"You're late, Draco." Harry said without looking up, as Draco rushed through the office door. "Sit," he instructed, and pushed his glasses onto the top of his head. Draco sat nervously as he looked at the green emeralds in front of him, and he played with a shirt button as Harry spoke. "So, I heard from Luna that you're having trouble," he hesitated, "in general. Now, I'm not just your boss, Draco," his tone softened, and he leant forward on his hands, "I'm your friend."
Draco scoffed, "you're clearly mistaken! I'm having no troubles-"
"Tell me about your house."
"I haven't got one. I live in a bedsit! We went through this-"
"And how much do you get to eat?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"Who I see, where I go, how much I get paid."
"Do you eat enough?"
Draco faltered, and Harry sighed heavily. He knew he was going to regret this, somehow, but he Accio'd a document and quill, and handed them to Draco. "Sign this, and you'll own half of my house. Or rather, you'll be living with me. "
"What? No, I'm sorry, Mister Potter, but I really can't accept this. I can't afford rent at Mr Watson's as it is, let alone a London Mansion... No," Draco shook his head firmly, "I refuse."
"Why?" Harry asked, knowing that this was coming.
"Because- well- I just can't, okay! I am a Malfoy, and I'll stay at the bedsit until I can get the Mansion back." Draco stammered, and looked at his lap.
"How about," Harry stiffened, "you stay with me- free, of course- until you get your estate back?"
Draco curled his top lip slightly, but picked up the quill. His handwriting was neater than Harry's, even his signature was legible. "There," he sighed, and pushed the paper and quill back into Harry's hand.
"I'll give you your key tonight," Harry stood up, "you can Side-Along with me later. I'm leaving at four, is that okay?" Draco nodded. "Anything in particular you'd like for dinner?" Draco shook his head. "My treat?" And again. "A takeaway, then? You can't object to that?"
"If it pleases you," Draco mumbled, and walked out the door.
At three minutes to four, Draco was waiting at the mess hall.
It was a smaller version of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and for that, Draco was partly grateful. A lot of rectangular tables and mismatched chairs were strewn about, and a huge set of doors led into the kitchens. House Elves were payed in the Ministry, thanks to Hermione, though a few were disheartened by this. There were a few squib and magical chefs, too, which made up for variety. A self-service coffee machine was Draco's favourite part, though, because Harry had given him his reusable token for it. His record was about seventeen cups of black coffee in a single working day.
"Draco!" Harry came through a smaller set of side doors, with a lot of parchment in his arms, "I'm glad you're here! Listen, I got a telephone number for an awesome Thai restuarant that we could order from? Or I could cook us something to eat? I've got a few beers in the fridge, and I'm pretty sure that Ron left a bottle of vodka somewhere in my bedroom. I've yet to find it, but I'm almost certain it's there."
"Uh," Draco opened and closed his mouth, "shall I get my stuff first?"
"Oh," Harry smacked his forehead, which was a feat in itself with all the work, "shit. Yeah, that's a good point. Okay, well we can Apparate to mine, I'll get your key and drop this paper work off, and then we can sort your stuff out?"
"Do you have to come with me?" Draco frowned, and played with his wand in his back pocket. His suit still dripped off him, and the black made him looked like a poorly tailored ghost.
"Well, I can help you with the packing, if you'd like?" Harry raised an eyebrow, and shifted the parchment in his arms.
"Sure," Draco muttered, not quite sure why he was agreeing.
"Awesome," Harry grinned, grabbed Draco's sleeve, and Apparated to his own home.
