A/N: This is a collection of drabbles I've written for Drarryland, the Game of Drarry. Each drabble will be a new chapter. Rated for language, so far.

Drabble 1 — Category: Defence Against the Dark Arts (Aurors/Adventure) — Prompt: "Auror Potter would hate to be inappropriate." Pick either: 1) Recently assigned partners -OR- 2) Opposite sides -OR- 3) Draco is a consultant

Word count: 928 of 930

Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to our queen, JK Rowling!

Drabble 1: The Consultant

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"So, basically, look through all of these?"

"That's right, Potter, all of these." Gawain Robards waved around the room. "And then all of those too."

Harry glanced around the dark and cluttered room, eyeing the boxes full of folders and stacks of parchments piled so high they nearly reached the dungeon ceiling. The light within the room seemed muted as it filtered through the mountains of papers.

"But, Robards," he said weakly, "this is mad. This'll take months."

"Well then you better get started, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said glumly.

"On the bright side, Potter, you aren't getting coffee anymore, are you?"

"No…" Harry said.

"You're a Junior Auror, Potter. This is what Junior Aurors do. Paperwork."

"Surely not," Harry said, but very quietly.

Having heard him, Robards allowed a grin to split across his face. Harry thought he looked positively evil.

"So," Robards said, turning to leave, "when you find something in relation to the Carrow trial, bring it to my immediate attention. Good luck, Potter."

"Thank you, sir," Harry grumbled, turning his attention to the stacks before him. Where to start…

"Oh, and one more thing"—Harry glanced back at Robards, who had paused, halfway out the door—"I've sent for a consultant familiar with the case. I expect he'll be along soon."

"Who is it, sir?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I expect you know him. Play nice, Potter." With that, he walked out the door.

"Er – 'play nice'?" Harry said, staring after his retreating back. "What do you mean? Robards?"

There was no response. Harry sighed and shook his head before he remembered that he was expected to scour through the entire underbelly of the Ministry in search of this one Carrow file, which Robards had demanded by yesterday, and if he didn't find it, there would be nothing to serve as proof to block Alecto Carrow's petition for early release from Azkaban. Harry sighed again. Why was the Ministry so disorganized? If Hermione saw the state of this room…

With an effort of will, he turned his attention away from the mystery of the consultant he was supposed to 'play nice' with and turned to the first stack of parchments before him.

He had been sorting through the paperwork for several hours when the heavy door creaked open behind him. Completely engrossed in a reading of the account of Gellert Grindelwald's trial, Harry jumped and whirled around. He stared, the parchment nearly slipping out of his hands.

"Potter."

His name was spoken in a lazy drawl that sent shivers down Harry's spine as he stared into the captivating grey eyes and blond hair of the man he'd spent more years fantasizing about than he dared to admit. He gulped.

"Malfoy," he managed. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Potter," Draco said, sauntering into the room, "it seems Robards thinks you can't manage this on your own." He gazed around, his eyes glowing silver in the candlelight. "What the bloody hell did you do to get sent down here, anyway?"

"You–" Harry began. His mouth felt incredibly dry, and he swallowed. "You're the consultant?"

"The one and only," Draco said, reaching Harry and pulling the parchment from his grasp. "Sorry to disappoint." He glanced at it and scoffed. "This has nothing to do with Carrow. Slacking, as usual?"

Harry blushed and snatched the parchment back, his hand brushing against Draco's and sending pleasant shivers down his arm that settled somewhere in his stomach. "Since when are you consulting for the Aurors?"

"Since your adorable little arse has been in the Academy," Draco said, smirking.

"My what?" Harry blushed again, certain he had misheard.

"You heard me, Potter."

"Right," Harry said, feeling entirely wrong-footed. "Right. So, I'll work on these, and why don't you start in the back room?"

Draco looked disappointed. "If that's what you want."

"Yes, I think that would be best," Harry mumbled, trying to breathe evenly. Draco was so close, and he could smell the subtle scent of something fresh, like flowers or trees. Had Draco been riding his broom that morning? Harry mentally shook his head, trying to get the image of Draco in his tightly-fitting training clothes out of mind.

Draco moved forward and Harry hurriedly stepped backwards to get out of his way before Draco could brush past him. He wasn't expecting the stack of parchments at knee height on the floor behind him though, and he tripped, quite ungracefully, and started to topple to the ground, flailing his arms for purchase.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact, when he felt a strong arm wrap firmly around his waist. He gasped, his eyes blinking open to meet a pair of silver-grey ones staring down at him. His heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat.

Draco pulled him back up, but didn't release him, their eyes still locked together. The moment seemed to stretch, for hours, for ever, as they stared at each other, Harry's heart pounding in his ears.

"I," he mumbled, "I…"

"Shut it, Potter." Abruptly, Draco leaned down and kissed him, hard.

Harry's mind went blank as he returned the kiss, leaving only feeling. His hands reached up, trailing through Draco's hair as Draco pushed him against a stack of parchments that immediately toppled over, causing them both to tumble to the floor.

And as they lay there, atop a mess of paper, and continued to kiss each other hungrily, all Harry could think was that this could not possibly be against Robards's orders, because he had, in fact, 'played nice.'

Really nice.