Authors Notes: I realized after posting this chapter the first time that I didn't put in little breaks…whoops. So I'm uploading it again. My apologies if you had an alert for this story and it somehow messed up your alert.

I want to give a million thanks to my wonderful beta juliakerns5 for betaing this chapter for me so quickly.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor its characters in any way, shape, or form.

4 Days of Training

Day 1, June 2nd

A black-haired man stood against the wall of the distribution center for the local newspaper. His arms were crossed over his chest, a sour look on his face. The trainee was half an hour late and Harry Potter had better things to do then stand here. Mainly things like take a potential shag out for a drink; if the bloke was even available. Grunting, he pushed away from the wall and walked inside, making a beeline for the office.

"Oi, Potter! Aren't you training today?" came a shout from inside the warehouse.

Harry grinned and walked backwards to talk with the elderly man that had shouted at him. "Yeah, but I don't know where the bastard is," he said with a shrug.

The man's wife giggled by his side. "Behave yourself, Harry."

Harry's hand was already on the office door handle. "I always do," he said with a wink, pushing the door handle down and the door open with his hip.

The office was buzzing with activity. It reminded Harry of the Ministry. At the far back his boss sat at her desk, talking with a blond-haired man. She smiled sweetly at her companion, which was more then Harry had seen her do in the three months he had kept this job.

She looked up at his approaching footsteps and the smile vanished. "Harry, there you are. I was about to ask someone else to train Draco here."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. There was no way that the blond sitting in the chair before Paula was the Draco Harry was thinking of. His hair was the wrong color for starters; more golden the platinum. And he sat there with an easy grace that Malfoy would never be able to display in a room full of Muggles.

"Well come over here and introduce yourself, Potter. There has been enough time wasted." At Harry's name the blond grew ridged.

The black-haired wizard bit the inside of his cheek as he made his way the rest of the way across the room. A dark coil of tension built up in his stomach. Please let this be a coincidence, he thought. The blond suddenly stood and faced him. His breath caught in his throat. It wasn't a coincidence.

Malfoy stood before him in jeans and a green polo shirt, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. His short hair was spiked ever so slightly. He inclined his head. "Potter."

Harry returned the gesture. "Malfoy."

"Oh, you two already know each other?" Paula asked, oblivious to the tension between the two men. "That's great. All the paperwork is in your cubby, Harry. You should get to work."

Harry turned on his heels and stalked back to the door. "Let's go, Malfoy."

With a hurried farewell, Draco rushed to catch up with the other man. At the row of cubbies the Boy-Who-Lived grabbed a sheet of paper and walked off again; assuming the blond would follow.

"See those carts?" He jerked his head to the left. "Go grab one."

--

Draco walked off to retrieve a cart. As he returned to Potter's side he studied the other man. His hair was a bit longer then he remembered, eyes a bit harder. His stride was different too. Draco sighed, suddenly extremely tired.

Harry stood by one of the long tables, looking down at the paper he had grabbed. "All right," he said. "Pay attention. This is your route number, it tells you how many fronts and inserts you need to grab from those piles over there." He pointed to his right without looking up. "And if you need to stop delivering to someone or start someone it will say it right here."

Draco nodded, only half paying attention. Standing so close to Harry and looking over his shoulder was making his brain go fuzzy. He took a deep breath through his nose and nearly choked. The other wizard still smelled amazing. He watched Harry's lips moving but heard none of it, his brain instead entertaining itself with memories of those lips softly kissing across every inch of Draco's body.

His eyes drifted up and met a pair of glaring green ones. He took a step back. "Sorry." He watched Potter walk away to the newspaper piles. This is going to be a long night, he thought.

--

This is going to be a long night, Harry thought. Draco sat in the passenger seat of his convertible, staring out the window for the most part. Neither one of them was buckled in.

"How'd you get here?" he finally asked.

"Broom," came the clipped answer.

Harry nodded. Pulling off the main road, he drove the car down a winding gravel path and parked it inside a shed. Without a word he turned the ignition off, pulled his wand from its holster on the sun visor, stepped out of the car and pulled the rear door open. Draco turned around in his seat. He opened his mouth to say something when Harry shrank all the newspapers with the flick of his wand.

"Get out of the car. Doing the deliveries is faster by broom," he explained.

He walked to the trunk of the car, unlocked it and took out two robes. Wordlessly he tossed one to the blond before shrugging his own on and stuffing tiny newspapers into his pockets. Draco watched him for a heartbeat before following suite.

--

"I didn't know you lived that close to the center," Draco said, trying hard to make small talk. The ground rushed past them. He thought delivering newspapers to Muggles via broom was a risk. Although, he mused, most Muggles won't be awake at three in the bloody morning.

"I don't. Porch."

Draco pursed his lips and nodded. He dove down, took one of the newspapers out of his pocket, and tossed it onto the porch of the house. As the paper clattered to the ground it grew back to its normal size. "Weasley and Granger then, huh?" he asked as he drew level with Potter again.

"No."

The blond looked up in surprise. "Won't Muggles wonder why a strange car is in their shed?"

Harry shook his head. "No. The house belongs to my friends. They know I'm a wizard and won't be surprised to see my car there. Tube."

With a huff the blond dove back down, tossed a paper into the tube on a mailbox and shot back up. This route was turning out to be more annoying then he had first thought. None of the houses were right next to each other, and in his opinion some Muggles where far too demanding on where they wanted their paper.

He watched Harry out of the corner of his eyes. The other man's jaw was clenched shut, eyes trained straight ahead, and hands clenched firmly around the broomstick. A faint tremor ran up his arms that Draco didn't think he was even aware of.

He took a deep breath. "Look, Harry. I'm sor–"

"Don't," Harry cut him off. "Whatever you have to say, just don't."

"But–"

"Malfoy, I don't want to hear it." Draco cringed at the venom in Harry's voice.

--

Had Harry been standing he would have kicked himself for sounding so harsh. He looked over at the blond and bit his bottom lip. Draco actually looked hurt. He snorted at the thought. Draco would look hurt only if hell froze over, he thought bitterly.

"Potter, I'm out of papers," the blond said.

Harry sighed and shrugged out of his robes. He held it out to the other man, but didn't move to breach the gap that sat between them. He heard Draco mutter something under his breath and couldn't help but smirk. Soft, cold fingers brushed his and he jerked his hand back with a gasp. Draco yelped and toppled forward off his broom. Harry cursed and dove after him, grasping the blonds' wrist a few feet before the ground. He lowered Draco to the ground and hovered above him.

"Th-thanks," Draco stammered, spelling the scattered papers back into the robe pockets and mounting his broom again.

"Yeah, no problem."

--

"God, Hermione, it was horrid," Harry moaned, letting his head drop into his hands. "We were so fucking close I could smell what shampoo he uses."

Hermione patted his arms affectionately. "Look on the bright side, Harry, only three more days and you'll never have to see him again."

"I don't think I can stand three more days. I might hex him… or worse, listen to what he has to say."

Next to him, Ron snorted. "Yeah, and then we'd be in real trouble. Just push the bastard off his broom tomorrow and let that be that. Ouch." Hermione hit his leg.

With an eye roll and a shake of her head she turned her attention back to her miserable best friend. "Would it really be that bad to just listen to him? Maybe… maybe it wouldn't be that bad."

A humorless laugh escaped Harry. "I don't want to listen to him. He'll only come up with some lame excuse."

Across from him Ron nodded. "He's right, you know."

Harry rubbed his forehead with the balls of his hands. With a sigh he sat up straighter and smiled at his friends. "I'll just ignore him as much as possible for the next three days and hope for the best."

"That's the spirit," Hermione said, reaching across the coffee table to pour Harry another cup of tea.

"I still think you should just push him off," Ron muttered.