A/N: Happy Christmas to those of you celebrating! And... it begins...

PART II

-CHAPTER ONE-

A thirty-year-old Harry Potter leaned forward, scrutinizing his wild black locks in the full-sized mirror before him. He turned his head to the left, then the right, a frown slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Do you think I should try a new hairstyle?"

The wizard pulled his lips to one side, squinting one green eye up in the process as he waited for a response. "I mean, maybe it'd help..."

"Are you nervous?"

Harry said nothing.

"You should be, studies show healthy amounts of anxiety actually improve performance."

Harry focused on the reflection of a certain platinum blond over his shoulder. "Is that supposed to help me relax?"

Pansy Parkinson broke into a mischievous grin. "Well, ideally, no."

Harry closed his eyes, drawing in a measured breath. "Have you heard from him?"

"Harry, relax, you'll be great today. It'll just be a few reporters, your immediate employees, a representative from each of the departments, the entire Wizengamot, and anyone who's interested in hearing your speech," was said flippantly, his question ignored, but he couldn't be bothered to care as he started to have a mini breakdown, "and you don't need to change your hair, trust me, no one will expect it. I mean, you defeated Voldemort with it looking even worse, right?"

The freshly elected Minister of Magic spun around, glaring wholeheartedly at his assistant, and he questioned why he'd ever chosen a friend with which to work so closely. Oh yes, she'd asked him for the position after Blaise had gotten him incredibly drunk. He wondered, idly, how awkward the holidays would be if he fired her. "I'd been living in the woods for months, and Hermione cut it for me," he said slowly and then admittedly more snippy, "shouldn't you be doing something right now, like... oh, I don't know... answering the phone, going through my mail, or at least pretending you're actually working?"

Pansy lifted one perfectly arched brow, arms crossed lightly over her chest, the witch appearing unamused. "Wow. You're starting to sound far too much like Dray." With that, the witch lifted her chin and turned on her heel, clicking stiletto green heels echoing harshly off hardwood floors and mostly bare walls.

Harry waited until the door to his new office slammed shut before letting his shoulders droop. "Shit." The wizard turned back to the mirror he'd been staring into when Pansy had discovered him, and he shot it an unhappy glance before moving towards the oversized desk set in front of four, full-length, arched windows. He sighed and dropped down into his new black leather seat, resting his elbows on black marble; it was an executive chair, which he'd needed to match his new executive desk... that's what Draco had told him anyway. Draco. Harry closed his eyes harder, planting his face into open palms, hiding behind them. "Shit."

"Fantastic, that was just—bloody brilliant!" Ron Weasley shouted enthusiastically over loudly flashing bulbs and the rumbling crowd they were walking away from swiftly. Harry's best friend wore his auror uniform as he walked happily beside him. He'd been given an extended lunch break to hear the Minster's inaugural address, having not been on guard duty for the much anticipated event. He persisted when Harry remained silent. "Really, Harry, that was somethin', I don't know why you were so worried about it, you had them hanging off your every word! Even Shacklebolt didn't get that type of response. Don't you agree, 'Mione?"

"It's true, Harry," Hermione said, speaking up and sounding much more hesitant than her fiancé. The witch tucked a loose curly strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen from her bun as she shot discreet glances at the few wizards they passed before stepping into an elevator box alone; the trio on their way back up to Harry's office. When the doors slid shut she turned towards Harry and spoke more freely, if a little pushy too. "Harry, you handled that very well, I think most everyone was left feeling positive." She grunted when the elevator shot backwards predictably, catching herself on an outreached Ron. "Thank you, Ron. The only thing I'd have changed was your response to Finnegan."

The door dinged and Harry stepped out, striding forward, his jaw set.

"Harry, he's a reporter, he didn't mean anything personal, you know that! He was just doing his job!" Hermione's agitated words trailed behind him annoyingly. "You can't say things like that as the Minister of Magic."

"I don't know, if Finnegan'd said something like that about you, I'd have hexed him a few times, not just told him to go fuck himself, I think Harry was—"

The raven-haired wizard let out a slow breath through flared nostrils, narrowed green eyes focused on the oversized wooden doors that led to his office as he approached. Finnegan, his former dormmate turned cutthroat reporter had always been disturbed by his and Draco's relationship. Of course, he'd had to threaten him before to get him to shut up, maybe Ron was on to something... He began to tug at his tie, jerking at the crimson-hued knot until it was almost falling off, blocking out increasingly worried voices behind him. He lifted his left hand, and the heavy doors swung open.

He thought he heard the words 'where is Draco when you need him' muttered before he crossed over the threshold, and he gave an angry wave over his shoulder to close them back, leaving his friends on the other side. The raven-haired wizard closed his eyes as he began to stalk back and forth over a Gryffindor themed rug that ran in front of his desk and parallel to the monstrosity.

He wasn't ready for this. He was only thirty years old. How had he let himself be talked into accepting the nomination? He'd been a fool, so incredibly foolish. "Bloody mental," he whispered to himself as he stopped abruptly to scrub a hand through his hair, mussing it and getting angry when he realized he shouldn't. "I can't do this," he breathed, shaking his head and staring down at his rug, his wired brain slowly getting distracted. He paused in his melodramatics to study the rug. "Why is it green...?"

"I thought it good house representation. I'm assuming your speech didn't go how you planned, considering your Gryffindor senses took so long to kick in."

Harry blinked, and he looked up cautiously. His chair was turned away from him, and he couldn't see any of the wizard who owned the silky, smooth voice that had become etched in his brain over the years. He just stood there, breathing a little too quickly, wondering if he'd taken to hallucinations. He started to take a step forward but then stopped himself. "You didn't hear it?" he asked, his voice admittedly sounding like shit, but he didn't care.

The chair slowly turned around, revealing a pale but still very alive Draco Malfoy, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. "No, I'm very sorry I missed it, you know that, right?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but then snapped it back shut. He watched Draco lean back in his chair, crossing his right ankle over his left knee, feigning indifference as he waited for his response. At least he hoped it wasn't genuine. He felt his head begin to shake just barely. "Not really." He paused, something inside him wanting him to shout and throw a few hexes at the blond.

He sat down instead, on a chair that formed at his need. He leaned back on overstuffed cushions, letting his gaze drift idly to the ceiling, and he let out a full breath, the tightness around his chest that'd felt unbearably permanent for the past few weeks slowly dissipating. "I knew hiring Pansy was a mistake," he muttered without any venom.

"Clearly."

Harry felt his lips tug up tiredly, and he forced them back down.

"She wasn't going to let me in until I bribed her, if it makes you feel any better."

Harry tilted his head side to side. "It depends. What was the bribe?" he asked, hating himself for letting go of his anger so easily but relieved somewhat at the same time.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Green eyes flicked over to meet light grey, and Harry felt his heart jump inside his chest. "No, I want to know why you've been gone."

Draco seemed to consider the question. He uncrossed his leg, and he leaned forward some, resting his forearms on the cool stone desktop that probably closely matched his body in temperature. His expression gave nothing away. "Let's go home and catch up first. You look tired."

Harry balked, his anger rushing back to him. "I'm fine. Now, tell me why you disappeared three weeks ago and didn't contact me, or warn me, or anything. Do you have any clue how worried I've been?"

"I think I can imagine," Draco said back, quietly, sounding apologetic for the first time. "I will tell you, I promise. Just give me some time."

"Right." Harry sat for a long moment after that, not really capable of thinking, just waiting for some type of response to come to him from somewhere as his mind buzzed along unhelpfully. Draco had just not come home one day. He'd just... disappeared. He'd searched for him, had gone almost mental worrying about him, and Draco didn't even seem that bothered by it. He couldn't even tell him why.

Harry pushed up out of his seat all of the sudden, and he glared down at his boyfriend. "You should go," he said quietly, "I have work to do."

Draco stood slowly, sighing silently. He moved around the desk and toward Harry, who visibly stiffened, crossing his arms tightly at his approach. He stopped, leaving too much space between them, and he clenched his hands when his fingertips tingled. "You're right, I apologize for showing up unannounced." He took a careful step forward when he received no response, but the wizard seemed to soften some. Watching Harry's reaction closely, he dipped the couple inches needed to press his lips softly to the wizard's cheek, sorely needing the contact after so long. "I'll wait up for you," he murmured into his ear.

Then he stepped back stiffly and disapparated.