Summary: Harry's new job working as the assistant for the editor and creator of a Gay/Bi/Lesbian magazine puts the young man on a strange but enlightening path to acceptance. SLASH, anal, slight BD/SM. Draco/Harry. AU. Non-magic.

A/N: Posted for good. Edited and continued.

Junoesque

By Little-Hufflepuff

Chapter | ONE

Writers block had to be a first-rate reason to down four cups of coffee in only thirty minutes, surely all the caffeine would jolt his mind into gear and get his ideas flowing? Right?

Wrong.

A heavy sigh was breathed past coffee warmed lips, the young boy – barely any more then seventeen summers old – slumped over his desk, ignoring the fact his forehead rested against the keyboard and sent random, sporadic letters to dance across the previously blank document on screen.

He had worked late into the evening, finishing off the last of the planning for the upcoming launch of Junoesque Magazine – a publication that catered primarily to homosexual men and women. The launch was to be in seven days and Harry had yet to finish the outlay of the cover page. Tomorrow he would he promised to himself breathing warm, coffee scented breath upon the surface of the table. For now he'd spend the minutes remaining of Wednesday to attempt to break down his mental block and write some damn words. How hard could it be?

"Just type the letters – that's all I have to do. Then I'm finished."

A small chuckle startled Harry into a sudden intake of air through his nose and he spun around on his chair to find his boss slumped quite casually against the office doorframe.

"Generally that is how one writes on a computer, yes. However perhaps you could also clear away the nonsense that you have inadvertently typed."

Harry felt his face flame, the blush heating the bridge of his nose.

"Right – um – sorry, I didn't expect you to be here so late." Harry shifted uneasily under the intense scrutiny of the older man before adding a belated, "sir."

Blond hair fell over the man's' brow coming free from its confines behind his ear, he grunted and jerked it out of his face then started a slow approach towards Harry.

Harry busied his hands with deleting his previous forehead-typed-gibberish, "I'm not the only one here late. Did you not have enough time to complete my demands?" Harry flushed with embarrassment even when noticing the question wasn't condescending but concerned.

"Yes – I mean no! Well, to be honest I only have the regards and acknowledgments and cover outlay to finish, sir."

"It's after work hours, Harry. Call me Draco not sir – it's so formal."

Harry nodded quickly. He was always jumpy around Draco Malfoy, ever since he first met the man all of five months ago Harry had been awkward and shy and – well, completely foolish around the blond. It didn't help Harry's nervous behaviour any that Draco was calm and collected in every situation thrown at him. He was indifferent to the competition and always kept a level head when dealing with disputes between employees. Harry just felt inadequate compared to him.

Harry gave his mind a mental shake, looking up to find Draco standing over him a line of disquiet between his brows. Harry realized he must have been drifting in his mindless thoughts for a while and smiled quickly.

"Okay, Draco. Um – I think I've finished for the night," Harry checked his wristwatch and winced at the time. Twelve twenty, it was officially Thursday, "It's late and I have to be up early."

Draco nodded and his grey eyes were unreadable. "If you want to come in later all you have to do is ask, I don't mind." He said quietly. Harry fumbled with his computer and stood, grabbing his backpack before turning to face Draco.

"It's alright; my shift starts at eight so I'll have plenty of time to rest."

Harry darted around the tall man and out the office door promptly with a small incline of his head of goodbye directed at Draco. Harry knew not why he was such a nervous wreck around Draco anymore then he knew the exact details of brain surgery. He didn't like to think on such things – about Draco that is, not brain surgery – it brought up confusing emotions that clouded his head.

DM/HP

The metal of his house key was cold to his touch, frigid against his fingertips as he opened his front door, letting the chilly November air into his small home.

Harry discarded his keys and backpack on the small dresser in the hallway and trailed slowly into the dark living room. Not bothering to turn on any lights he slumped down into a squishy armchair, the soft pelt of the armrests tickled his palms.

A breathy whoosh of air left his lungs when his mobile blasted in the soothing stillness, the upbeat tune was shrill to his ears and Harry snatched his mobile from his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

"What?" he snapped and instantly regretted it as the familiar voice of Amsen quietly implied he lower his tone unless he wanted to be castrated the next time she come across him. Harry bit his lips and muttered his reply in a small voice.

"Hey Amsen, how are you?"

The annoyed huffed amused Harry and a smile tugged at his lips, "Don't 'Hey Amsen' me Harry James! I'll have you know that your little tantrum quite affronted me!"

Harry opened his mouth to refute her claim of a tantrum but the young woman cut his words off.

"And here I was just innocently calling you up – my best friend – to say hello and have a chat. What do I get for it?"

Harry shook his head, his dark hair brushing into his vision, "Amsen, you never call just to say hello and talk – what are your sinister motives tonight and at such a time too?"

Amsen was silently mock-angered at his words before sighing and answering, "I only ever call late and most the time you're awake Mr. Night-Owl!" she informed matter-of-factly. Harry snorted laughter.

"Is there any other kind of owl?" he asked ingenuously.

"And anyway, why would you assume I have 'sinister' business with you? Can't a gal just call for some chitchat?" Amsen went on, ignoring Harry's smartass comment.

"Ammy – it's you we're talking about. Everything you do is sinister to some degree."

A chuckle from the other end of the line then, "Okay, so here's the thing. I have some major – and I mean most important gossip!"

Harry shifted in the armchair kicking off his shoes and tucking one foot under his bottom and letting the other brush across the soft carpet, "gossip about…?" he prompted when Amsen didn't elaborate.

The girl giggled – which wasn't like her at all. Harry was more prone to giggling-fits than Amsen was.

"Get this," she said her voice laced with conspiracy, Harry sat up straighter in his seat, "you know your boss, Draco Malloy?"

"Malfoy," Harry corrected and Amsen brushed him off with a huffed 'whatever' before continuing with her story.

"Draco Malfoy," she stressed his surname, "is featured in an issue of GrossierGlam, and guess what it says?"

Harry raised his eyebrows to the dark room, GrossierGlam was Junoesques' main competition – both magazines were involved heavily in the lesbian/gay scene however GrossierGlam was more of a grungy lesbian magazine that showed many erotic girl on girl poses and few if any gay men. Harry fancied it very little. It was fundamentally a porn magazine.

"Harry? Earth to idiot, come in idiot!" Harry was pulled from his scowling distaste for GrossierGlam by Amsen's low drawl.

"I'm here, go on – what does it say?"

Amsen took a deep breath, "It say's that Draco Malfoy is a bigoted, disturbed man and that was just in the first sentence – here let me read it. Ahem…"

Harry could hear the flick of pages as Amsen flipped to the article.

"The bigoted and disturbed editor and chief of new and upcoming magazine Junoesque is not all he may appear. Behind the façade of apathy lies a well of secrets. Here at GrossierGlam we have hauled up buckets full of Draco Malfoy's dirty little secrets and have uncovered some shocking information." Here Amsen stopped and took a deep breath, waiting for Harry's response.

"Ok, so our rival magazine bashes his name a bit, point?"

A sigh of exasperation that reminded Harry of his work colleague, Hermione Granger, she was the force behind the articles published in Junoesque.

"I haven't finished yet, the stuff they said about him – it's so fucking yummy!" Harry knew Amsen was a sucker for gossip – to her any gossip was good gossip, it fed her female curiosity.

"What's so yummy about Draco Malfoy?" Harry swallowed hard just after the words left his tongue, realizing he had set up his friend for any number of bawdy comebacks. "And don't say something disgusting." he added.

Amsen tsked, "You're no fun," Harry could just about hear her pout, "and everything about Draco Malfoy is yummy – from his hair right down to his fancy footwear, not to mention that drool worthy cock of his!"

Harry blanched and near well dropped his mobile down the side of the armchair, spluttering he squeaked out, "Amsen – are you mental? You don't say things like that." And how would you know his cock is yummy? He ignored the fact that his voice was well above his usual tenor and cleared his throat so his next words were not ultrasonic.

"And I told you not to be lewd." He mumbled.

Amsen gasped in mocking surprise, "did Ammy taint wittle Hawwy's virgin ears? Oh how distasteful of me."

Harry sneered, the empty room being on the receiving end, "shut up and get on with your story, Ammy." He purposely disregarded her jab at his virginity – he really regretted confiding such a thing to her.

"Okay, okay," she relented "the article goes on to list his bad qualities from as trivial as him smoking to him being involved with his work partner –"

Harry found himself interrupting with a loud, "who?" before nibbling his lip hard and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. What did he care who his boss dated?

"Some bloke called Cormac McLaggen – he works with the models and such apparently." Her voice was dismissing as though that piece of information was uninteresting, for Harry it was intently interesting; which bemused him greatly.

He knew of Cormac, although hadn't met him, there was no real need for him to venture into the Photography section.

"Anyways, apparently they are into some kinky stuff – y'know, like the BD/SM shit? And slave master torment and the likes. They have quite a pretty picture of Draco in leather and donning a whip. MmHm, it gets me wet just looking at it."

Harry rolled his eyes, accustomed to Amsen's crass exploit of words. His stomach had dropped previously, seemingly falling out his pelvis at Amsen's words of Draco being involved with the slut Cormac – okay, so technically Harry had never met the man to judge but he found he instantly disliked him nonetheless. His stomach now felt full of squirmy butterflies at the mention of Draco dressed in leather. Harry wasn't sure what it all meant.

"Oh and get this, supposedly he was once engaged to the editor of GrossierGlam!" Amsen laughed and Harry heard the sound of her throwing down the magazine to the coffee table.

"Who's the editor?"

Harry wasn't sure why he was so concerned to find out about his boss's private life, it was after all clandestine and Harry prying was just plain rude – on the other hand Amsen was only reading what so many other people would have read by now, so was there any harm?

Yes, his mind told him, Draco's your boss and you are purposely prying into his personal business. Harry thought it was okay for someone not acquainted with Draco to be nosy, however Harry was Draco's personal assistant, Draco needed to be able to trust him.

But engaged? Harry was sure GrossierGlam was out to kill off their only true rival magazine. Surely Draco hadn't been engaged, it was – well, it made Harry's chest tight with some foreign emotion.

Harry flinched at the loud yell of 'Harry' and focused his attention back to Amsen, "What…?" he murmured shaking his head softly to bring him to his senses and shake off his approaching tiredness that stung behind his eyes. It must be late.

"You drifted off into your damn head again! That's a real bad habit y'know, Har?" she said. "And the editor is Pansy Parkinson, I've seen her – ugly, pug faced bitch she is."

Harry snorted, "You've never met her Amsen how can you critic?" the girl was silent for a moment and Harry knew she was rolling her eyes, when she spoke her voice was muffled from whatever she has decided to stuff into her mouth. She had a bad habit herself of eating while talking on the phone – or commonly talking with her mouth full in general.

"'t's oot lik' I 'are much t' mee' her, she 'ust rubs me the 'rong way." She coughed and Harry admonished her for talking with her mouth full.

"I was hungry and I made cupcakes earlier," she explained. "Anyway I'll bring you a copy of the magazine tomorrow – I'm sure you'll find the pictures interesting."

Harry just stretched in his chair, back arching with the movement. "Okay Ammy," he said dismissing the subject more out of avoidance then his actually tiredness "I'll see you tomorrow – I'm due to start at eight, so I'll meet you at the café around seven?"

Harry smiled when the girl groaned unhappily, "why do you have to work so early? I don't do mornings."

"I know," Harry said cheekily before saying his goodbyes and snapping his mobile shut. The young man rested in his chair for a while longer – mind adrift in a swirl of thoughts centered on Draco and cupcakes and the picture Amsen had described – before he drifted off into slumber Harry hauled his body from the armchair and sleepily stumbled through the dark house to his bedroom.

DM/HP

Harry woke early the next morning, groaning at the dawn light that crept into his bedroom through his parted curtains, his sleepy groan turned into something of a curse word when he felt the familiar stickiness on his abdomen.

Scrubbing at his eyes with his knuckles Harry sat up, ignoring the viscous cum on his belly in favour of taking a piss and subsequently a shower.

Harry all but stormed into his small kitchen after his shower; his decision to wear a pair of skinny jeans seemed stupid now that he had a straining erection that was confined in the rough fabric. A wet dream and now a hard-on, this wasn't Harry's morning.

After grabbing a slice of bread and not bothering to toast it nor slather it with jam Harry left the house, grabbing his keys and backpack before doing so.

The engine rumbled to life, purring under Harry as the young man pulled out of the driveway, the blaring tone of his mobile was the cause for his swear word muttered through his mouthful of bread. He really needed to change the tone – it was damn awful. Not bothering to pull over Harry inched his phone out of his bag, which was on the passenger seat, and thumbed it open putting it on loudspeaker.

"Harry, I hope I didn't wake you."

Harry swallowed his bread the wrong way and inhaled crumbs, his coughing fit made his face heat from exertion and embarrassment when the smooth voice of his boss enquired if he was alright.

Harry kept his one hand steering in check and replied his voice subdued, "I'm fine, swallowed the wrong way."

"Where are you?" Draco questioned and Harry was curious to note the undertone of silky interest in the quiet question. It was almost as if Draco thought Harry was doing something – naughty. Oh gods!

"No, it was bread!" Harry all but yelled at his phone before adding in a gentler voice "I had a rushed breakfast, it was bread. Swallowed it wrong." He finished lamely and only just restrained himself from veering off the road and purposely slamming into a tree. Why did he always make a fool of himself in front of Draco?

A soft laugh and then, "sure it was. If that's the case then I also had bread for breakfast." Harry wasn't daft he knew what Draco had just implied and the flush that climbed his neck was completely reflexive and not wholly from discomfiture but also from a hot flare of disquiet – had Draco been with Cormac this morning? Perhaps the man had stayed the night with Draco and they – oh gods, Harry mentally shook away his trail of thoughts, telling himself that it was none of his business who Draco slept with or sucked off.

Harry carefully concentrated on changing gears, if only to busy himself.

Draco cleared his throat on the other end of the line, "I didn't upset you, did I?" the slight – almost nonexistent lilt of hesitation provoked Harry to speak up.

"No, I was just – doing something." Yes Harry, well done that was so elegant! Harry flicked his finger against the indicator listening as Draco spoke up.

"You shouldn't be driving and talking on the phone at the same time – naughty boy."

"How'd you know?"

"I can hear the engine."

"You're on loudspeaker." Harry informed and ignored the words 'naughty' and 'boy' – at least his mind did, his body had other ideas and the squirmy feelings in his stomach returned, Harry sighed and briefly pressed his hand to his clothed erection, a moan held back only barely behind his teeth. Not good to be touching himself, it wouldn't do to show up to the café with a stain on the front of his pants. He wouldn't hear the end of it from Amsen.

From Draco's end Harry could hear the shuffling of papers and then Draco snapped an order to someone before returning his attention fully to Harry.

"I'll keep it quick then. I called to enquire if you could be here by half seven? I don't like calling you in," Harry frowned at that, taking it in a bad way, "however I will allow you to knock off thirty minutes earlier." Was that a bribe?

Harry wasn't in a huge hurry, he had time to meet with Amsen and then drive into work so he agreed, pleasing Draco immensely.

"Good, see you in forty minutes." Draco said cheerfully and then hung up, no goodbye or anything. Harry suspected that's how rich editors acted though. Goodbyes weren't important when you had a business to run, only extra seconds wasted.