…This a hickey or a bruise?
Draco slumped down in his plush leather spinning office chair, at his mahogany desk in his spacious office with a view at the Ministry. Everyone had been giving him strange looks all day. Disapproving looks. And not the, "Your father was a Death Eater, I don't trust you here" looks that Draco was used to. No, these were more like, "I know what you did last night," kind of looks. And, okay, he and Harry had engaged in some shenanigans in their flat the previous night, but what business was that of any of his coworkers'?
As he was stewing over this and wondering what everybody's bloody problem was, Blaise Zabini, his Hogwarts friend and post-war Auror's assistant, entered the office with some finished reports and stopped in front of his desk.
"Here are those reports you needed Drac-whoa!"
Draco's eyes snapped up to bore into Zabini's grinning face. "What the hell are you on about, Zabini? Something wrong?"
"For you, maybe," Blaise replied, stifling laughter. He knew better by now. Blaise quickly transfigured a mirror from a knickknack on Draco's desk.
"Hey, that was my—bloody hell! " Draco's indignation was cut short as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His mouth dropped open as he registered the sight of the large, black and blue bruise blooming on one side of his neck under his collar, and memories of the previous night's debacle came flooding back.
"Damn it, Potter," Draco lamented, dropping his head into his hands as Blaise burst out laughing. "You know there's a spell for that, right?"
