It's interesting, this not-conversation they're having over coffee. He could have extended the delicately implied niceties, but there's eleven inches of holly and phoenix feather pointed straight at him and fuck being civil now. His own goddamn wand and Williamson is going to fucking kill him when he gets back to central. In the last five years, he's survived three years of auror training, six months of lectures on New Zealand's wizarding history and it's involvement with other magical communities, another six months of seminars on how fucking vastly different wizarding was there, and a year of desk duty. No wonder Draco Fucking Malfoy caught him unawares and used his own wand against him.
A laugh from the other side of the table and Harry has to clench his fists to keep from doing anything life threatening. "That was fucking weak, Potter. You still can't do a goddamn thing right it seems." He notices Draco's affinity for words such as goddamn and fuck, and his knuckles loosen of their own accord. He looks up from the table to see a sly humor grace Malfoy's face. "Do they still have you behind a desk?" Harry's irritation spikes for a moment, but he nods, his eyes going soft and weightless before Draco picks up on his temperament. Draco smiles, all teeth, and Harry can't help but groan.
"You know, the whole point of me leaving England, home, everything I've ever known essentially, was to get away from you. You picked up on that, right?" He brings his hands up to encircle the little white cup. Black, no, I don't want any cream or sugar or honey or whatever the fuck people are drinking now. Two years, virtually spent by himself has made him less than hospitable. Draco favors him with a smirk and the warmth spiraling in his belly has nothing to do with that and everything to do with his coffee, so bitter it makes his jaw ache.
"Yes, I noticed how you left, rather quickly might I add, after that night … two fucking years ago, you bastard." His wand pokes him savagely in the thigh, reprimanded both verbally and physically and so close to his cock Harry fights a wince.
"Oh, that's all." He tries to laugh, sounding out of breath and anxious. He eyes Draco, who has yet to show any expression except amused indulgence, and starts to move away from that which will seriously do him harm. Draco's other arm comes up, a block of any movement whatsoever and it's all over him that it's been two years since they've last touched. It shocks him into action, and he smiles and deigns innocence, rubbing his knee a little against Draco's hand beneath the table. "It's felt like ages." Draco's arm holding him in place lowers by inches, blatantly feeling his way down and Harry gives him a look of complete exasperation.
"I suppose it would, with you having such little to do here but let time pass."
"Fuck you, I'm an indispensable member-" Christ, he'll never get the taste of Percy Fucking Weasley out of his mouth.
"You sit behind a fucking desk all day and squiggle."
"That's not all I do!"
"You're putting me on right? You fucking hate it here; you're bored and apparently reckless. Really Potter, I had you disarmed in fifteen seconds. Obviously, you've not been eating correctly, considering I could in all probability pick you up and throw you, and I've seen that miserable pretense for living quarters, and do not interrupt me-" He adds quietly when Harry opens his mouth, shutting it just as quickly. "I've given you two bloody years to sit down here and hang about and maybe come to the realization that moving to the fucking end of the earth, as well as civilization apparently, might have been a bit hasty for letting me fuck you one night when you were too pissed to keep up with the charade of saying no." A dramatic eye roll, and Harry's wand is tossed at him so suddenly that he doesn't even catch it, just watches it roll over the table to the edge of his saucer.
"I was stoned. I was completely out of my head smashed and I was so fucking scared of everything that I ran away with it and this is so fucking pathetic that I'm even saying these things to you." Harry closes his eyes and puts his elbows on the table, fuck manners, and hides his head in the joints and curves of his arms.
"You are fucking pathetic, Potter, and in case you haven't realized it, I am extremely aware of that. Even before this trip." Harry's shin is kicked sharply and he knows Draco is giving him a look about his elbows so he sits up, slouching in his chair and still pissed about opening his big fucking mouth. "Christ, that's all? You're such a fucking pillock, can't ever handle things normally." He gets up and extends his hand and Harry takes it, still pouting, and barely has time to grab his wand before Draco pulls him out of the café.
"You could've ripped my arm off!" Once they're outside, fresh air and warmth, but Draco doesn't say anything, just finds an alley and pushes him in, still behind him. He then, in fact, does pick Harry up and throw him against a wall and looks a little too please with himself after. Harry hits it hard; falling to god knows what on the ground and gasping for breath. He feels sore all over, already, and he hasn't sparred with anyone since training. Draco has all the advantages. He gets to his knees, hands holding the wall for support.
"And this is dealing with things normally?" Draco pulls him up by his shirt, and cheap as it is, expectantly tears with the force. "Stop, shit!" Harry's hands pull at Draco's, far too clenched in his clothing and on his skin now and he feels so deliciously cheap when he moans and arches into him. He hears Draco laugh a little, then pull his legs up to wrap around his waist.
"You're a fucking auror, you can take it. Fuck, I still can't believe they let you in. You weigh what? Seven, eight stones?" He slithers his tongue across Harry's neck, biting and sucking, and laving and Harry grinds down, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck to give him leverage.
"I'm very crafty." He pants, neck and back arched and so fucking tiny in Draco's arms that he knows he must look ridiculous and he feels a little petulant about that.
"Yeah, right." He laughs and Harry can feel that warm breath wind around his neck, curving down his spine, "You're a fucking disaster waiting to happen." They've stopped immediately and Draco's looking at him stunned, free of Harry's arms and legs, hair mussed and lips swollen, and so fucking angry he pushes Harry back into the wall.
"Well, why do you think they put me behind a desk, you prick! Fuck, they gave me a goddamn pamphlet on it, like I don't know that I'll never not look like a runt or anything." He looks down the alley, where the sun still reaches, where people are just casually walking by like two grown men weren't just ten seconds from fucking each other.
"You are a fucking pillock, you know that right?" He smirks as he repeats the earlier sentiment, his arm coaxing itself around Harry like devil's snare. Oddly appropriate.
"I know, I know. It doesn't fucking matter. Look, stop." He pushes Draco back, looking up into a frustrated face. "Why are you here? What's the point in all this – a shag? You've come thousands of miles, apparated over taxing distances, I mean, don't get me wrong, it's very flattering, slightly mad, but very flattering, but why? Doesn't this seem a little absurd?" He honestly expected a serious response, something to confirm Draco's attentions. It didn't shock him though, that he was wrong.
Draco takes his chin, held defiantly up to him, rubbing his thumb over Harry's bottom lip so painfully gentle that Harry thinks he might die from it.
"I'd be in the ground, still waiting for you." Draco's mouth lifts in a smirk, and Harry forgot about that little dimple in those two years. He's absolutely stunned by it's presence and there's no way that he can think of anything to say that would derail this intense irrational situation that he's being dragged into. All he can do now is throw his arms around the man that has come incredible distances just to knock some sense into him.
"I'm ready now." He gasps softly and the smile that is directed at him is blinding in it's brilliance.
