Archive of Our Own

 Present

The table was shaking. He was pretty sure that if he thrust any harder, it would start to shift. Having been one of the people to move it around when he moved into the office, Harry knew it wasn't a good idea. It screeched like a bitch. He'd have to lay off a little. He slowed down.

"No, no. Please." Harry gritted his teeth, doing a monumental job of not giving in to that voice, like he always did. "Fuck, Harry please... harder." It was whispered, but urgent. The erotic sound of it made it even harder not to give in. He glanced over a bare shoulder, where the robe had slipped, to see their fingers entwined on the desk and felt the impatient tightening around his hand and his cock. He smiled to himself. Draco was anything but patient. He started to thrust shallowly into the body beneath him, the fabric of his pants rubbing against the pale exposed arse with each thrust forward; Draco's cock was caught between his abdomen and the hard, smooth wood of the desk. He moaned as every movement from Harry pushed him forward and then back, creating delicious friction.

Draco bent his head, his hair falling forward over an expression Harry was sure would have him coming faster if he could see it. He made do with the bright colour of his hair, the scent of it making him moan. Draco wore it an inch or two longer now than he did before, once he'd realised how much Harry liked to play with it. Harry remembered how his stomach had plummeted the day Draco had walked into work after his lunch break. His hair was so much shorter than it had been when he'd left. Draco hadn't known why all of a sudden Harry became snappy at everyone and consequently had no more meetings for the entire day.

Harry rested his head against the back of Draco's neck as he kept up the more sedate pace. His nose burrowed there, taking in Draco's scent amidst the wisps of blond where his hair fell over his shoulders. He panted heavily through his nose, the puffs of heat making Draco shiver underneath him. He really had been unbearable that day. He found it hard to understand why something as small and inconsequential as a haircut could drive him to distraction. But Draco's hair... it was like a landmark to him. So distinctive. Even in school, he'd always known where the blond was in relation to him by just one casual sweep of the hall or a corridor. It was how he'd found him again in somewhere as dank as Knockturn Alley two years ago.

Two Years ago

It had to be him.

Harry ducked around the corner. Knockturn Alley was no place to be seen in. He was only there for a meeting with a source that couldn't venture out into polite society. As Head Auror, Harry found he was not out in the field so much as signing papers day in and day out. After Kingsley decided he'd had enough and wanted to retire, Harry had been nominated to take over his position. He'd already graduated from training. Both he and his partner had a high close rate so, when he was nominated, no one was surprised when he got the job.

Two weeks in, Harry decided he hated it and wished he, too, could retire. Desk job work was not his forte. Neither were the meetings or the keeping up with politicians, foreign and domestic. He had to study, what kind of a job was that? The worst day so far was two days ago, where the explosion of that muggle artefact an Auror had seized on a raid caused so much trouble. Half of his department and a few visitors had been taken out. St. Mungo's was swamped. Harry disliked the amount of paperwork he had to swim through a day, but that incident made him wish he was dead. Hermione had told him to hire some help. Maybe he'd look into that. It didn't seem like such a bad idea now.

He shook his head as his basic training ran through is blood once more. After the war, Lucius had been given the kiss and Narcissa Malfoy, holed up in house arrest inside Malfoy Manor (which had been seized by the Ministry), had wasted away. Draco, being of age, had been evicted from the Manor. Since he was not under house arrest, nor found guilty for anything other than having unfortunate pickings in parents, Draco was set free. However, Harry pondered as he witnessed yet another shopkeeper push Malfoy away and slam the door, without money or anywhere to live freedom was rather subjective.

The man looked decidedly thinner and the unshaven beard was certainly distracting but his height was the same and so was that platinum blond hair – albeit a little dirtier than usual and mostly hidden underneath a ragged knitted hat. Eyeing Malfoy as he walked up into Borgin and Burke's, Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. How ironic Malfoy would go back into the place that once held his free will captive.

From the transcripts of Malfoy's interrogations, Voldemort had given him a chance to earn his Dark Mark. Upon realising that it wasn't exactly much of a motivator, the insane bastard had decided to hold Narcissa Malfoy captive, threatening to kill her if Draco Malfoy didn't deliver. He'd delivered – somewhat – but the only thing he'd earned had been a five minute stint under a Crucio. Harry still remembered pulling up Malfoy's sleeve in interrogation, livid because he didn't believe him (Veritaserum be damned), and exhaled as if he'd been punched in the stomach when all he'd seen there - ignoring the bruises - was clean, unblemished skin. That had been one of the first things to prove his innocence. Second on the list had been Harry's eye witness testimony.

He walked up to the shop and peered in through the window, his hood up, pretending to look at the dressings there. Malfoy was inside holding something shiny, but he couldn't see it very clearly. He could see the dark shape of his own reflection in the window, as well as the shop on the opposite side behind him, as a group of men walked out, talking to someone inside through the doorway. They made a lot of noise and he couldn't quite concentrate on what was going on. Against his own judgement, he walked up the steps and walked inside.

The shop floor was dark, as it always was, and Harry walked around, making sure his face was hidden at all times. It wasn't uncommon here to have customers that wanted to protect their identity so he knew he wouldn't seem suspicious – well, more suspicious anyway. He could hear the conversation had dropped a few decibels, but he also noticed that, with his appearance, Malfoy seemed more desperate to sell whatever he had in his possession. It made sense, as the prospect of a paying customer obviously outranked someone trying to get money out of the proprietor.

"Five galleons? It cost him two hundred!" Harry heard that familiar voice say in outrage.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Malfoy. Your daddy may have paid a pretty penny, but times have changed and, with its history, I doubt anyone would be willing to pay more than ten for it now." Borgin's face twisted into a greedy grin. He had the little shit and he knew it.

Harry could see the outline of Malfoy's profile. He looked devastated. Harry felt a smidgen of disgust at Borgin when he saw the blond nod and a wide triumphant leer settle on Borgin's face. The register opened and he pulled out a green book, marking down the purchase and taking what Harry could now see was a long silver chain. At the end of it held a locket. Harry turned away and moved back to the front of the store, glancing at the host of metallic picture frames leaning against the wall there. He could still hear the group of men out there and didn't realise they'd taken up so much of his attention until he saw Malfoy's familiar shape walking passed the window he was stationed at. His fingers poked out of the top of the fingerless gloves he was wearing as he pulled his hood up.

"Can I help you sir?" Harry heard behind him and turned. A rapidly paling face met him and he smiled. He missed field work so much.

.

He heard the thump of flesh first. It was only after he turned the corner that he saw Malfoy doubled over as a group – the same group he'd seen exit the store opposite Borgin and Burke's earlier – dragged him into a side alley. Harry cursed and began to run. It was his lunch-break and he'd only ventured out to see a confidential informant. His life shouldn't be so complicated anymore. Making his way quickly to the mouth of the side-alley, he nearly ran into the group as they walked out laughing.

"Fucking lightweight, I tell you. Like taking a canary cream from a-" the first man out pulled up short in front of Harry. "- Auror!"

Harry was pretty sure that's not how the saying went. He cocked his head. "What's this? A robbery?" He smiled. He could see Malfoy passed out behind them on the ground. He was breathing, at least.

A round of shocked faces met him. They obviously hadn't counted on being caught, or anyone caring, in Knocturn alley, let alone an Auror of all things.

The same man he'd nearly run into cleared his throat. "Er no, Auror..." he prompted.

Harry pulled back his hood and smiled. "Potter. Head Auror Potter." The surprised faces turned into horror as they realised who they were dealing with. It was times like these that Harry loved being himself. "You were saying?" he encouraged wanting to hear this cock and bull story.

Recovering slowly the man continued. "We were just recovering what he stole from me. Pick pocket, you see." He smiled rather convincingly.

"Hmm." Harry sounded rather unconvinced. "He stole – what – money?" His brow furrowed in question playing the responsible Auror trying to sort things out and not at all the Auror that had been following Malfoy for the past half hour. Getting the nod he was hoping for, Harry continued, "It wouldn't happen to have come in a small purple pouch with a black string and be exactly five galleons, would it?" Harry asked curiously. The man lost his smile and seemed rather nervous all of a sudden. Harry frowned some more. "Will you take it out and allow me to inspect it, sir?"

"W-why does it matter?"

Harry let his wand fall from his sleeve and gripped it in his right hand. "It matters because, not five minutes ago, I gave that money bag to him and then happened to turn the corner and see you pull him into this alley." He gestured with his wand as he spoke. "Now take out the pouch and allow me to inspect it, please. Following my confirmation that it is, in fact, my pouch, I will then charge you with theft and grievous bodily harm to the man lying passed out behind you. That is... unless you drop the pouch now and leave." The group watched each other before focussing on him once more in confusion. "The paperwork on this is going to be a bitch," he said by way of an explanation. "My lunch break is almost over and I haven't even eaten yet. You're not helping that." He pointed his wand in their direction. "What's your choice?"

It did not take long for them to run off, the small purple pouch landing on the ground with a soft clink. Harry knelt next to Malfoy's prone form. His fingers, poking out from the top of the gloves he wore, were ice cold and a black eye was forming on his left side. His nose and split lip would need attention too. Harry muttered a quick Episkey and cursed as he felt the first drop of rain. Stupid winter weather, he thought to himself as he lifted the blond, preparing to struggle and even cast a lightening charm. He felt surprise, expecting him to be heavier. Preparing to apparate, Harry stopped and thought. St. Mungo's was still swamped with people, they wouldn't even bat an eyelid at Malfoy. He stared down at the unconscious man in his arms. Really, all he needed was a bit of healing, some warmth, maybe some food and a little rest. He could do that. Malfoy would be out of his hair in no time.

Sighing, Harry said goodbye to his lunch break and spun in place to apparate home.

.

It was the next morning when Draco woke up. He looked around the room and frowned, wincing a bit at the pain in his nose. He sighed, knowing he had to have got a broken nose when he was attacked in the alleyway. He raised his hand to inspect it, but all he felt was small twinges of pain. Apparently he'd been healed. Sitting back to think, he also recognised the cold spell on his eye to stop swelling. Draco threw back the quilt, feeling really warm, and swung his legs around and off the bed. This was very disorienting. He paused as he viewed the bedside table, seeing a familiar pouch of money sitting next to another one in plain black.

Draco gasped, coming to an awful conclusion and shut his eyes in mortification. Had he really stooped so low? However, Draco thought to himself, he didn't feel any different. He didn't feel as if he'd had sex in any shape or form. Plus, he was dressed. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing a red jumper with a large capital H on it; What the fuck was that for? he wondered to himself. He shook his head not understanding any of it and glanced back over at the black pouch reaching for it. It was tied to the purple, which was definitely his so he assumed this was meant for him also. Underneath the pouch sat a slip of parchment. He picked that up too.

Hey Malfoy.
I have to show my face for the entire day today, since I didn't go back yesterday so make yourself at home, yeah?
Harry.

Draco frowned and looked back down to the capital letter. He shook his head in confusion and peeked inside the black pouch, gasping when he pulled out his mother's necklace.

What the fuck?

Present

Draco's hands let go of the edge of the desk above his head to slide over Harry's back, down the backs of his thighs, and up again. Their change in position had Harry hitting his prostate more often, so his fingers dug into Harry's shoulders, wrapped around the back of his neck and tangled in Harry's hair to find purchase on something - anything- to keep him anchored. Harry worked his way from Draco's mouth, to his ear and down to his neck. There was a groan of disappointment when Harry's mouth left his, but Harry's mouth couldn't be everywhere at the same time. One particularly hard thrust had Draco keening loud enough to be heard outside his office. Harry was glad he'd eventually cast that silencing spell.

Sinking into that tight heat again and again, Harry groaned, "How is it – you manage to stay so tight even after all this time?"

Draco laughed breathlessly as his hands switched back to the edge of the desk for leverage. He inadvertently caught the minutes of meeting he'd typed out an hour ago from Harry's meeting that morning. He then hit the container of food Harry'd brought for lunch to the floor. "Family secret," he said, a blissful smile on his face. "Never telling." His neck arched backward, the bruise Harry'd bitten into it moments ago showing clear as day. "Fuck!" he exclaimed and frowned up at his boss. He'd stopped completely and was staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"You knocked my lunch to the floor." It was his favourite too.

Draco turned his head on the desk to see most everything else that had once been there was also gone, except the in-tray. He turned back with a sheepish grin. "I'm sure I can make you some more."

Harry relished the surprised exhale he heard as he pulled Draco up to sit, perched at the edge of his desk with his legs now wrapped around Harry's waist for balance. "You'd better," he said before bruising the older man's lips with his own.

 

Two Years Ago – The Next Day

When he'd brought the man home, he'd expected to return from work the next day to an empty house. He'd left a note telling him he could clean up and even help himself to something to eat, if he wanted. He hadn't expected to see him sitting down on his couch, across from his warm fire, staring at his TV as if it held the answers to the universe, nor the tenth degree on how it worked. Harry hadn't really known what to tell him, so he'd dug in his kitchen drawer, the one that held all the instruction manuals for the appliances in his apartment. Hermione had told him once to keep them all together in case something happened. This was definitely something. The next day, he'd come home to see his kitchen appliances lined up on the counter with their manual counterparts in front of them.

"Malfoy?" he'd asked wearily. His day had been long enough without having to come home to this. He was sure the blond would have got fed up by now and moved on. Why was he still here?

"In here." He found Malfoy at the end of the corridor in his water heater cupboard. He was staring between the tank and the manual that came with it. Harry sighed and crossed his arms.

"What are you doing?" he asked tiredly. There'd been three raids today and two of his aurors had been hurt during them. Interviews and endless paperwork had been a bitch to sort out. Not to mention the unlawful arrest of two women who were now going to sue the department. He just wanted to collapse.

Draco stopped fiddling and looked up from his position, crouched on the ground. He took in Harry's appearance before continuing. "You told me to 'make myself comfortable'. The only way I can do that is if I know what all these contraptions do." He turned and stared at Harry. His clean shaven face made him look a lot younger than he had when Harry'd first found him. He was wearing one of Harry's old cotton shirts and grey sweatpants. He'd obviously gone through Harry's drawers to get them. Make yourself comfortable... sure. "Did you know you had a tank that heated your water? You can set it to heat hourly or daily or sporadically when you please." He went back to fiddling with buttons, referencing the manual Harry's apartment had come with when he wasn't sure.

Harry knew he could set it, he did it every day when he got home. However, he didn't know he could set it and leave it once for the same time every day. "Really?" That would save him so much time. Most nights he was so tired, he'd come home and fall asleep on the couch in his living room before the water had even finished boiling.

Malfoy just hummed in affirmative, his eyes glancing at Harry's every once in a while. "I ran you a bath. I was about to re-heat the tank when you came in. Didn't think you'd take so long to come home."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. The man had been in his apartment for only two days and, apparently, he was running it better than he did. Not to mention he was calling it 'home' "Er, thanks."

Malfoy shut the cupboard to let him pass. "You tend to come in the same time every day. Yesterday I saw you hit the button when you came in to make the water boil, but you fell asleep in front of your Samsung S series 62 inch flat screen before it heated and woke up this morning to more cold water. It's not healthy, Potter."

Harry continued to look surprised when Draco walked off back in the direction of his living room. It amused him that Draco referred to everything in his house by the names on the instruction booklets, but he didn't let that deter him from walking into his bathroom. The bath was hot, and he thought he'd died and gone to heaven when he could smell lavender. Hermione had given him the aromatherapy set for his birthday and the first time he'd tried the bath salts they'd been all gritty at the bottom of the tub. It wasn't the most enjoyable experience, so he'd never tried it again. It sat on the shelves in his bathroom ever since. Getting in, he groaned. So good. He relaxed for the first time for the day.

He woke up sometime later with sharp knocking on the door.

"Potter, are you still alive? My bath drawing skills are wondrous, but, if you fall asleep, you can still drown." The dry humour in the words made him roll his eyes, but he was grateful since the shock had him spluttering out water he'd suddenly inhaled.

"I'm up. I'm up," he said quickly and leaned forward to pull the plug in the bath. He sighed, feeling a lot more relaxed than he had when he came home.

"Good. There's something out here for you to eat when you get out."

Harry frowned and looked toward the bathroom door. What did he say? Rising up from the bath, he took a towel off the heated rack and wrapped it around his waist. He made a quick move to his bedroom to change before walking back out into the open space of his living room and kitchen. The manuals had all been put away except the one for his microwave. Draco sat at the island waiting for him. He looked a little nervous, but covered it well. On the island counter sat a plate of food he recognised as the leftovers in his fridge and a cup of tea. He raised his eyebrows and stared from the food to Draco. Cautiously, he sat on a stool.

Silence.

The silence seemed to be too much for the blond. He began to fill it with inane chatter, obviously taking Harry's silence as displeasure. "I found them in your Sharp Refrigerator." He missed Harry's small amused smile. "I actually had to re heat it in your Masterchef Microwave 4500." He fingered the instruction booklet in front of him, fidgeting in his seat before pulling the cuffs of the shirt he wore to cover his hands. "You were in there for a while." Harry still sat in silence. Malfoy seemed to be talking enough for the both of them and the rambling was kind of funny. "It said not to put anything reflective in there but your black cups have a reflective surface. They didn't spark or catch on fire like the manual said it would so I think it's okay. If it doesn't taste good-"

Ah. The heart of the matter. Thing is, Harry knew it would taste good. Mrs. Weasley cooked it, after all. Malfoy didn't have to know that, though. "It's fine Malfoy, thank you."

Finally Malfoy seemed to settle down. "So it's okay?"

Harry wondered if Malfoy knew re-heating pre-cooked food and cooking your own food were two different concepts. He nodded anyway. There wasn't any harm in it. It's not like the blond was going to start cooking.

Three more days of re-heated food, however, Harry came home to find his television moved to the middle of the room to face his kitchen, Malfoy over the stove and the trusty stove's instruction booklet cello-taped to an overhead cupboard. The TV had been paused on a brunette grating what looked like cheese over a plate of food on the Food Network. Malfoy, likewise, had scooped out what looked like some sort of vegetable pasta onto a plate and was also grating cheese. He picked up the Sky remote control next to him and un-paused the TV. He then brushed his hair back off his face, taking the hair band out and re-securing all the strands that had gotten out. Harry realised he was undetected and stayed that way for the time being.

"Oh, that smells delicious. I wish you could smell it with me." The brunette said before taking a bite. "Mmm, delicioso."

"It does doesn't it, Giada?" he heard Malfoy saying to himself, as he lowered his hands from his head and bent over to smell the dish himself. "Not bad for a third try."

Harry shut the door behind him. Malfoy spun around, startled out of his skin, and nearly knocked over a measuring jug he had on the island counter, where he'd based his operations. "Potter!" he said. There was a tremor to his voice as he righted the jug. "You're back early."

Harry moved away from the door, eyeing the state of his kitchen. His keys dangled in his hand as he walked slowly into his kitchen, looking around. "Apparently. Being head of my department has its advantages - What's going on here?" The past few days when he came home, the entire place had been spotless. Seems he had no idea what really went on in his home when he wasn't there.

"I'm cooking."

Harry turned to stare at him and then down at the plate. "Why?" It was the oddest sight he'd ever witnessed.

Malfoy looked as if that were the strangest question in the world. "You don't have any more food in your Sharp Refridgerator. I've been studying the culinary arts since this morning, and it turned out you had the ingredients, so I tried it out once or twice."

Or thrice. Harry thought to himself as he looked around. He leaned on the only untouched counter available. The floor had sprinklings of a red sauce on it, but it wasn't anything a mop or spell couldn't clean. The dusting of flour he could see reached a tad further, even getting on the blond's legs-

Harry paused. Draco wasn't wearing any pants. He quickly looked up and away, fighting down the blush he knew had to be visible on his face. When he looked back at Malfoy, the man seemed to be shrinking in on himself. His mouth opened once or twice, but shut before anything else could be said. He bit his bottom lip.

"Are you angry?" Harry heard.

He'd obviously taken the reddening of Harry's face to be something else entirely and Harry definitely didn't mind. He thought for a moment. Was he angry? His kitchen looked like a bomb hit it, but the smell coming from his stove was really good. Besides, Draco did seem to be cooking it for him. He sighed and opened a drawer. "That depends."

Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows. "On?"

Harry withdrew a fork from the drawer and walked over to the island counter, sidestepping the patches of sauce he could see on the ground. "Well, it smells good. But how good does it taste?" He took a seat on one of the stools around the island and pulled the plate to him. "Have you tasted it yet?"

He could see Malfoy was still unsure, but he was more relaxed now and just shook his head. Harry tutted and turned the fork around in his hand. "Then by all means. There's something wrong when the cook doesn't sample his own creation."

Malfoy took the fork, but smirked nonetheless. "You think I want to poison you?" he asked.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Do you?" he challenged with an amused expression.

Malfoy, gaining more confidence, just rolled his eyes. "Not with all this effort to make some fucking ravioli. I'd rather drown you in the bath." He took up a forkful and put it in his mouth, using his hand underneath it to catch any spillage. Harry watched his tongue subtly caress the underside of the tines and cleared his throat, looking away, his eyes catching on the television again as Alton Brown made his appearance speaking his science-food-talk. When he looked back, Draco was holding the fork out to him. He took it gratefully and dug in.

He was eating happily when he suddenly realised Malfoy was watching him. It hit him that the blond was waiting for a verdict. He was biting his lip again. Harry noted that he did that when he was anxious. "Oh," he said surprised, "this is good."

"Really?" he asked. There was hope in his tone.

Harry laughed. "If you're fishing for compliments, you get them all out of me. You did good, though it looks like you destroyed my kitchen in the process."

Malfoy waved it off. "It's easily fixed with a wand." He dragged the other stool over and sat down, grabbing his wand on the way. He uttered a quick cleaning spell on the floor and the counters. Instantly the area was clean again. He rest his wand down and stared at Harry as he ate and watched the TV. He did seem to be enjoying the meal. Scratching his head, he ploughed ahead. "Potter." He waited.

"Hmm?" Harry said with his mouth full. When there was more silence, he looked over in question. He looked guarded when Malfoy seemed to be approaching the topic with unease. He swallowed. "What?" he asked sounding cautious. He put down his fork.

"No, it's nothing bad like that!" the blond rushed to reassure. "Well, not bad per se."

Harry sat up straight now, feeling uneasy with the roundabout statements. "Malfoy, what is it?" He waited.

The blond was fidgeting with his fingers where he sat. With his hair tied up, only the shortest parts at the scruff of his neck had come out again. He was wearing another one of Harry's shirts. He'd have to have a word with him about that. "Um. I just noticed that you er... seemed to be very tired a lot and you tend to fall asleep before you can do anything." He was speaking calmly as if he was preparing Harry for something.

Harry didn't like it. "I have a busy job, Malfoy."

The defensive answer made Draco snap his attention to the brunet. "I get that!" he said quickly to placate him. "I do." His hands were palm-flat on the counter. Harry's Auror instincts kicked in. He's trying to assert a point, not knowing if I'll like it. "I'm just saying your job can lead to you not looking after yourself very well... or your house."

Harry was confused. What the hell does that mean? "And?" he said snapping. He wished Malfoy would just spit it out.

"Well," the blond continued looking back down at the counter. Here it comes. "If I'm here on a more... permanent basis, I could do that for you." A guarded look came at him, waiting for his reaction. Harry was caught between bewilderment and suspicion.

He narrowed his eyes in thought and tried out a guess to what Malfoy could be saying. "You want... to look after me?"

Malfoy's mouth was forming words, though he didn't express any of them. Then he said, "N- well... kind of but not how you put it."

Not how I put it? Harry thought. Okay. He tried again. "Oh. So you want to be... like a maid, or something?"

Malfoy seemed put out at that. "Oh. Do you really have to put it like that?" he said sounding disappointed.

Harry spluttered. "How else should I put it? You want to stay in my home in exchange for cooking and cleaning. Right?" he elaborated.

Malfoy dropped his head into his folded arms and shook his head. "Can't you say something more dignified?" It was muffled in his arms before he sat up, his face pink with embarrassment. "Like, housekeeper or something?"

Housekeeper? This was all too bizarre. "Fine, housekeeper then." He glanced at his plate, wondering when he could get back to his meal. "You want to be tha-" Suddenly, something occurred to him. "Wait. Is this why you've been cleaning my house and running me baths all week?" He looked again at the plate of ravioli. "And cooking? Was this like a job interview?" He looked around and saw the stove instruction booklet cello-taped to the overhead cupboard. The blond had been studying those things like Hermione at end of term since he'd discovered them. Oh my god. "Merlin's balls! You've been plotting for a way to stay here, haven't you?" That's why he hasn't left yet. Harry laughed incredulously. He stood up and gestured to the plate and the kitchen. "And this is the best way you came up with? Becoming my maid?"

Draco stood up too. "Housekeeper."

Harry scoffed. "Oh, what-the fuck-ever, Malfoy, why didn't you just ask?" he let out, frustrated.

Malfoy looked at him like he was crazy. "You wouldn't have said yes! At least this way I serve some purpose!" He took a breath and looked away. "You've... been nice to me." He sat back down. "I thought if I repaid that – maybe show you a skill I had that you could use, you'd let me stay." He was pretending to study his nails when he was done.

Harry ran his hands through his hair and took a deep heaving breath. Fucking Slytherins and their inability to deal with something straight on. "Malfoy-" He stopped himself and took a calming breath. "Draco." That got his attention. "You've been in my house now, for free, for almost a week and a half. With everything you've done," he added carefully, his hand gesturing carefully towards the blond, "it took me until now to realise your efforts, and that's only because of your prompting. Now, tell me, do you think I would have said no?"

Draco looked a little taken back at that.

When he was met with silence, Harry continued. "A couple days ago I kept expecting to open my door to an empty space. Now I open it wondering what you've been keeping yourself busy with. Today..." He looked around with an amused chuckle. "Today took the cake as far as I'm concerned." He got up. "I ran away from work, partly because you discovering things in my apartment has actually become a daily treat for me. I think you actually know more about my apartment than I do." He shook his head. He was too tired to deal with this now. "You know what? You're hired. If you can make things like this, after only a day of studying it, I don't care." He scratched his head. "Is the hot water on?" he asked and leaned on the counter, picking up his fork again.

"You're not angry anymore?" Draco asked him, a little perturbed that he'd gotten an affirmative answer so quickly.

Harry turned to look at him and took off his glasses. "You need to work on getting to know your employer, Ma – Draco. I value honesty over everything else. I wasn't angry, I was just surprised you would go to such a length to stay in my home." He scoffed. "Didn't know it was so attractive."

Draco scoffed in kind. "You didn't see where I was sleeping before." He got up. "Finish eating. I'll run your bath." He walked off toward the corridor. Harry watched him, his eyesight falling down, down and down to the blond's legs. He rolled his eyes at himself.

"Hey, Draco." Draco stopped just as he disappeared behind the wall. He poked his head around and looked at him in question. Harry swallowed his mouthful. "I really didn't see your efforts for what they were, but I want you to know they were appreciated all the same. Thank you. My home hasn't looked so good since I first moved in." Draco actually gave him a small smile and nodded before turning away. "Oh and, Draco?" He felt an amused chuckle vibrate his throat as the blond turned around again, this time crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes?" he said even though Harry knew he meant 'What the fuck do you want now?'.

Harry gestured to his bare legs. "I know I have trousers of all sorts in the drawer you get those shirts from. Wear them, would you? Your legs are distracting." He speared ravioli onto his fork.

Uncrossing his arms, Draco looked down. His brows furrowed, he glanced up to ask what Harry meant by that but the brunet had re-engaged himself in the TV. Leaving the matter where it was, he instead made his way down the corridor to the bathroom.

Present

Harry held Draco tighter to him as he fell back into his office chair, the gravity of his action driving him into Draco harder than before. A loud gasp sounded in his ears as the blond froze in shock, his legs tightening to the side of him and his mouth hanging open as he bent his head forward. Harry leaned forward and saw Draco's eyes watching him, begging, Harry thought, for some kind of mercy on his part. Reaching inside of the blond's robes to feel the intense heat of his skin, Harry pulled him closer, if it were possible, and helped Draco lift himself clear off the spot that was making him unable to speak. Once he was, his voice box kicked in, allowing him to form some version of words, though they made no sense. Harry tilted his head up to catch them, swallow them down. "That's it," Harry groaned into Draco's mouth as Draco tightened around him on his descent.

The tinkling of a bell made Harry look up.

Draco took hold of the top of Harry's high-back desk chair. He rested his forehead against Harry's temple. "Your two o'clock must be here. She said-" A gasp punctuated his speech "-she's from Sports and Utilities." Draco shut his eyes tight and had to stop talking as Harry's cock dragged across his prostate once more. He moved back to get some air, his hands finding purchase in a single sheet from the newspaper Harry'd swiped off not half an hour before "Fucking Quidditch World Cup security contract." He'd said it with difficulty, but he'd made sure he said it nonetheless, his hand scrunching up the paper in his fist.

Harry smiled. That was his trusty assistant, always had his mind on the job. Perhaps it was time to change that. He took the newspaper Draco had fisted in his hand and made him let it go, throwing it into the rubbish bin by his desk.

One Year Ten Months Ago

Draco frowned at the sound the heavy missile made as it hit the rubbish bin. Harry walked past the kitchen. "Hey," Draco said testing the waters.

Harry collapsed on the couch in the living room and covered his face with his hands. "Hey."

Okay, not so bad. Angling his head past the book of charms he'd been poring over, so he could see the newspaper clearly, Draco frowned. "Bad day?" he asked, looking up at the brunet who hadn't moved since he sat down. He turned down the rice boiling on the stove and chanted the charm he'd need to keep it from burning. He referenced back to the book to make sure he'd done it right. Satisfied, he moved into the living room and sat down on the coffee table in front of the Head Auror. He slapped him sideways on the knee. "Hey."

Harry moved his hands and glanced at him through his fingers.

"Bad day?" he reiterated. Their rapport since he'd been officially employed nine weeks ago had gotten much better,once Draco stopped trying to manipulate a better living situation for himself (and since he started wearing pants in the house).

Harry groaned and covered himself back up, this time pulling up his hood until it comically covered his whole head. "I want to die, and retire, and never go back to work again."

"In that order?" Draco asked. Harry just scoffed and remained silent. Draco narrowed his eyes and slapped him again, harder.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed rubbing the side of his knee. His glare went unseen, though, since the hood still ridiculously covered his head.

Draco was unmoved. Now that he had permanent employment, he'd shed the nerves. "Hey yourself. What happened?" He crossed his arms.

Harry pulled back his hood. "It's too much work. I don't know how Kingsley did it. Paperwork up to my balls, meetings every day. I don't know how he did all of that and had time to sleep, especially with all the background stuff."

"Background stuff?" Draco asked.

Harry was waving it off like it didn't matter. "Non-Auror stuff that still has to do with Auroring."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Auroring?" He was smiling. "Now I know you're tired," he laughed. He ignored Harry's 'shut up' and sobered. "It sounds like you're doing it all on your own, don't you have a secretary?" he inquired.

Harry shook his head. "I wish." He heaved a sigh. "There isn't enough in the budget for a secretary for my position anyway." He moaned and threw his head back against the cushions. "I have to do research. How shitty is that? I already asked Hermione to help but she's got her own problems in her department as it is. I can't ask her to keep up with my work too."

Draco wasn't particularly bothered, but felt he should ask anyway for the sake of keeping the peace. "What about Weasley?"

Harry looked at him, like he was wondering why he was asking, but he answered anyway shaking his head. "He's an Auror in the field. He wouldn't know any of these things anyway."

"What things?" He remembered what he said earlier. "Wait, you have to do research? On what?"

Harry snorted. "Bloody diplomats coming in for the Wizard's Conglomerate." He sighed. "Security has to be outlined, as well as scheduled. There's one of them from Russia coming in soon. No idea when though."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Are you talking about Nicolai Peski?" he asked. He sat up, looking over the counters to the kitchen. His eyes narrowed at the hiss from the stove and he got up.

Harry looked up at him as he began walking away. "Yeah," he said slowly. "How did you know that?"

Draco turned off the stove and crouched down to look for a colander in the bottom cupboard. "His daughter's birthday is coming up, he's supposed to bring her to a rendition of Les Misérables for her eighteenth. Nice girl. Pretty. Should be here by the twenty-eighth." He used his wand to pour the hot rice over the colander in the sink. This whole cooking thing is a lot easier after practice, he thought to himself. When he levitated the colander to sit in the pot on the stove again, he turned and jumped to see Harry standing right next to him. "What?"

"How did you know all that?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "It was in the newspaper."

Harry looked down to the newspaper that was still in the bin. The headline screamed 'FOREIGN DIPLOMATS TRAVEL TO 75TH WIZARDING CONGLOMERATE.' "I scoured that newspaper for a date. I didn't find one. You haven't even picked it up." His gaze rose to the blond once more.

Draco frowned. Harry sounded suspicious. "Not that one. It must have been-" He thought back "-I don't know, two months ago? It was in the society pages." At Harry's confused frown, he cocked an eyebrow as he took out two plates. "I did sometimes read the newspapers I slept on, you know." He placed the two plates in the microwave. "Your bath is ready. Hurry up."

Harry dumbly walked toward the bathroom before stopping. He turned to face the blond. "Draco-" He paused. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything." He took another pause as an idea struck him. He walked back to the kitchen. Draco was watching him puzzled.

"If you don't hurry up your bath will get c-" Harry stopped him with a hand on his mouth.

"Fuck the bath – listen." He ignored Draco's indignant look and continued. "I have a proposition for you."

Present

He'd never made such a good decision before. Well, he thought, as he sank into his assistant's tight arse again and again, maybe I have since. The tinkling was coming faster now. Obviously his two o'clock, now his two-fifteen, was getting restless. Frankly, Harry couldn't care less, not when he had such a glorious sight before him. Draco laid back to rest his shoulders on the desk, his back arching impossibly as he undulated on his cock. He looked a little out of his mind with his hands in his hair like that. He'd have a hell of a time trying to comb it out later. Harry couldn't take his eyes away.

"Re-res-fuck reschedule," Draco was murmuring in a low voice. His right hand suddenly moving from his wet forehead to reach toward the four-tier trays Harry had perched on the corner of the desk. The only reason it had stayed put was because Draco had cemented it there with a sticking spell some time ago. His hand moved back and forth, toward and away as Harry thrust into him, but he was determined to reach it. "Fuck, Harry stop." His breathless voice, though winded, was resolute and Harry did stop. Draco finally sat up and stretched for the trays taking out a blank sheet of parchment before uselessly searching for a quill on the otherwise empty desk. Everything else lay on the floor and all of it was out of reach. His wand was there too. "Shit."

"What?" Harry asked and rolled his lips into his mouth in amusement. Draco narrowed his eyes at him. He spotted a lone quill on the ground behind him by Harry's feet. Leaving the paper on the desk, he bent until his fingers brushed the feather of it. He startled when Harry moved the chair, sighing, and opened his drawer, withdrawing a quill and inkpot. Draco took them silently and began to write, despite the slight tremors in his hands and his quickened breathing. Harry watched as his hair fell forward over his eyes, taking his hands to brush it back behind his ear. He couldn't wait until Draco saw it in the mirror. Draco looked up at him as his left hand wrote, his eyes narrowing playfully as he flashed him a small smile. He finished with a full stop and then wrote Harry's name in full block capitals. He tugged out Harry's drawer again looking for a straight edge. He found an old Christmas card and held it up, shaking his head at his boss, before using it to draw a line over his name. He held out the quill. "Sign here," he instructed.

Harry read over the words, not deigning to remove his hand from Draco's thigh. "and what emergency have I been called away to?" he asked mildy.

Draco swatted him upside the head and held out the quill again. Harry sighed and finally took it, signing his name and crossing his Ts with a flourish. Draco cocked an eyebrow at him before rolling his eyes. Harry retaliated with a shift of his hips that had the blond pausing and glaring at him. Harry watched him in wonder. Was this the same man who'd just been speechless with desire not two minutes ago? Draco reached behind him to another drawer and took out the blue self-melting wax stick. It began to ooze once it touched the parchment Draco had just rolled. Dropping it back into the drawer, he took Harry's hand off his other thigh and pressed the Head of Department ring on his middle finger into the wax. He waited, watching as it hardened and sealed. "Send it outside. She's still standing at my desk." When Harry just stared at him, he sighed impatiently. "If you send her a handwritten apology she is less likely to kick up a fuss and demand where you were when you were supposed to be at your desk on duty," he explained slowly as if he were talking to a four year old. "Me too, actually."

Harry coaxed him closer. "It's not like your position is in danger. You're not on the ministry payroll, you're on mine." His hands resettled on Draco's hips, leaning forward for a kiss, but he was rebuffed when Draco turned away, still holding out the parchment in his hand. Harry took the damn roll and, using his wand in his drawer, sent it outside.

"You'll thank me."

Harry knew he would, that's what made it so irritating. He could learn a thing or two from Draco. Slytherins knew how to manipulate people for their own gain. Harry was more of a risk taker, letting what would come when it happened. He was always like that. But Draco, after learning not to use his powers on his boss, used them for the greater good - ensuring his boss stayed out of trouble. It was okay, since, essentially, that's what Harry paid him for: making sure Harry didn't get any negative feedback that would bite him in the arse. Not even from his personnel. He liked that the most about his assistant. He always had his back, even when he didn't know it.

One Year and Four Months Ago

"Hey Malfoy."

Draco looked up from his desk. It was rounded at one side and stopped in front of Harry's door on the other. He'd set up a ward there to stop people from walking straight past him. He loved the looks on their faces when they thought they'd bested him. It was priceless.

There was a pause. "I like what you've done to your hair. The short cut's different."

"Thank you Finnigan." He only wished he could get a reaction like that from Harry. The bastard hadn't even said anything about it, unless one counted the stony face and tone he'd taken up since. He put down his quill. "Here to see Harry?" When it came to personnel, Draco always stopped to listen. He'd been there for six months now and the crew of Aurors had gotten used to seeing his face every day. It helped that he came in with Harry every morning and that Weasley had known about it ahead of time. He winced remembering the day the red-head had just flooed in to see the current residents eating dinner like nothing was wrong.

What utter chaos that had been.

Seamus looked sheepish. "Yeah, I er, just wanted a talk if he has some spare time."

"Oh sure. Can I ask what it's about or is it private?"

"Well, it's kind of private but I – um, my wife... she's ill and I need some more time off, you know?" Draco was well aware of Seamus' wife being ill. Some kind of affliction from the war that never went away. It had gotten worse in recent months and Finnigan took time off every month to look after her; he couldn't afford daily care every day.

"How is she? Is there any..." The sad look on his face told him everything he needed to know. "Okay," he said softly. He searched through his drawer of copied personnel files he kept and went through the leave forms under Finnigan's file. "Oh. You've used up all your time." He looked up to see Finnigan fidgeting.

"That's kind of why need to talk to Harry. I need to see if he can get me any more time off. Special circumstances and all." Draco nodded, already knowing how that conversation would go. Harry was in a serious bad mood lately, though no one had any idea why. Not even cornering the brunet at home got him anywhere.

"Look, Harry really can't do anything about getting you more leave because it isn't him that authorises it, but Human Resource, yeah?"

"But-"

Draco put up his finger and made a serious face. "Hey! Let me finish." Finnigan looked upset but amused. He nodded for Draco to continue. Draco stood up and undid the ward before locking his desk. "Sit here," he said rifling through the last unlocked drawer he had and taking out a leave of absence form. As Seamus crossed the ward, Draco put it back up again. While the Irishman sat down, Draco began filling out the form. Seamus frowned when he saw Draco was putting Seamus' name on it. He opened his mouth to speak when Draco pointed his finger again. He gave a small grin and settled back down. "Good boy. See? Gryffindors can be trained." He looked around the department. "Tell anyone I did this and you are dead, hear me?" He got a nod. "Good, now keep an eye out and make sure no one disrupts me." He stood straight and walked into Harry's office.

Harry looked up, sighing when he saw Draco walk in. His eyes moving from the blond's face to his hair and back again. His jaw clenched but he let it go reading through the reports he'd just received from last week's stakeout.

Draco sat down in the chair across from him. Harry frowned when Draco didn't start talking. Looking up, he gestured and said, "What?"

Draco put on a surprised look and said, "Oh, were you finished already? I was waiting in case you wanted to rip off my head too."

Harry put down his quill and heaved a heavy breath. "Draco."

"I need a leave of absence."

Harry's gaze snapped to him immediately. "What." It was flat and hardly sounded like a question.

Draco leaned forward and gave him the form. "I've already filled it out. There are sixteen days I'm allowed every six months. I want to start on Saturday – three weekends, two weeks. That's ten days."

Harry looked from him to the form. "Draco, this has Seamus' name on it." He glanced at the blond. "Is this some sort of joke?"

Draco sat forward. "Not at all. You see I'm so generous, we're switching places and I'm giving Seamus my days. I always wanted to be an Auror, I think I'll try it out for ten days, see what happens."

Harry looked like the world was put on his shoulders. "Draco, you're not even on the ministry's payroll."

"No, I'm on yours." Draco glared at him. "What is your problem? You have a friend out there, whose wife is dying." He got up to storm out walking across the dark blue carpet like an avenging angel. As his hand hit the door handle, he heard a sigh before Harry stopped him.

"Draco, wait." He did stop but he didn't turn around. "I can't look the other way if he wants to take more leave." Draco turned to look at him, conveying in his expression that ifthat's what he wanted to tell him, he shouldn't have bothered talking. "I can't... but-" He rubbed his forehead in thought. "If he can get her into the hospital before next week Monday-" He pulled the leave form toward him, and circled a check-box before signing the bottom. "If he can do that, the form may just hold." He held it up for him and shook it when Draco didn't move. Draco crossed the room and took the form stopping only when Harry kept hold of it. "I'm not making any promises but if push comes to shove, I'll fight for him." Draco nodded. He frowned when Harry still wouldn't let it go.

"What?" he asked unnerved by the way the brunet stared at him. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

Harry shook his head and let the form go. "Doesn't matter."

Draco took the form and went outside. Seamus stood up when Draco came out.

"Well?" He seemed nervous.

"Can you get your wife into a hospital before Monday? Is she sick enough for that?"

"I-" He wanted to say no, but he knew that it wasn't the truth. Not able to say it, he just nodded.

Draco swallowed. "Okay then. The rosters for the month come out tomorrow. I'll get Christian to put you on Shift Team A, they have the next three weekends off. You can get ten weekdays, starting next week. I'll file this on Monday when you call in to say you can't come in." He held up the form for Seamus to see. The type of leave circled was other and under it Harry had written Emergency. "And you will call in on Monday to say you can't come in," he instructed.

"Emergenc..." He looked up to see Draco smiling at him. "Oh, Merlin, thank you." He pulled Draco into a hug. "Slytherin or not, I'm so grateful."

Draco shook his head. "Don't thank me, thank your boss."

"Hey Draco-" Harry paused seeing his assistant being hugged by one of his personnel, he didn't even feel his quill snap.

Seamus turned around, letting Draco go in the process. "Harry! Harry, mate, I knew we didn't do wrong when we nominated you for the job." Harry was subjected to a hug before the Irishman rushed back to his cubicle.

"Was there something you wanted, Harry?" Harry totally forgot what it was he wanted upon seeing Draco in Seamus' arms. Christ, seriously? He couldn't believe it. "Um, a quill. I snapped mine."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You and your temper. You really need to tell me what's bothering you." He handed him a new quill from the box of ten he had in his desk drawer.

Harry took it thanking him and he turned around. Besides the atrocity you did to your hair and my apparent new found want of you? Not bloody likely. He shut the door behind him and hung his head. Fuck. And I have to live with you. This is not fair.

Present

Draco moaned and tightened like a vice as a warning sign to Harry, who, once again, had him laid out on the table like a delicacy. He sped up his thrusts to go deeper, faster, still torturing Draco beneath him. Draco's breath hitched at each thrust, but his legs were too tired to hold up anymore. Harry pulled him up, eyeing the pale flesh that came into view when the robe fell from his right shoulder. Harry licked and sucked over the sensitive skin, from shoulder to neck, feeling the vibrations of the hum Draco gave him in reward. He loved that sound.

Hands moulding to the skin of his legs, the legs he could never take his eyes from, he locked his left hand under Draco's right knee and pulled it upward, angling to the left, before thrusting his way home. Draco's arms, hooked around Harry's naked shoulders, the Head Auror's robe long gone, tightened as Harry leaned them to the side. It all became too much for Draco, though, and he shuddered and came, his release spurting between them. Harry groaned as the tight channel he was currently pounding into became even tighter and burrowed himself into his favourite place by the juncture of Draco's neck where it met his shoulder. He sunk his teeth in, bracing himself for his orgasm as it took him over, but he cried out anyway through his release, not stopping the movement of his hips until he was completely drained. God but he loved this man. He only wished he hadn't waited so long to tell him.

Eleven Months Ago

Those legs. They'd be the death of him, he was sure.

Harry found him on his couch. He'd come home late, much later than he liked, and gone straight into the bathroom after seeing him there. Draco had come home ages before. He vaguely remembered being asked what he wanted for dinner, before the blond disappeared in the floo. He could smell the dinner his housekeeper-come-Personal Assistant had made for him and, even now, faded as the scent was, it made his mouth water.

Everything he did made his mouth water, from filing a report down to running his bath and falling asleep on his couch.

Over a year now he'd been living with him and still everything the blond did made him crazy. Just the other day Draco had scolded him for using a Dilapidus charm, because it never gave him a close enough shave and he was sure to have a five o'clock shadow by the end of the day. He'd then been scolded for having a proper blade locked away in a cupboard just because he didn't know how to use it. Teddy had given him that one Christmas, likely with financial help from his grandmother, but still... it was the thought that counted. And the way Draco had straddled him in the bathroom, to get as close as possible to shave him, had him wishing he could think of damn near anything else. Harry never thought he'd need that image of Dudley, when he'd accidentally walked in on him naked as a child, but he thanked God he had it then.

"Draco" he said quietly nudging the sleeping man. "You can't stay out here, you'll catch a cold." Draco didn't do anything except turn over, taking most of the quilt with him and showing once again he wasn't wearing anything on his legs. Harry stepped back as if he'd been burned. Four months ago he'd realised why he found Draco's legs so distracting, why he hated any man that came near him.

Why everything he did made Harry crazy.

Harry took a deep breath and did the same thing he'd been trying to do since he realised. The only thing he could do to survive living with the man. He buried it. "Draco," he came forward to shake him again, maybe this time a little too hard because Draco woke up immediately frowning at him.

The blond brushed back the hair that had covered his face and squinted in the light. Harry remembered Draco cornering him, asking why he didn't have the balls to tell him he didn't like his haircut a couple months ago and why he had to find out from Weasley of all people. Even though he'd been angry at Ron for letting it spill, he was glad Draco was letting it grow back. "Fuck, Harry, what? I'm tired."

"You'll catch a cold if you sleep out here." Harry sat on the coffee table. He'd get up in a moment and go straight in his bed. He was knackered.

"Have you eaten?" He looked up to see Draco staring at him. Harry knew Draco had a sixth sense for him lying so he shook his head. "Honestly, Harry, what do you keep me for, if you don't eat?" It was a joke, and rhetorical, he knew that.

Harry smiled tiredly in response anyway, he knew exactly what he kept Draco around for and it wasn't to cook his meals. Not anymore.

"What?" Draco asked him, his voice suddenly sharp.

Harry looked up again, fear inch-by-inch filling him with adrenaline, waking him up. "Nothing." Fuck. Had he said that out loud? Shit, please don't let me have said that out loud.He stood up. "I'll have some of what you made, what is it – soup?" He moved to the kitchen and checked in the pot on the stove lifting the lid. "Oh. It is soup. Cool."

The lid was suddenly taken from his grip and slammed down onto the pot.

"You're lying to me." Draco was standing next to him, angry and still wearing nothing on his legs. Harry's eyes gravitated down and he turned away to sit at the island. Avert your eyes, Harry, avert them. Good, yes, just like that.

"Oh? What am I lying about now?" He rested his head on his arms. Even better, now you can't see anything.

"Look at me, Harry."

Oh no, you devilman, I know better than to fall for that trick.

Then, Draco changed tactics. "Tell me why my legs are so distracting to you, Harry."

Silence.

"What?" came Harry's muffled reply.

"The first time I cooked for you, you told me that I had to wear a pair of pants in the house because my legs were distracting."

Harry couldn't see what Draco was doing, but there was still silence and he ached to find out where the blond was. Turning his head to look in the direction he last heard his voice, Harry opened his eyes and jumped up when he saw Draco so close. The blond sat on the other stool and leaned on the island next to him propping his head on his hand just waiting for Harry to turn.

Draco narrowed his eyes keenly, taking in Harry's reaction. "So jumpy." Harry stood up. Apparently, current methods weren't working. Evasive measures were necessary.

It was time to run.

Draco sat up as Harry got off his stool. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"Harry," Draco said.

"Goodnight, Draco." He tried to keep his escape casual, but he could feel Draco behind him as he walked.

"Harry." Still no answer. Just a little closer to his bedroom door. "Harry." Harry felt his breath leave him as he was pushed into his room. He landed on the bed only to be wrestled onto his back as Draco sat astride him. "Stop running away from me," he said slowly, slapping him on the arm, chest and shoulder to punctuate his words until Harry finally gave up. "I live here too. You're going to have to talk to me eventually." It was said so simply, but Harry still felt like a fool.

Harry sighed and gave up. He nodded, staring straight up at the ceiling.

Draco, satisfied, let him go and sat back. Harry shut his eyes and swallowed. Of all the places to sit, he has to sit there?

"Now," Draco said getting comfortable, "Finnigan tells me he keeps seeing you glaring at him and anyone else who talks to me. He also says that you keep staring at me." Draco crossed his arms. He was obviously waiting for an answer but Harry hadn't heard a question.

"Seamus is delusional."

"Finnigan has no reason to lie." The 'you do' went unsaid.

Harry kept silent. "Draco, what do you want from me? I don't – what?" He let his hands fall to his sides after his vague gesturing.

Draco let out a single humourless chuckle. "I forgot. 'Get to know your employer who values honesty over anything'" Harry shut his eyes as Draco threw that back in his face. "Just ask, right?" Draco leaned forward, the shifting in his body weight making Harry conjure up that naked image of Dudley again. He felt fingers sifting through his hair and hot breath in his ear. "Fine. Just how much do you want me, Harry?"

He was playing with him. Harry opened his eyes, seeing the blond biting on his lower lip. He frowned. Anxiety? He didn't understand, if anyone had the right to be nervous it was Harry. But Draco only did that when he was worried or undecided. Harry continued looking at him until Draco seemed to lose his edge and began to back away, but Harry kept him still by securing his arms around him and turning them over on his bed. He propped himself up on his forearm and leaned to the side, allowing his hand, that was on Draco's hip, to travel down slowly. He heard Draco's hitch in breath and let his eyes snap to him, before following his hand once more. "Your legs distract me because they're fucking gorgeous." He watched his hand as it traversed its way back up Draco's thigh. "You distract me because you're fucking gorgeous," he added looking at him dead on. He leaned down. "Seamus annoys me because he's always hugging you and the others infuriate me because I'm... not them."

Draco looked confused. "You talk to me all the time."

Harry shook his head. "Not like that."

"Like what."

"Like I want to. Like they do. They want you and you show them interest. I don't get that."

Draco actually laughed like he was being driven mad. "Are you fucking kidding me? Oh Merlin. I keep forgetting my boss is a Gryffindor. You know what? Fuck it. You want straightforward?" He pulled Harry down with his hands, securing them in his hair and around his shoulders, and kissed him ferociously. Harry was taken by surprise but let himself go, allowing the older man to slip his tongue into his mouth and groaned into the kiss. Draco felt the heaviness of Harry's weight on him as he relaxed and moved his kisses from his mouth to his neck, teasing a delicious spot that made Harry shiver. Harry groaned, seeking friction, and Draco circled his hips to meet his corresponding hardness. He buried his head in Draco's neck. He could feel Draco's fingers sifting through his hair and he sighed in comfort, this could very well become a favourite place of his.

Present

He fell into his desk chair once more, Draco landing on top of him, still rocking his hips softly as he came down from his high and every once in a while brushing over his hypersensitive prostate; the effect each time it happened was a small, violent tremor that wracked his body and created goose bumps on his skin. Draco shuddered, shivering from the cooling sweat on his chest. Harry, finally easing his hold on him, sat back after placing a final kiss where he'd bitten into Draco's neck. He heard the blond hiss and whimper when he adjusted himself in his seat, Draco's own weight keeping him inside him. He rubbed his hand up and down Draco's back.

"I could sleep right now," Draco said yawning into Harry's collarbone.

"Hmm," Harry hummed in agreement.

Draco let out a sigh and pushed himself back. "But..." he began regrettably, "you gave Shift Team C until the end of today to hand in their reports of the raid on Tuesday; you have to be here to collect them. Or, at least, I do." He patted Harry's chest before wriggling to scoot back. Harry held him in place.

"Hold on. The rate you're going, we'll be stuck together 'til three." Harry spun his chair and leaned forward planting his feet on the ground. He held on to Draco, while Draco held onto the edge of the desk. He stood depositing the blond on the smooth polished surface.

"Wait," Draco whispered to him as he moved away, his legs tightening around him to bring him closer. Harry groaned. Draco was kissing his lips, and Harry found himself kissing back, though he was completely drained and thoroughly tired.

"Hmm, you'll be the death of me," he murmured around Draco's kisses and felt the blond's chuckle turn into a hitched breath as he finally pulled himself free. "You need to check your hair in the bathroom mirror," he said lowly, though he didn't know why as they were alone and no one could hear them. Draco smiled down at him from his perch on the edge of the desk and slid off gingerly, flicking Harry's nose with his finger at the brunet's concern. Harry watched him walk, impressively straight, to his adjoined bathroom in silence. Harry bent to the floor and picked up his shirt and uniform robes slipping his arms in them quickly and just letting them hang open on his shoulders. He had no more meetings for the day. Sitting down, he let out an exhausted breath.

Two years he'd had Draco with him, from homeless to Housekeeper, Housekeeper to Personal Assistant and Personal Assistant to lover. He let a wide grin split his face open as he leaned back in his office chair to think about how much of a difference Draco had made in his life since he'd re-entered it. The last of them all made him the happiest, he knew. He opened his stationery drawer and reached in just as Draco came back out of the bathroom, looking as if nothing had happened.

"That was quick."

Draco was searching the floor for something. "Real perfection takes time," he said distracted, "but with practice, time is lessened-ah!" he interrupted himself as he found the document he was searching for. "I trust you can clean up your own mess by yourself?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him playfully. "I think I can manage." Draco nodded at him, smiling as he walked to the door. "Draco." The blond stopped and turned to him. "We haven't had such a busy day today, how about I take you out to dinner tonight. Give yourself a break."

Draco looked pleasantly surprised by this. "Okay, I'd love to." He turned back to the door and opened it.

"Draco." A sigh before the blond turned around again. "Yes, Harry," he said patiently. Harry smiled hearing the 'what the fuck do you want now?' hidden in his words.

"You look gorgeous." He said still sitting at his desk, his shirt and robe open, as he lounged back and stared openly at his Personal Assistant.

Draco held the document in the manila folder in front of him. "You're just sitting there staring at me... I could land so many sexual harassment suits on your arse just from that look alone." When he got no response, just another leer, he rolled his eyes. "Am I free to go now, Sir?" he asked tongue-in-cheek. He could practically see Harry's pupils blow from the door. When he received no answer, he made his exit.

The room actually felt empty now with Draco gone. Using his wand, he righted the items on his desk and casually did up his shirt. He fingered the restaurant reservation confirmation slip that he took out of his drawer and shuffled some items around, before he took out the box it was under. Tonight they'd have to go over Draco's contract of employment, he knew. It had been a while since he'd given the blond a promotion.

Opening the box, he wondered if Draco liked diamonds.

**~Fin~**