Harry dusted off his trench coat as he entered the lift of the Peace Preserver Headquarters. He wrung his sweaty hands together, swallowing thickly as the lift closed behind him with a soft ding.

He was about to interview for a position with the book burners. The very people who had come to Norwich Elementary and raided the school.

Bills were bills; he needed a second job to sustain himself, and he couldn't afford to keep drawing money from his retirement fund. Otherwise, he wouldn't have enough to actually retire.

His tutoring job had been terminated the day that Draco and the others had raided Norwich Elementary, and he was seeking . . . alternative employment.

The lift brought him up to the fifth floor of the Peace Preserver Headquarters, and for some odd reason he briefly wondered if Tom Riddle would be here.

Of course he won't be here, you oaf. You really don't think he has more important things to be doing?

When the lift opened for him, pure pandemonium met his eyes.

People were walking briskly everywhere, nearly everyone had a mug of coffee in their hands, and there were papers scattered all over the desks. Most of all, though, was the loud uproar of urgent speech. He couldn't decipher what anybody was saying; it was a jumbled mess of stress to his ears.

But Harry wasn't here to observe the state of the office; he was here to interview with Severus Snape.

A girl with a black bob walked past him with a stack of paperwork, paying him no mind, but he tapped her on the shoulder anyway.

"Erm, excuse me?"

She turned to face him, and he recognized her as the same girl from the raids last week that had been with Draco.

Draco . . . To say that Draco was attractive would be an understatement. The man was pure sex on legs, from his stormy grey eyes to his dainty, pointed features, to his white-blonde hair that fell around his face like a halo, to his lithe legs that stretched on for miles. Draco was probably the most attractive man Harry had ever laid eyes on.

And he worked for the government.

Now here Harry was, seeking a position in the very same department, because he needed the money, not at all because he was loyal to the cause. He would keep his head down and profess whatever loyalty he needed to profess, and collect his paycheck and go home. All there was to it. Simple.

And if he had to break a few children's hearts along the way, well, it was just a means to an end.

Still, he had no right to talk to Draco that way about working for the government when he didn't know Draco's story, nor did he know why he worked for the government. Surely everyone had their reasons. Surely not everyone was a blind, devoted follower? Harry had been so heated and protective over Sasha that he had failed to zoom out and examine the bigger picture. For all Harry knew, Draco hated the job as much as Harry knew he was going to.

"Yes, can I help you?" asked the woman. She had dark, beady eyes that bore into Harry.

"I was wondering where I can find Severus Snape?"

The woman glanced toward an office in the back of the room. "Back there. You must be that interviewee he's been expecting. He took his coffee black this morning, which means he's exhausted. He's normally intense, but there's been a surprising shortage of people wanting to work for us lately, so he's had a bit of a hard time finding a replacement for Millie, who quit."

Harry reeled back in shock from the pure bluntness of her words.

"Why'd she quit?"

"The stress was getting to her. Severus implemented a new incentive program, and the poor thing wasn't cut out for it. He had to know at least one person would quit from that program. He's been on the lookout for replacements for a while."

The woman smiled softly at him before walking away.

Harry headed toward the office and knocked softly on the door.

He waited a moment, then a tall, black-haired man opened the door.

"You must be Harry," he said in a deep voice. "Come in."

He ushered Harry inside.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Snape," said Harry, as Severus gestured for him to sit in a chair. As Severus occupied the seat opposite Harry, he said, "Call me Severus."

Then he cleared his throat. "So, what brings you to this interview, Harry?"

So, cutting right to the chase, then. Harry could handle that.

"You seem like a man who knows what he wants," said Harry.

Severus nodded.

"Ambitious, goal-oriented . . ."

"We're here to talk about you."

"Right. Well, what if I told you I've had a startling realization that books aren't what they're all cracked up to be, and I'd prefer to see more funding go into telly programs and our radios?"

"I'd say you weren't quite convincing enough."

Harry's heart rose into his throat. "Why not, sir?"

"Because I overheard two of my employees who went on the Norwich mission talking about how angry you were to give up your pupil's book."

Damn Draco. Damn him to hell. Wait a minute, that meant . . . that he worked here. Here! Harry's heart began thumping louder in his chest.

"Sir, I can assure you my-"

"Save it. I can tolerate many things, Harry, but a liar is not one of them."

Harry bit his lip.

"That being said, I'd much rather have an honest man come in looking for work, and who's optimistic about making a change and adapting to our society."

Harry felt himself brighten up. "That's exactly it, sir. I need a change. I was a reading tutor. It was bound to fall apart sooner or later. This is the opportunity I need to make a life for myself in our new society."

"You seem awfully optimistic for the way my employees were describing you."

"If you want the truth, I'm still frustrated at the way things turned out," Harry admitted. "I loved tutoring for those kids. Seeing their faces light up as they pronounced words correctly and wove through the plot of the novels made my entire day. It made me feel like I was worth something, like I could do something besides sit and watch telly all day."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "You are not satisfied with our television programs?"

Harry's eyes widened. He may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew better.

"No, of course I am, sir. I just . . . need a change. I need to make myself useful again."

"Well, you'd certainly be making yourself useful here," said Severus. "I need a replacement, to be frank. She worked alone, but I'd of course place you with a pair to train you."

"Train me?" asked Harry, feeling a little bold but proceeding anyway. "It's confiscating books. How hard can it be?"

"A lot more goes into it than just confiscating books," said Severus. "You'd be filing case reports, which my employees can show you how to do. You'd be conversing with education officials, delivering bad news and warrants with Riddle's official signature. How this works is Riddle warrants a school for renovation, we send a team of officials to that school with a squadron of Peace Preservers, and all the books are confiscated from that school and promptly burned. Then the schools are renovated for Riddle's curriculum."

Chills shot up Harry's spine. Did he really want to subject himself to all this? He was beginning to have second thoughts.

You need this job. Fuck your beliefs. They're not important anymore.

He thought back to Ron, and Hermione, and his other coworkers at the cafe. How would they feel knowing he accepted a government job?

"Does that seem manageable to you?" asked Severus.

Harry could only nod.

"And are you aware that you are required to go under oath upon officiation of your employment, swearing that you will remain firmly against books for the rest of your life?"

Harry felt faint. He nodded again.

"Are you willing to make such a promise, so quickly after your unpleasant run-in with my employees?"

"Yes." He cursed his voice for sounding so shaky.

"Good. My only question to you is, when can you start?"

"Oh. You mean I have the job?"

"You show potential, Harry. You have a fresh enthusiasm that not many of my employees possess. You will fit in nicely with the office, and I should let you know that I have devised an incentive program to motivate my employees to do their jobs more effectively. You will likely excel in this program."

Harry swallowed, tongue suddenly dry. The job was his. The job was his.

He was going to be working for the government.

"I accept, sir."

Severus nodded, a slight twinkle visible in his dark eyes. "Excellent. Now, back to my question. When can you start?"

"Right away, sir. I just need to figure out my schedule with my other job-"

"What other job?" Severus asked, harsher than was probably necessary.

"Erm, I work at Pleasant Cup Cafe-"

"I see. Well, you may keep that job if you wish, but I should warn you before you officially accept that this job is very demanding. We set the schedule for missions a week in advance, but they are often subject to change based on what Riddle prioritizes. I base the top competitors of my incentive program based on how quickly they finish the job, and how few books are left behind at the end of their sweep."

"I understand, sir," said Harry. "I'll speak to my boss."

"What I'm saying is that this job should and will come first, should you choose to work here."

"O-Of course, sir," Harry stammered.

"Very well, then," said Severus, snagging a pen from his desk and scribbling something down on a sheet of paper. He folded it up neatly and handed it to Harry.

"Here is my work cell. Please do call once you've figured things out with your boss at your other job."

Harry nodded at him and tucked the number in his pocket.

"It was a pleasure, Severus."

Severus nodded curtly at him. "Likewise."

Harry exited the office, and saw none other than Draco walking toward him with a stack of papers. He wore a pair of trousers so tight they must have been painted on him, and a crisp, maroon dress shirt. He looked . . . ravishing.

When Draco looked up at Harry, his grip on the papers slackened.

"Hello, Draco," Harry said stiffly, remembering how their previous interaction had gone down.

"Harry," Draco replied with an equal if not exceeding amount of ice.

Suddenly, the woman he'd talked to earlier appeared behind Draco and smiled at Harry.

"So? Did you get the job?"

"Job?" demanded Draco, sounding outraged. "What job?"

"Yes, yes I did," Harry said to her, pointedly ignoring Draco.

"Pansy, what are you talking about?" Draco asked, sounding short of breath.

Pansy smiled at her friend. "Harry's going to be working on our floor now."

All color drained from Draco's face, and his grey eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said smugly, enjoying the upper hand he had over Draco, a starch contrast from their last interaction. "I'm your coworker now."

"This has got to be a fever dream," muttered Draco, running a no doubt distressed hand through his impossibly blonde hair. Harry wondered how the locks would feel through his fingers, if they were soft as silk like he imagined them to be.

The woman, Pansy, placed a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"There now, Draco, it'll be alright," she said soothingly. Draco shoved away from her touch.

"Nothing will ever be alright again while he's working here," he said, and it sounded so childish Harry very nearly laughed.

"Oh, relax, I don't start today. You can have your precious office to yourself for a little while longer," said Harry, unaffected by Draco's childish antics.

That did nothing to calm the blonde; if anything, it only made him angrier, if his scowl and blazing look in his eyes was anything to go by.

"You'll have to excuse my colleague. This news has come as a bit of a shock to him," Pansy said to Harry, who chuckled good-naturedly.

"I can see," he agreed, glancing at Draco, who'd gone red.

"You don't get to come here and work for us after the things you said to us," Draco said hotly, pointing a shaking finger at Harry. "We're . . . We're just brainless, spineless idiots to you, aren't we? And yet here you are . . . Why are you here, Harry? Huh?"

They were fair questions. Harry hadn't treated Draco fairly last time they'd talked. He figured now it was time to make amends.

"You're right," Harry said. "I was . . . unfair to you. And I'm sorry."

Draco froze, glancing to Pansy for help.

"I have work to do," said Pansy, appearing to take Harry's apology as her cue to leave. She briskly walked away, leaving Harry and Draco to stew in Harry's words.

Draco said nothing, toying with a strand of his blonde hair, eyes glued to the ground. "You know nothing about me, Harry," he said to the ground.

"Hey," said Harry, unnerved by Draco's quiet mannerisms, liking it much better when the blonde was responsive and alive. "You really took me by surprise, at that school. I wasn't expecting to see you there, of all places."

That got Draco's attention. His head snapped back up. "Well, where were you expecting to see me, then?" he asked testily, a storm brewing in those grey eyes that absolutely captivated Harry. He could stare into them all day, if he wouldn't get written up as a creep.

"There's this little thing called money, Harry. It's pretty important. I need it to keep a roof over my head and keep myself fed."

"There's no need to be facetious with me, Draco."

Draco looked ready to rip his own hair out. "Incase you haven't noticed, which I'm sure you have because I know you aren't working here for your unwavering loyalty to Riddle, these jobs pay extraordinarily well. The government is taking more and more taxpayer dollars and using them to fund these programs. Without the government, we'd be nothing. We wouldn't have a roof over our head or food in our stomach. So before you lead with your self-righteous speech about how books are good for us, stop and think for a second about what you're saying."

That was when Harry realized.

"You're a reader," he said, and it wasn't a question.

Draco's eyes widened, and splashes of pink emerged on his pale cheeks. "I-I am not-"

"Oh, you so are," Harry said, chancing a step closer to the blonde. Draco did not back away.

"You may not be anymore, you probably haven't so much as smelled a book in years," Harry continued. "But you are a reader, through and through. Books weren't just a habit for you. You loved them. Didn't you?"

Now Draco's cheeks were properly aflame. "That is none of your business, Harry."

"You're smart. You know what you're talking about. You have a sharp wit. You're a reader."

"And you aren't? A tutor? Really, Harry? How long did you think that was going to last?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be caught off guard. "As long as it was meant to last," he responded cryptically, refusing to give Draco the satisfaction. "Not that you care or anything, but tutoring actually made me happy. Before your lot came through and destroyed it."

"Please," Draco scoffed. "You act like I have any semblance of choice in where I go and what I do. I show up to government. Government tells me what to do. I do it. Government pays me." He spoke patronizingly, and Harry about wanted to strangle him.

"You can't be happy in this job," Harry told him, and for the smallest iota of a second he saw something flash across Draco's face that resembled pain.

"O-Of course I'm happy," said Draco, straightening his posture and folding his hands. "This line of work is perfect for me. I relish in others' pain, so listening to the cries and shouts of children as we rip their precious books from their hands is like music to my ears."

The sarcasm was obvious enough to swallow Harry whole, though he chose not to comment on it.

"How long have you been working here?" he asked instead.

"How long- You mean how long I've been working in this company, or on this floor?" Draco asked, and wow, what a not-so-subtle way to brag about climbing his way up the corporate ladder.

Harry deadpanned him. "In this company."

"Five years," said Draco, as those dainty, delicate hands gripped the paperwork even tighter. "Two on this floor- Severus promoted me after my father convinced him to let me lead a mission, and I broke a new record for time spent sweeping."

"Well, how noble of you," Harry spat. "If you were such a reader, why are you here?"

Draco looked at him, as though he were seeing him for the first time. "It's . . . complicated," he said, though his voice sounded faint.

"I'm sure it isn't as complicated as you're making it out to be."

"You'd be surprised."

"Try me."

Draco smiled sadly, and Harry's chest constricted.

"Not now. There will be plenty of time for us to get to know each other while we work together."

"Draco-"

"It's not important," said Draco, voice strained. "I'm here now, anti-book and all. Hate books. Hate them."

"No, you don't."

Harry suddenly had a gnawing urge to pull him aside to somewhere private, though he wasn't sure where private existed in a government office, and tell him about the book club he'd found. He imagined Draco's eyes brightening at the mere prospect of something like that existing, let alone whether he'd get to join. Harry had faith Draco would be excited about it either way.

Draco sighed. "It isn't important," he repeated. "Books are a part of my past. A past I'll always cherish. But they're no more. I'm here now."

Did Draco feel trapped here? What was keeping him here?

"Draco . . ." Harry began, unsure how to broach such a sensitive subject, "y'know, you don't have to work here. There's other jobs that pay well."

Draco shook his head. "You don't understand, Harry, so stop pretending to. Just last week you were pointing fingers at us low-lives and hating us, so just-"

"Hate you?" Harry echoed, alarmed. "When did I say I hated you?"

Draco sighed, running a hand through his now disheveled blonde hair. "You didn't have to."

"Now you're putting words in my mouth," said Harry. "Draco, I never once insinuated that-"

"What is all this commotion outside my office?" came Severus' deep, booming voice. Draco coloured crimson at once, and Harry could feel his own cheeks pinken.

"N-Nothing sir, my apologies," said Draco, walking away from Severus and Harry toward his cubicle. Harry followed him, even when Draco sat down and began sifting through the pile of paperwork he'd set on his desk.

"We weren't done talking," said Harry, hoping he didn't come across too aggressive, but needing the blonde to know how he felt.

"Funny," said Draco, not even granting him the courtesy of eye contact, "I don't remember allowing you permission to follow me to my desk."

"Draco, if you'll please just listen-" Harry began, but he was interrupted again, this time by a dark-skinned man.

"Draco, how did you manage to score Hilton High? Theo and I scored higher than you last week. You know how badly we wanted that school."

"I dunno, Blaise. I haven't even looked at the charts yet, I've been swamped," the blonde responded. "But I dunno how many times I have to tell you- Severus bases it on average, not off of one lucky fluke."

Blaise looked affronted. "Theo and I are not a fluke!" he exclaimed. "You're just letting all this favouritism get to your head. When you land back down on earth, Draco, you'll find you won't have any friends in the office left. Millie already had her goodbye party, did you know that?"

Draco's eyes widened. "She did?" he asked, voice coming out small.

"That's right," said Blaise. "Wasn't invited? That's too bad."

"Unless there's something you want," Draco said coldly, "get the fuck away from my desk."

Blaise chuckled dryly. "Whatever." He sauntered away.

Draco turned his attention back to Harry. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.

Harry was flabbergasted. "You're going to just let him talk to you that way?"

"He's an arsehole. You'll come to learn that when you work here. You'll learn that some people aren't worth the trouble."

"This incentive program is really tearing apart the office, isn't it?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

"I notice you haven't shooed me away from your desk yet," Harry said with a soft smile.

"Because you're . . . persistent."

But a smile tugged at the corners of Draco's lips. Harry noticed him struggle to suppress it. He wanted to gather the blonde in his arms and kiss the sides of his face until he was grinning ear to ear so hard it hurt, and suppression was the furthest thing from his mind.

"Persistent, huh? You sure I'm not just creepy?"

"Oh, you're definitely creepy, Harry."

"That so?"

"I know so."

"Where's your proof?"

Draco faltered. "My what?"

"Your proof. That I'm creepy. Because, y'know, I'm not going to sit around and listen to empty words. You need to be able to back them up. Surely you do a lot of that in your line of work."

Draco blushed, promptly looking down to his paperwork and fiddling with a piece of paper.

"The fact that you're still talking to me, while I'm at work, when we hardly know each other, is creepy, Harry."

But something told Harry that Draco didn't really mean it.

"The fact that you haven't shooed me away from your desk means, at least to me, that you enjoy talking to me, at least somewhat," Harry said.

"Or I just have good manners."

"Is it really bad manners to shoo a creepy stranger away from your desk? You have a lot of work to do, after all."

If possible, Draco's cheeks reddened further, and Harry swelled with pride knowing that he was the one making Draco feel that way.

"You're right, Harry. I have a lot of work to do. And so will you, once you get here. I'm assuming Severus is going to appoint Pansy and myself to train you."

"Hmm, and why do you assume that?"

"You heard what Blaise said, didn't you? That she and I are at the top of the charts? Severus is a rather algorithmic man."

"I see," said Harry. "Well, far be it from me to keep you from completing your work. I'd best be on my way. My shift at the cafe starts in an hour."

Draco nodded. "I'll see you here in the office, Harry."

Harry smiled at him, and resisted the strong urge to touch him. "I'll see you."