Unbroken

Sunday, Week 1 (3)

Lyla POV

Boss arrives mere minutes after my call and I instantly know there is no time to mess around. From the hard set of his chiseled jaw to the stiffness of his hulking frame, I knew he was fucking pissed. That didn't stop me from licking my lips at the perfectly delectable sight that was my boss, however. You'd have to be an idiot to not see the man was attractive but those eyes were different. They were so vivid, so...vibrant.

From my days working in MACUSA, I can confidently say that there is no one like Harry Potter. I knew I had to have him from the moment my eyes were laid on him but things didn't work out exactly the way I thought it would. Sure, the sex was freaking amazing, but I didn't have his heart. And trust me, I wanted that part the most. Call it a woman's intuition or whatever but I knew his heart belonged to someone else from the minute I looked into those pain-laden eyes.

That was how I ended up as Boss' occasional friend with benefits. It was a good arrangement with even better sex and I got something from him. Granted it wasn't what I wanted, but it was something all right. The type of thing that leaves you bowlegged for hours. But enough of that, I have my job to focus on.

"Where is she?" He questioned me with his signature 'Auror' tone. And he wonders why former Death Eaters have no spine. Did he even hear how he sounded?

"Just over here, boss," I lightly, placatingly, say. I try to keep my voice airy and calm but it's hard to concentrate when you have a six foot two hulking frame hovering over your own five foot six frame. He stares down at me and silently commands me to lead the way. I, being a good partner, do.

I brace myself for the wave of magic that's bound to flare from him when he sees the deceased child but it still knocks me flat on my ass. He's shivering with rage but what scares me the most is the lone tear that trails down his face. Boss NEVER cries.

Harry POV

I don't rein in my magic when it flares at the sight of the little girl because my anger has graduated to pure unfiltered rage. She was young, no more than eleven, and she was lying lifeless in some dark corner of Knockturn Alley. Her sandy brown hair is marred with dirt and her bright brown eyes are permanently widened, belying her state of shock before she was mercilessly killed.

I trace over the corpse before a lone teardrop escapes my eye at the sight of a curse mark I knew too fucking well. It was the mark left by a very specific curse, the same curse that nearly took Hermione from me. I slam my fist down into the concrete in rage and know immediately who the suspect is.

Antonin Dolohov.

The bastard was one of the few who continuously eluded me during my tenure as an Auror. He was one of the few remaining Death Eaters who didn't seem afraid of me. Now he was murdering little girls for fun. I'm going to enjoy killing him.

A part of me doesn't even need a background check to know the little girl is a muggleborn witch. The fucking blood purist was still carrying on with this blood supremacy tripe even after I beat his Dark Lord. I'm going to make sure I beat every last bit of this idea out of him before I kill him. I make that vow to the little girl in front of me.

Lyla kneels next to me and I could feel her gaze silently asking me if I know there's more to the case than I'm letting on but I mentally tell her to drop it. She does in an instant and offers me a comforting smile.

"What was the child's name?" I heard myself ask.

"Hannah Gordon."

I nodded and rose from my position. Lyla knows I'll be the one to inform the student's family of her death and takes my hand in hers. She is offering to come with me and it's all too easy for me to let her.

Lyla POV

We exit the family of Hannah Gordon's house and I could practically feel Boss' anger radiating off of him. I know he's frustrated and I know he's getting no sleep tonight. Neither am I, for that matter, and I can't help but think there are better ways to get no sleep than to just lie in bed all night.

"Hey Boss, I can tell you're frustrated. I am too," he turns to me, "maybe we can work out our frustrations together."

He considers it a moment but all of a sudden I'm in his house and he's shoving his tongue down my throat. He's so forceful and demanding that it becomes impossible for me to not be putty in his large hands. Soon my clothes are off and I'm on his bed as he strips off his own.

What happens next is simply inevitable. I do have to go into work next morning and I know I'll be walking split legged but I don't care. It was a small price to pay to get what I want. We get no sleep as promised but I end up positively exhausted at the end of it all.