I had fun making this little chapter.

A little insight into Harry and Draco (feel free to skip this): Draco was on the losing side of the war, and as a result has had to change a lot of the ideals he was raised with. This, coupled with the hate he received by the Wizarding World, served to teach him humility. Though he is a prideful man, he also understands that his old, pompous attitude won't get him far in life. He is sorry about his past actions and he seeks redemption. On the other hand, there is Harry. He has been the golden boy since the war ended. Everyone loves him without really knowing him. He can do no wrong in the eye's of the public. This has made him lose a bit of the humility he used to have. He's no longer "just Harry." He's a savior. It's not that he has let this go to his head, but his current position has stopped him from achieving personal growth. However, when faced with a KIND Draco and a few confusing feelings, our Harry might just have that paradigm shift that you all wish for so badly.

Enjoy the silliness.


The door slammed behind Harry as he grabbed the closest object and flung it at the wall. What had once been a vase shattered with a satisfying clamour.

"ACCIO JOURNAL!"

Harry's journal flew rapidly through the air, fueled by his raging emotions. The small book hit him in the face before he even had a chance to catch it. Swearing, Harry picked up the journal and wrote a small entry.

Draco Malfoy isn't being a git. He must be up to something.

He then scowled and wrote again.

Buy orange juice.

The brunette undressed to shower, but when he stepped in, he was reminded of the muggle who he had told his name was Neville. This memory only served to agitate Harry more and he decided to go straight to bed.

Sleeping turned out to be an impossibility. There was no tossing and turning, but there was lying face up and glaring into the darkness without making a sound. Yet inside his mind, Harry was drowning in a storm of his own emotions. His thoughts were grains of sand, trapped in haboob of misery and torment raging inside of him. The storm within himself was of his own making bu- No. Not of his own making. Of Draco Malfoy's making. Who did that little ferret think he was, going about acting as if nothing had happened in their past? Acting as if he had done nothing wrong. Had Harry not spent countless hours obsessing over Malfoy's misdeeds? Looking on his map to see where Draco might be, where he disappeared off to, WHY he was in the girls' bathroom? Did that man not see the mark on his left arm every morning before he got dressed? How could he be so civil after everything? It almost made Harry's past not even matter. It was almost as if his days and months spent agonizing over Malfoy's next move at Hogwarts were pointless!

How could that man be good?

Taking a swig of a sleeping potion that he kept handy on his bedside table for these particular moments, Harry rolled over and fell asleep instantly.


"HARRY! WAKE UP!"

"Whu? I… Go away…" Harry slipped his arm around a man's neck, inching closer to his lips. He was so close… Freezing water poured onto Harry's face, waking him from his dream as quickly as he had fallen asleep. He jumped out of bed and yelled, "STUPEFY!" before tripping over his discarded clothing from the previous day and crashing to the floor, only to cut himself on the remnants of the vase he had destroyed.

"Bloody hell, mate. You're a mess."

Harry groaned. He was naked, sweating and bleeding, his hair in more disarray than that of usual, and dry drool cracked as he stretch his jaw.

"Ugh. Help me u- Thanks. Merlin, I thought I was under attack or something."

"Do you mind putting on trousers?"

"Wha- oh. Yeah. Fuck. I don't have any clean clothes."

"Just get what's on the floor and let's go! I want to get there before the shop opens."

Harry threw on the clothing he had tripped over, grabbed his wand, his glasses, and bounded out with Ron in tow.

When they reached the shop, they were luckily only five minutes later than they had agreed to be there, but Harry still looked horrible. Though he had wiped the drool from his face on the way over, his hair was an unruly mess and his wrinkled t-shirt, which was spotted with blood on the back from the cuts he had suffered due to the vase, gave him the air of exactly what he could not look like. He looked like an undercover Auror who had just come from a battle.

Draco Malfoy opened the shop door and gave Harry a once over before politely offering the brunette an extra shirt.

"What's wrong with my shirt, Malfoy?" said Harry with a hint of venom on his tongue.

"Yesterday, nothing at all. Today it is wrinkled and is splattered with blood. I'm sorry if this is inconvenient for you, but I do not allow my employees-" Harry growled. "Sorry. My… partners to walk around my shop with blood on their clothing. It's bad for business."

Unable to counter this, Harry nodded begrudgingly and followed Draco into a bathroom. The blond left and then quickly returned with a wrinkle free, blood free, crisp, clean, green polo. Slytherin green.

Harry clenched his left hand into a fist as he snatched the polo and tossed it into the sink. He removed his shirt, shoving it at Draco, and then made a move for the polo.

"Excuse me, Auror Potter. I think you should clean your wounds and… remove that small bit of glass before dressing in the clean shirt."

"What?"

"You are bleeding. Were you attacked this mor-"

"Does this look like it's any of your business?" Draco pursed his lips but made no reply. He did, however, wave his wand, causing Harry's wounds to close, and the blood and glass to vanish. This only served to agitate Harry further. It meant that he had to thank Malfoy. "Thanks, git." Harry pulled on the clean shirt and stomped to the till where Ron was perusing the ridiculously large book of items. Where did Malfoy get off making such a stupidly big thing anyway? If he knew anything about anything, he would get a laptop and put everything on there.

"Hate muggles so much that you can't stand to have a computer, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy almost looked sincerely shocked.

"I don't follow…"

"Hey, Ron." Harry nudged his friend. "Isn't Malfoy a complete twit for making this stupid book? If he wasn't such a muggle hater, then maybe he'd learn to use a laptop." There was silence from Ron. "Right?" Harry turned to look at his best friend whose ears had turned a bright shade of pink. The man was trying to act as if he had been too absorbed in the book to have heard a thing. Harry looked back to the Slytherin and caught him turning away with what might have been a slight smirk on his face.

Or perhaps it was just Harry's imagination…

"I simply do not know how to use a computer, Mr. Potter. I apologize for any displeasure that that may cause you," said Draco as he stretch up to place a rather expensive looking item on a high shelf.

Rolling his eyes, Harry sat down next to Ron and leaned back, waiting for the time to pass before the shop opened. He let his gaze wander around, looking at all the strange objects. There was a particular jar which he quickly became fond of. It contained nothing but slowly twirling lights of all colors. They almost looked like fireworks trapped in a slow motion loop.

There was something else, however, which Harry was even more interested in. Every now and then Draco Malfoy would bend over to pick up a box or to straighten out an item. Each time, his arse would be displayed for Harry's pleasure. Harry enjoyed it so much, in fact, that he hadn't even noticed what he was doing, or whose arse was causing him to salivate.

"Auror Potter," said Draco as he bent down to pick up a sheet of paper he had dropped. "Would you unlock the door? The shop opens in three minutes."

"Of course," said Harry pleasantly, standing up without removing his eyes from Draco's pert litt- What?

Draco seemed to freeze momentarily before standing up to turn toward Harry. The blond wore a slightly dumbfounded look.

"Well… Thank you."

Harry rushed to the door, unlocked it, and rushed back to his chair next to Ron, all the while swearing to himself. Fucking Malfoy and his fucking arse and his fucking fuck.

"Also, Mr. Potter, could yo-"

"Do it yourself, Malfoy! You have legs, don't you?!"

Ron coughed uncomfortably and Draco simply turned away.

It was going to be a long day.


"Nothing again, mate."

"Well, we'll see. Something is bound to happen eventually." Harry yawned and stretched, slipping out of his Slytherin green polo as he did so. He set in on the counter and was about to call Malfoy to ask for his own shirt, but the jar of lights caught his eye and he went to look at it a bit more closely. He leaned in, his nose and inch away from the glass containing what Harry now believed to be a small aurora. Where had the fireworks gone?

A thud sounded and both Aurors pulled out their wands, pointing at the shop window right next to Harry. A group of girls had gathered and pushed so close to the window that one of the group and actually fallen against it. Harry lowered his wand and smiled self consciously as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. This seemed only to agitate the girls further. Blushing, the Auror retreated back to the till where a now furious looking Malfoy stood.

Draco Malfoy grabbed Harry and pulled him back to the bathroom door, displaying an aggression that Harry had not seen from the man in years.

"I will not tolerate your abuse in front of my customers again, tomorrow, Potter! Your attitude today during store hours was unforgivable! And I certainly will not tolerate you… undressing anywhere but the bathroom! There are windows, Potter! If you can't manage to be professional then don't bother to show up at all!"

"Well if you weren't such a-"

"Tell me at what point I acted in any way that truly offended you today? When did I treat you with anything but kindness and respect? This is my shop. MINE." Draco breathed heavily as Harry tried to think of an instance where Draco had acted inappropriately, but he could not come up with anything at all. "Now... If you don't mind, please step in and you will find the shirt you handed me this morning."

The blond then looked away, but pointed through the door toward the sink.

"Is my 'rudeness' so disgusting that you can't look at me?"

"Please go inside."

Harry scowled, but did as he was told. He threw the door behind him only to find his shirt from that morning smelling clean. It was devoid of any imperfection. He sank to the floor where he sat for a long while, confused as to how Draco Malfoy, of all people, could be so damn nice. In fact, he stayed in the bathroom for so long that Ron came looking for him.

"Harry, mate. I've got to get home. 'Mione wanted to have dinner out tonight."

Harry stood and looked in the mirror, turning to try and see his own backside.

"I'll be right out!"

It was decent enough, but as much as it pained Harry to admit, it was not up to par with what he had spent all day trying not to ogle.