kingsley's surreptitious hushing gesture.

"The Aurors are here with your Portkey. Auror Finnigan has your suitcase and everything else you asked me to gather for the conference. You have precisely nine minutes to finish your," her lips pursed sourly as her eyes flicked over Harry, "personal business."

With that she spun on her heel and flounced out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

"That woman," Harry fumed, "is a homophobic bitch with delusions of grandeur."

"And she'll be out of our lives in five months," Kingsley said, calm and reassuring.

With a wave of his wand and a couple of muttered words, he shut the door and activated the privacy wards. Then he perched on the edge of his cluttered desk, and Harry moved to stand between his legs. They stayed there for a minute, or possibly longer, with their arms around each other and Harry's head resting on Kingsley's shoulder.

All too soon, however, Kingsley's voice rumbled through his chest. "I have to go, Harry."

Stepping back, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I know. I just..." He shook his head and walked over to the window.

"I'll call tomorrow night." Kingsley came up behind him and rested his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Our usual?"

"I hate those fucking mirrors."

"No, you don't."

"Okay. Not really. Well, except for the way they remind me of..." As Harry's voice trailed off, Kingsley wrapped his arms around him. Harry leant back, finding comfort in the solidity of Kingsley's firm, broad chest. After a few seconds of silence, Harry asked, "Can I fire her when you're done?"

"You'd have to come back to work for the Ministry."

"Not a chance in hell."

After a brief but intense kiss, Kingsley murmured into Harry's ear. "You know, we could just leave her where she is. I'm sure Malfoy will show the proper appreciation for her attempts to run his life."

"Three minutes, Minister." Carlotta's voice -- and her disapproval -- crackled through the intercom.

"Malfoy and Carlotta, can you imagine?" Harry mused. "It almost makes me wish I was an insect Animagus, just so I could be a fly on the wall for that showdown."

They were still snickering when the Portkey swirled Kingsley, Carlotta, and the Aurors away.

O)(O

The mirror that hovered at the end of their bed, between the bedposts, looked nothing like the small, square one that populated some of Harry's nightmares. This large, oval mirror had ravens and crowns carved into its ebony frame. It was canted slightly downwards, so that Harry was fully reflected in its surface.

Harry lay on the bed. The covers were folded at the bottom and pillows were piled under his head. A pot of lube sat on his bedside table within easy reach.

Kingsley was late, as usual, so Harry fidgeted. Picking up the latest issue of Quidditch Illustrated -- birthday present from Ron, of course -- he thumbed through it, made faces at the players, and then dropped it back on the bed. He considered running into the other room to get the Exploding Solitaire cards that Ginny had given him, but decided against it. He always seemed to end up with ash on his face.

Bringing his knees up to his chest, Harry tilted his head to one side and examined his reflection. Hands behind his knees, he pulled his legs apart, pushed them down, and then drew them up again. Too obvious, he finally decided, and placed his feet flat on the bed. He moved them around until his thighs were just wide enough apart to frame his cock and bollocks and provide a hint of his cleft.

Still not quite satisfied, he shoved a pillow under his hips. He was about to change positions again when he heard his name being called and the mirror clouded over.

"Yes, Kingsley," Harry responded, and the mirror started to clear. His breath hitched when he saw his partner sitting on an overly ornate bed, hung with blue and gold curtains that matched the fleur-de-lis painted on the headboard. Kingsley's dark skin looked incredible against that backdrop.

"Harry," Kingsley repeated, his deep voice turning that single word into a caress. "I'm sorry I was late."

"Do I even want to know?"

"I didn't even want to know." Kingsley shuddered. "Suffice it to say that, should the Romanian Minister's next wife leave him for another witch, I don't even want to be on the same continent."

"Would a little distraction help?" Harry ran a hand down his chest, around his navel, and down. Playing with his dark, curly pubic hair, he trailed his fingers around his cock and bollocks without touching them.

"That kind of distraction always helps." Kneeling, arse resting on his heels, Kingsley copied Harry's movements. His tongue wet his lips as his gaze swept up and down Harry's body. "Pinch your nipples. I want to see them stand up around those rings."

Keeping his left hand down at his groin, Harry drew his right hand upwards. A tug on one nipple, a pinch on the other, and then he began to play with them. Using his nipple rings to increase the feeling, he rolled his nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yes, just like that." And then Kingsley mirrored Harry's movements, playing with the gold bars that pierced his own nipples.

Watching, feeling, Harry's cock hardened without being touched.

"Use some of that lube, Harry. Show me what you need."

Without taking his eyes off Kingsley, Harry reached out with his right hand and dug his fingers into the pot on his bedside table. He held up his hand, showing Kingsley the lube, and then brought it down to the base of his cock. In one quick movement, he wrapped his right hand around his cock and slicked himself.

"Again," Kingsley said, sliding his hand up and down his own cock.

Just seeing that twist Kingsley always did at the end, the one Harry could never duplicate, and remembering how it felt on his own cock, made Harry moan. "Fucking miss you, Kings."

"Miss you too." The wistfulness in Kingsley's voice twined around Harry, only to send a jolt through his cock when it turned commanding. "Now show me what you want from me."

Harry began to stroke himself, timing his movements to Kingsley's. Raising his hips slightly, he lubed two fingers on his left hand and brought them to his puckered opening. Circling, pressing, he had to force himself to keep his eyes open, to keep watching Kingsley.

"Push one inside you, Harry."

And when Harry did, they both groaned. Kingsley rose on to his knees, one hand gripping a bedpost, his hips thrusting forward, his cock gliding through the circle of his fist.

"More," Harry begged.

Kingsley hissed, "Yes."

Two fingers inside, rubbing over his prostate, Harry's hand moved faster and faster on his cock. His hips bucked.

Never taking his eyes off Harry, Kingsley fisted his own cock and said, "Now."

Harry's stomach muscles tightened. His hips surged up off the pillow, shoving his fingers deeper. He could almost feel Kingsley's big hand wrapping around his cock, Kingsley's cock pulsing inside him. And he came, his orgasm drawing up from his clenched toes, swamping him.

O)(O

Later, after they'd cleaned up, Harry lay on his stomach on his bed, feet waving in the air, and Kingsley sat, propped up against a mound of pillows, and they talked.

Harry told Kingsley about the crazy witch who'd shown up at his office, complaining about the Dark Magic rituals that her crazy neighbours held every night and wanting him to "decursify" her kneazles. Kingsley described how he'd had to physically intervene between the French and Italian Ministers when they drew wands on each other during an argument over wine.

At the end of the evening, when Harry's jaw was cracking from the yawns he couldn't suppress, Kingsley suggested, "Join me."

Harry's head snapped up and he stared. "What?"

"Tomorrow," Kingsley said. "Close up the office for a few days. I'll arrange for a Portkey and someone to meet you."

"But Carlotta said..."

"Fuck Carlotta," Kingsley growled.

"No, thanks." Harry shuddered. "I'll leave that job to Percy. The prat deserves it."

Kingsley's laughter left Harry aching with the desire to rest his head on Kingsley's chest and feel it vibrate through his body.

Before he could change his mind, Harry said, "I can be ready by 11 o'clock."

"Thank you."

"Just be there when I arrive, all right? Trailing reporters behind you like a bridal train. If I'm going to come out, I might as well do it with a bang."

Kingsley smiled, approval bright in his eyes, and Harry found himself looking forward to getting his reward the next night.