Thirty minutes later, outfitted in clean trousers and a borrowed mint-green shirt, Harry took Malfoy's arm and allowed him to Apparate them to Diagon Alley. He could not quite believe he was shopping with Draco Malfoy.
"Where are we going?"
"The apothecary first. I need to replenish some of Blaise's potion ingredients and we're getting low on Floo Powder. And then to Quality Quidditch, I think. Fancy looking at some brooms, Potter?"
"That never gets old," Harry admitted. He had already admired the latest models, but it wouldn't hurt to stop in and get the latest gossip about how they were performing.
Harry poked through the shelves whilst Malfoy argued with the proprietor of the apothecary. In fact, Malfoy argued so long and so well that Harry feared the old man might hex him just to get him to leave the shop, but at last Malfoy seemed satisfied and the apothecarist shook his head and leaned over the counter to clap Malfoy on the shoulder.
"You are a shrewd bargainer, Mr Malfoy. I am heartily pleased that there are no more of you. Give my regards to your mother, won't you?"
"Indeed I shall. You can have those sent round to my flat when they arrive. Have an excellent afternoon."
"Be off with you, scamp! Good day, Mr Potter." The man waved and then turned away to assist another customer. Harry followed Malfoy out of the shop.
"That was... impressive," Harry admitted.
Malfoy snorted. "That old reprobate. He always increases his prices by thirty percent when he sees me coming. He thinks he's bloody clever."
"Remind me to bring you along next time I need to negotiate something."
"At your service, Mister Potter," Malfoy said with a smile that melted Harry's insides just a bit.
He cleared his throat. "Where to now?"
"Flourish and Blotts?"
Harry groaned. "Oh Merlin, not more books. Hermione drags me there at least once a month and then spends hours browsing."
"Oh no! Not once a month! The horror!"
Harry smacked him on the arm. "Shut up! Some of us don't particularly care for reading."
Malfoy shook his head as if saddened. "It broadens the mind, Potter. You should try it."
Harry gave him a bemused grin. He had once assumed Malfoy to be utterly close-minded. If reading books was responsible for his change of heart, then perhaps Harry should consider giving the hobby a chance. "Is that why you started conducting the Knight Bus? Broadening your horizons?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps you should ride along tonight."
"Ride along? On the Knight Bus?"
"No, Potter, on my broom." Malfoy snickered, whether at his sarcasm or the innuendo, Harry wasn't sure. "Of course on the Knight Bus. For the whole route. Maybe you'll gain some insight."
"Why can't you just tell me?"
"Where is the fun in that?"
Mercurial, Harry decided, grasping at a word Hermione had used to describe a perplexing co-worker. Mercurial and slightly maddening. That was Malfoy.
"All right," Harry said, surprising himself for the second time that day. "If we haven't killed one another by then. I'll ride along."
"Excellent," Malfoy said and then nodded towards the bookshop. "Now, let us find you something to read. Surely you have some latent brain cells in there that could use some awakening."
"You are not making it easy to spend time with you!" Harry called as he broke into a trot to keep up with Malfoy's long strides.
OOOOOOOO
To Harry's surprise, the day passed without either of them coming to blows. Malfoy turned out to be interesting company, far better than he had been on the Knight Bus. He seemed to delight in shopping, especially if said shopping involved coaxing, wheedling, or demanding the best price from whatever hapless sales clerk assisted him.
"Why do you do that?" Harry asked, laughing when Malfoy admired a clear crystal cube he had purchased from a small gift shop Harry had never noticed before. "You only saved twelve Knuts on that deal."
"It's the principle of the thing, Potter. The fact remains that I was not bested."
Harry held his tongue. It was a thing with Malfoy, he had noticed, being bested. He nodded at the cube. "What does it do?"
"You've never seen a Mood Cube?"
Harry shook his head. Even after all his years in the wizarding world, there were still multitudes of things that other wizards took for granted that Harry had never heard of.
"It's not much. A silly bit of magic. It absorbs emotions and changes colour with your moods. See?" Malfoy held the cube out to Harry. It had been clear before, but now held a pale blue glow.
"What does blue mean?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Happiness, I suppose. Contentment?" He held out the cube and Harry opened his palm for Malfoy to drop it into. The blue glow winked out for a moment and then slowly returned, tinted with violet.
"I guess I'm happy, too." Harry smiled and felt himself blushing as he gave back the cube, not willing to acknowledge what the violet signified.
Malfoy tucked the cube into a pocket of his robes. "Time for lunch."
OOOOOOOO
Harry stood outside the door to Malfoy's flat and yawned widely before he knocked on the portal. After lunch, which had been pleasant enough with only two interruptions by people asking for Harry's autograph, Malfoy had suggested that Harry go home and take a nap before meeting at eight o'clock at his flat. If Harry planned to ride along on the Knight Bus, he would be staying awake most of the night.
Sleep had eluded him for at least an hour, but he had finally drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be awakened by his alarm. By the time he'd crawled out of bed, he'd only had time for a rush shower and a sandwich before dressing and Apparating to Malfoy's place.
Blaise Zabini opened the door. "Hey, Potter," he said without even a hint of the smirk Harry had expected. "There's tea in the kitchen. Draco should be ready soon. He has to primp, you know?"
"Thanks," Harry said. He felt a bit awkward walking into the kitchen alone, but less awkward than trying to make conversation with Zabini. Harry poured water from a Self-heating Kettle into a tall mug and shoved a pinch of tea leaves into the ornate metal ball. He dropped it into the mug and watched as brown spirals ebbed out in slow swirls.
"Is that for me?"
Harry turned to see Malfoy adjusting the cuffs on his purple uniform.
"No, but I will make you a cup," Harry said and took another cup from the rack.
"Not that one," Malfoy said and moved forward to reach over Harry's shoulder. "This one is mine." He took a black mug trimmed in silver from the rack and set it next to Harry's. It was unadorned, no snakes, no green pattern, no words proclaiming him the World's Best Whatever.
Harry filled it with water whilst Malfoy took another tea ball and stuffed it with leaves. They had quite an assortment, all clearly labelled in a neat row of jars. Harry had chosen a simple Darjeeling, but Malfoy seemed to have a preference that involved pinches of several varieties.
"That looks complicated," Harry commented.
"The best things usually are, Potter," Malfoy replied as he plunked the completed tea ball into the water and reached for the sugar bowl.
Harry thought about the comment as he sipped his tea and watched Malfoy putter about the kitchen. The scene felt both surreal and comfortable. For the first time in a long time, Harry thought it might be nice to have a roommate. His house suddenly seemed very empty and lonely.
"If you two are finished dawdling and drinking all of my expensive tea, I suggest we get moving," Zabini said from the doorway as he adjusted his cap low over his eyes. His uniform was a deeper violet than Malfoy's and did not seem to fit quite so perfectly. Or perhaps the colour simply suited Malfoy more.
Harry gulped the last of his tea and allowed Malfoy to Side-Along him. They appeared inside the Knight Bus, which looked to be parked in the centre of a large, weed-choked field. Zabini moved to the driver's seat and started the bus with a flick of his wand.
"Thursday nights are usually fairly quiet," Malfoy said. "Sometimes we idle for hours playing chess or reading whilst waiting for someone to need a lift. Gets a bit boring at times, not like Mondays."
"Mondays are the busiest?"
"By far."
Harry was about to ask why when he stumbled and practically flew into Malfoy, who caught him and braced them both to keep them from falling as the bus shot forward.
"Hold on," Malfoy murmured into his ear as Harry relaxed his grip on Malfoy's hips and struggled to right himself. Amusement tinted Malfoy's words.
Harry tried not to feel overwhelmed, but Malfoy's nearness tangled his senses, snaring him like the tendrils of a Venomous Tentacula. Hold on, he thought and did just that. His fingers tightened and he leaned minutely closer to Malfoy, drinking him in. A wave of pure want seemed to crash over him, leaving him shaken.
Malfoy wrapped an arm around him and pulled him even closer with a chuckle. "Don't worry. You get used to it. It helps to keep an eye on Blaise. He uses his wand to drive most of the time, so you can pick up clues there. Also, the bus shifts a bit just prior to changing direction. Can you feel it?"
Can you feel it? The bus moved, making Harry lean a little to the left, but he could feel nothing but Malfoy and the pounding of his own heart. Oh god, I want him, he thought desperately, I want Draco Malfoy.
It should not have been as alarming as it was; after all, just that morning he had awakened in Malfoy's bed with a raging hard-on, but this was something different. Lust, he could have dealt with. Desire could be ignored or willed away, or possibly taken care of with enough wanking, or even a one-off. This, however... Harry swallowed as ridiculous visions of tea drinking and afternoon walks, lazy shopping sprees and long hours spent talking and doing stupid things like holding hands or staring into clear grey eyes assailed him. Harry's weeks of avoidance had done nothing but staved off the inevitable. Harry had been lost from the beginning.
He pushed himself away abruptly. "Yes!" he said loudly. "Shifting. Got it!"
Malfoy blinked at him for a moment and then frowned. "Already? What a pity."
The bus stopped and Harry nearly toppled again, this time away from Malfoy. He caught himself on a bedframe and glared at Malfoy as if daring him to comment. He almost hoped for a fight. Anything would be better than the crushing realization.
"Good evening, Mr Ellington," Malfoy said smoothly as a middle-aged wizard stepped aboard, carrying a large knapsack and a gnarled wand, "Do you remember Harry Potter?"
OOOOOOOO
Harry managed to push away his conflicted feelings by resolving to deal with them later. Instead, he focussed on watching Malfoy and trying to gain some perspective. Harry was there, after all, to determine why Malfoy had chosen such odd employment, especially when it was not necessary for him to work at all.
He watched as Malfoy bantered with old witches, smoothed the ruffled feathers of cantankerous wizards, and blithely ignored any slurs or angry words sent his way.
He's grown up, Harry thought when a cloak-swathed wizard shoved past Malfoy with a snarled, "Out of my way, Death Eater scum" and Malfoy merely gave the man a mocking bow and disappeared upstairs. Harry supposed he had done some growing up, himself, but apparently not enough to keep from casting a surreptitious Itching Hex on the rude wizard before heading up the stairs to join Malfoy.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he entered the small kitchen area tacked onto the rear section of the second level. A door led to the unisex restroom - both spaces had been created utilizing the same spells Harry had first witnessed on the wizarding tents at his first Quidditch World Cup. It seemed a lifetime ago, and yet the magic was no less impressive.
Malfoy held a large mug full of milk and he swirled chocolate into it, stirring it into a small whirlpool with his wand. When the colour was appropriate, Malfoy opened a bottle of brandy and poured a generous amount into the mixture.
"Thursday, midnight. Mr Foster will be boarding shortly and he takes his cocoa with a shot of brandy. He likes to have it ready when he boards so that he can finish it in time to face his wife and explain that he lost another handful of Galleons playing cards with Elphias Kingfisher, just as he does every single Thursday. One would think the woman would tire of nagging him about it, but apparently she doesn't."
Later, they picked up a frightened young man who boarded in a rush and cast nervous glances at the dark stretch of forest beyond the bus windows. "Thought I heard a wolf," he babbled as he fished in a pocket for the fare. "Could be a werewolf. Thought it best to be safe and catch a ride than get eaten. Or turned." The man shuddered and Malfoy patted his shoulder and sat with him until they reached his destination, a small village arrived at almost before his seat grew warm.
As the man exited into the glowing light cast by a sign advertising an all-night pub, Malfoy looked at Harry, who asked, "Do you think there really are werewolves out there?"
"That would be your job, Potter. Mine is only to make sure they arrive safely at their destination."
Harry snorted, but made a mental note to check it out. A sudden yawn took him by surprise and he took off his glasses to rub his eyes.
"We should probably take you home," Malfoy commented. "Do you work tomorrow, or is it another Ministry holiday?"
Harry nodded. "I should pop into the office and finish up some paperwork. It's not an official holiday, although attendance will likely be sparse." He cast a Tempus Charm to find that it was nearly three o'clock. No wonder he was tired. If he was lucky, he might manage five hours of sleep.
"Back to London, Blaise," Malfoy said.
"Aye, aye," Zabini replied. "Number 12, Grimmauld Place."
The bus turned and rocketed through the dark. Malfoy went upstairs and Harry hurried after him, unsure what to say when it was time to exit. Should he make plans to ride again? He remembered that Malfoy did not work on Friday and Saturday nights, and Harry had no real reason to catch the bus on Sunday. The earliest he would ride again would be Monday, which suddenly seemed decades away.
On the third level, Malfoy tucked a blanket around a sleeping man and then walked to what must have been Malfoy's favourite vantage spot. The bus currently travelled a deserted country lane; the countryside beyond the window was dark but for an occasional Muggle light in the distance.
"It's very peaceful," Harry said, moving to stand next to Malfoy.
"Sometimes on long stretches like this it's easy to believe there is nothing at all out there."
Harry said nothing for a moment, scanning the darkness for the next sign of Muggle habitation, and then he said, "I think I know why you do it. This Knight Bus thing."
Malfoy huffed and Harry turned to look at him.
"You like helping people. That's why, isn't it?" Harry asked.
"I'm no Gryffindor, Potter."
"Doesn't matter. I've seen you with your passengers, the way you were with that boy fleeing the 'werewolf' and the way you make cocoa for Mr Foster. You like helping stranded wizards and you really like some of the regulars. I think you love this job."
Malfoy gave him a sardonic smile. "I took this job because I was bored, Potter. Blaise and I did it as a lark. We were too drunk to get home one night and flagged down the Knight Bus. Blaise made a joke that we should annoy our parents and become Knight Bus drivers. It was so hilarious that we actually did it."
Harry nodded. "But you're still doing it. The reason you start something is never as important as the reason you stick with it. Or is there some other frivolous explanation for why you tuck in sleeping customers and throw parties on Tuesday nights and take people home when they can't get there on their own."
"You're the only one I ever took home, Potter."
That warmed Harry, but he refused to be swayed. "And the rest of it?"
Malfoy opened his mouth and Harry sensed another denial forthcoming, so he stepped closer, into Malfoy's personal space. Whatever words Malfoy had planned to say were quelled by an inhalation of breath. Harry put his hands on Malfoy's shoulders.
"Either that or you are simply so vain you cannot bear the thought of no longer wearing that sexy uniform," Harry teased.
"This is not a sexy uniform," Malfoy countered in a barely audible voice. Harry nearly cheered at having rendered him nearly speechless.
"It is on you," Harry replied and leaned in for a kiss.
Malfoy's lips were soft and the kiss was nothing like those in Harry's daydreams. Those had been full of crashing need and desperation, fuelled by Harry's churning need and conflicted emotions. This was far gentler, seeming to reflect the dark countryside and the lulling sounds of the bus.
Their lips met, pressed, and pulled nearly away before pushing forward again, then again, and yet again. It was little more than a tease and hardly anything to write sonnets about, except for the effect it was having on Harry's senses. Malfoy smelled even better up close, especially when his breath mingled with his usual tantalizing scents, filling Harry's lungs with every inhalation. Each gasp seemed to draw Harry ever closer to Malfoy, as though it were a strange ability Malfoy possessed.
And then everything changed. Harry wasn't sure which of them opened up first, but the merest brush of Malfoy's tongue against Harry's lower lip sent a surge of lust roaring through him, making breath itself seem secondary. Harry clutched at Malfoy, glad that he'd been holding onto him. Malfoy made a whimpering sound and Harry realised he was clinging just as tightly to Harry, arms wrapped around his back, pulling him in, preventing escape should Harry be stupid enough to try to flee.
The second brush of tongue was even better and then Harry put his own into play, gliding it against Malfoy's in the same near-delicate manner. It was still nothing like Harry's dreams and ever so much better. The slow play was maddening and brilliant, building layer upon layer of desire with every wet swipe and soft suction.
At some point, Harry realised he was shaking and his hands were clenched so tightly on Malfoy's shoulders that they ached. A moment later he realised that the bus had stopped. He relaxed his fingers reluctantly and pulled his lips from Malfoy's even more reluctantly.
"I believe this is your stop, Potter," Malfoy murmured.
"Yeah," Harry said on a breath and then leaned in for another kiss. He wanted the night to go on forever. He would stay on the bus for eternity, if this was his reward.
Malfoy chuckled against his lips and then nibbled at Harry's tongue in a most delightful fashion. A shift of his hips brought an entirely different sensation into play. Harry was hard and aching, and had been for some time. He was heartened to note that Malfoy seemed to be suffering the same condition.
"Will I..." Harry asked between kisses, "will I see you tomorrow?"
"Not working tomorrow," Malfoy replied and then bit at Harry's bottom lip, working it with his teeth until Harry suspected it would still be puffy and swollen when his alarm went off. He didn't care.
"Come to my place," Harry said. "I'll make you dinner. Or take you to dinner. Or we'll skip dinner. Whatever you prefer."
"Why, Potter, you -"
A horn blared, causing Harry to nearly jump out of his skin. The nearby occupied bed creaked and Harry glanced at it. He had forgotten the sleeper completely and Zabini was apparently becoming impatient.
"I will owl you," Harry said and stepped back with a decisive, near-painful wrench.
"I will watch for it," Malfoy replied and gave him a slow smile. Harry took in his appearance once more. Malfoy's pale hair seemed luminous in the dim light of the streetlamps.
Harry turned and stumbled down the stairs, nearly flinging himself headlong at one point and wrenching his shoulder painfully when he grabbed at the railing to keep from falling.
"Night, Potter," Zabini called with what sounded like a distinct smirk in his tone.
"Goodnight," Harry said and stepped from the bus onto the pavement. Before he could turn and look for a pale figure on the upper level, the Knight Bus was gone.
Harry stood in bemused silence on the silent street for long minutes, and then he made his way inside and went to bed.
OOOOOOOO
The next morning, Harry did the unthinkable. He called off sick to work. He felt slightly guilty, especially when his simple "not feeling well" note spurred a flurry of owls, with no fewer than six people (including Kingsley and Hermione) asking if everything was all right. He supposed he should consider taking more days off as he wasted another quarter hour assuring everyone that he was fine and only slightly under the weather.
After that he crawled back into bed and dozed until nearly noon. Upon rising again, he felt almost human and realised that staying up all night would take some getting used to, should he ever get the urge to become a Knight Bus driver.
He smiled, thinking about Draco. Somewhere between their first kiss and Harry's subsequent heat-filled dreams, Draco had become Draco and no longer Malfoy, and Harry was fine with that. In fact, he was somewhat eager to find Draco and see what effect the use of first name would have, if any.
Since Harry had missed breakfast, he settled for making a toasted sandwich piled high with ham and oozing with cheese. Once his hunger pangs were sorted, he took a shower and spent far too long sorting through his wardrobe looking for something suitable. With a despairing frown, he realised he could use some of Malfoy's shopping expertise, because his entire wardrobe was filled with little more than Muggle t-shirts and oversized jeans.
Decisively, Harry threw on a pair of said jeans and a shirt and headed for Diagon Alley. Vaguely hoping he didn't run into anyone he knew, since he was technically "ill", he entered Madame Malkin's Robe Shop and allowed her to coax him into buying five new sets of robes. He felt much better when he Apparated home and hung his new purchases in his wardrobe. He kept one set on and paused to admire himself in the mirror. The chocolate brown robes over a striped green shirt and cream-coloured trousers looked amazing on him, he had to admit.
After a quick stop in the loo to brush his teeth and drag a comb through his hair, Harry Apparated to Draco's flat. Once there, he bit his lip nervously and cast a Tempus Charm. What if Draco was still asleep? Harry had no idea what time he typically awakened. It was 2:20, which should have been more than enough time for eight hours of rest, provided Draco had gone to bed as soon as his shift ended.
Resolving to knock softly, just in case, Harry lifted his hand and rapped on the portal.
The door opened immediately and Harry gaped at the sight of a wet blond man wearing nothing but a towel... but it wasn't Draco. It was Zacharias Smith.
They stared at one another for several moments and then Smith smirked. "Did you come to join the party, Potter? We were just about to get started. I never took you for the kinky sort, but one never knows what lurks beneath the surface, yeah? Or will this be your first foursome?" Smith stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Draco just loves it when Blaise and I fuck him at the same time. I wonder if he could take three at once. He probably could, he's such a little-"
Harry's jaw dropped and he could not dredge up anything to say, especially when Blaise Zabini appeared, also dripping wet and rubbing at his hair with a towel. Another was wrapped around his hips. He glanced at Harry.
"Oh, hey, Potter. Draco is -"
Harry did not wait for him to finish. He could well imagine where Draco was, either in the shower or the bedroom, or wherever. Images of Draco writhing with Zabini and Smith coiled through his mind like poisonous snakes. He shook his head and backed away from the doorway. Without a word, he Disapparated.
Once home he took off his new clothes and wondered if he would ever be able to look at them again. He felt completely numb. Had Draco - Malfoy - been having him on all this time? Had it been nothing more than a game to lure Harry into some twisted sex game? The thought of Zacharias Smith touching Draco left Harry nearly shaking with disgust, and something he admitted was a fuckton of jealousy.
Fucking Zacharias.
A loud pounding on Harry's front door startled him a moment later. Harry walked to the top of the stairs and waited. Malfoy's voice sounded through the portal.
"Potter! Harry. Let me in. I need to talk to you."
Harry sneered. "I'll bet you do," he muttered.
Malfoy knocked louder. "Damn it, let me in! I can explain!"
Harry glared at the door and went back into the bedroom. He had no fear that Malfoy could break through his wards, since he had strengthened them the moment he'd returned. After a few more minutes of shouting and knocking, Malfoy went away.
Harry supposed he was better off. He went downstairs, located a dusty bottle of Firewhisky, and poured a glass. What had he expected, really? Malfoy was a self-admitted playboy. He lived with Blaise Zabini, a man who would "sleep with anything with a pulse". And Draco - Malfoy - had never admitted to taking the Knight Bus job as anything other than a cure for boredom. Harry had projected his own romantic delusions onto the former Slytherin in order to excuse his own ridiculous desire.
Better he had discovered Malfoy's duplicity now than later. He wondered if Malfoy planned to go to the papers and confess Harry's lapse in judgement.
An owl swooped into the room and landed on the table. It was large and seemed to glare at Harry balefully. Harry swallowed and reached for the message, thankful when he retrieved it without a vicious peck. As soon as the scroll was in hand, the bird flapped its massive wings and departed without waiting for a reply.
Potter,
Thank you so much for accepting whatever Zach told you without bothering to verify the truth of the matter, nor take the time to recall that I am not your personal property.
Have a nice life.
Draco
PS - Fuck you.
Harry allowed the scroll to reroll and then fall to the floor. He felt far sicker than he had earlier.
Oh god, Zach had lied, and Harry had bought the deception without a second thought, without an instant of hesitation, and then had acted like a jilted lover instead of acknowledging that Draco was free to do as he liked, even if Zach had been truthful. Harry had fucked everything up in a single moment of jealous rage.
~TBC~
*hides*
