Days turn into weeks, and soon Draco and P Squared (as he has taken to calling Potter and Parkinson) start to feel like a proper team. They fall into a rhythm. Draco reads the Prophet in the mornings and reports on anything that sparks. Most of the time P Squared follow up and leave Draco to cover for Pansy at Flourish and Blotts, but sometimes he gets to go along. He has now been to more formal functions in the past few weeks than he had in the previous few years.

He feels as though he is proving himself to be useful. He has spotted things that neither of the other two have and, of course, he's the only one who can spark while reading the newspaper.

He wonders if they are ever going to start training him in more defensive and offensive magic. He had thought he'd heard Tusneem or Croaker mention that when he was brought on board. But as he has heard nothing more on the subject, he is starting to wonder if he had imagined it.

Draco and Harry continue to dance around each other. Their public kisses are intense and, Draco thinks (hopes?), portend their true feelings for each other. He finds them both enjoyable and immensely frustrating.

But they stay professional. Though Harry stays over most nights, they keep their hands to themselves. It is torture. But at least Draco has that copy of Witch Weekly to get himself off to. (Not that he needs it. Images of their one night and subsequent shower are burned in his memory.) In fact, he has several different copies, as their (potentially excessive?) PDA often makes the gossip pages.

He has grown used to Harry's presence in their house. He no longer starts in surprise when he wakes up to the sight of tousled black hair on the pillow next to him. But it hasn't gotten any easier. If anything, it's gotten harder. He wants more than anything to thread his hands through Harry's hair and press their faces together in a place that's not just where the gossip witches can spot them. But he can't, because that would make it real. And it's not - no matter how much it feels that way when they are in public.

Draco has thought a lot over the last month about the fact that Harry and Oliver had been lovers. From what he has gleaned from Harry's infrequent comments on the subject, they had been partners for years before finally becoming a couple just a few months before Oliver was killed. ("Not that that makes it any easier," Harry'd said.) Draco is still not sure how it makes him feel. He and Oliver hadn't been together in years but Draco still feels weirdly possessive of him. Or, at least, he did.

The fact that Oliver is dead still surprises Draco from time to time. In his mind's eye, he can see Oliver laughing; Oliver astride his broom; Oliver astride him… He tries not to let his mind go too far down the Oliver tunnel as it too often ends with Draco feeling abjectly miserable. At least he has the hazy images of Harry astride him to counteract the images of Oliver. Although, those images come with their own pang of sadness - though it is often sadness tempered with intense make out sessions. He's not sure if that makes it better or worse.

Perhaps the hardest part of it all is the fact that he has no one to talk about this to. He can't talk to Greg, because Greg thinks he and Harry are really dating. Same goes for Hannah and Ernie and every one of his other non-Ministry friends. And he can't talk to Pansy about it because he's not supposed to feel this way about his handler. Not that he could help it if he tried. And fuck knows he's tried.

So he does what he has always done during difficult emotional periods, and throws himself into work.

He spends his spare time at Flourish and Blotts pulling various defensive magic books off of the shelves and secreting them into his locker to read in his breaks. He practices trip jinxes on Luca and Joe, who are so accident prone that they do not notice. He takes advantage of the Ministry training rooms at the Cooler during his lunches, throwing up shields as the spell dummies hurl hexes at him. His after work runs get longer, though he now does them in the gym in the Cooler, rather than outside the way he had before. Harry had insisted for his safety, but had offered to run with him if he did want to run outside. So far Draco hasn't taken him up on this offer. He's not sure he wants to suffer the indignity of being slower than Potter on foot. (All those Quidditch losses still sting.)

He even fills out the paperwork for the Assistant Manager position that Big Dick keeps droning on about. He doesn't particularly want it, but if he's going to have more flexibility with his timetable and more of an excuse to stay at the store for his cover, it's something he needs to do.

It is nearing the start of the Hogwarts school year, which means Luca and Joe have stepped up their planning for their book fort. Draco is now slightly concerned about it, as it has steadily grown in scope as the month of August has gone on. Draco wishes they would show this kind of enthusiasm when planning book promotions, but knowing them, they would promote books about psychedelic plants or something similarly inappropriate.

However, he has not tried to stop them. (He has in fact agreed to help with some of the stabilizing spells.) He just hopes that it does not disrupt the store too much. He thinks he will try to stay out of it as much as possible so that if it goes wrong, it won't reflect poorly on his Assistant Manager application.

But that is still two days away and he has a weekend to go before that.

Or, he is supposed to.

Big Dick pulls Draco to the side as he is leaving Flourish and Blotts on August thirtieth.

"Draco," he says. "I hate to do this to you on your weekend, but I need to you to come in tomorrow." Draco's heart sinks, but he keeps his face impassive.

"As you wish," he says.

"It's just that it's the last day before the Hogwarts term, and I am expecting a bit of a rush. You know how it goes - last minute supply runs." Draco nods. His family, of course, were never so disorganized, but he understands that it can happen.

"I will be here, sir," Draco says.

"That's my lad," Big Dick says, clapping him on the shoulder. Draco forces a smile, then nods at Big Dick and walks away. He meets Greg in the locker room and scowls as he changes into his running clothes. If today isn't the start of his weekend, he might as well go for a run before heading home.

"You're not coming to the pub?" Greg asks. Draco shakes his head and explains that Big Dick needs him to come in tomorrow. "Tough luck, mate. I'll let Harry know you'll be late."

Harry and Greg had become fast friends in the past month and Draco isn't sure how he feels about this. Sure, it is great that his fake boyfriend and his roommate get along, but what will happen if they ever get the Reliquary out of his head or they don't need him anymore? Will they fake break up? And will he still have to see Potter because now he and Greg are friends? It is all so complicated. And when things are complicated, all Draco wants to do is run away from them.

And so he makes his way over to Florean Fortescue's and lets himself in through the employee entrance in the back. No one is around and so he runs and runs on the treadmill until his feet are numb and his lungs are burning. Then he showers and joins Greg and Harry at the Cauldron.

Harry has become a fixture at the Cauldron on weekend nights. Draco too, but that is nothing new. It has become such a regular thing that Hannah now just directs them straight to the VIP room when they walk in so that she doesn't have to deal with the gossip witches who have quickly realized that this is Harry's new routine. (Greg thinks this is great. He loves being a VIP.)

Indeed, when Draco enters, Hannah immediately points to the backroom. Draco rolls his eyes but smiles at her. He spots the gaggle of press at a table near the VIP door and pointedly ignores them as he walks by. He wonders if Harry has seen them and if he will therefore insist that they go get drinks at the bar "like regular people" so that they can be seen with Harry's hand in the back pocket of Draco's trousers or some such thing. It's not that Draco minds these extracurricular activities per say, but sometimes he wonders if Harry is trying too hard. Or if Harry is looking for any excuse for intimacy.

Harry spots him as soon as he walks into the room and his face lights up, the way it always does when Draco walks into a room that Harry is in. He tries not to feel too pleased when this happens as he's (mostly) sure it's all for show. But a thrill goes through the pit of his stomach nonetheless.

"Oh good," Harry says, jumping up from behind the table. "You're here." Draco leans in and Harry kisses him quickly on the cheek. "I'm glad you finally made it." Harry's eyes are sparkling in excitement and Draco has to suppress a smile at his enthusiasm. He glances over at Greg, but his friend's expression stays neutral.

"I don't know about finally," Draco says, looking at his watch. "I was only gone for an hour." Harry waves his comment away.

"I'm buying a house," he says. Draco blinks at him.

"Another one?" Harry waves that comment away too.

"I'm going to sell that one," he says. Then he stares at Draco in a way that makes Draco think he is trying to convey something, but whatever it is, it is lost on the blond. He nods to move the conversation along. "The new one is much closer. Just a few streets over from here actually." At this, Draco's eyebrows lift in surprise. "It's technically still Muggle London, but it's much closer than Chelsea."

"But I thought you liked living in Chelsea," Draco says. Harry pulls a face.

"I did," he allows. "But what with the ice cream parlor, and everything, I wanted to be closer to here." Which Draco reads as closer to him, so that he can keep even more of an eye on him. Like he doesn't already basically live in Draco's house. But Potter's business is Potter's business and if he wants to buy a new house, that is his prerogative.

"Well congratulations then," Draco says, allowing a small smile to cross his face.

"And since it's so much closer," Harry continues. "I was thinking you might, uh," Harry pauses, and blushes. "Stay over more."

Draco lifts an eyebrow at him. They never stay at Harry's house. Harry himself rarely goes there. He makes excuses like 'but this is closer to both our workplaces' and 'but most of my things are here now', but Draco suspects it is because the house reminds him of Oliver, even if Wood's tenure there had been brief. Draco can't blame him. It had been months before he hadn't felt lonely in his own bedroom.

But buying an entirely new house seems like a very expensive way of fixing the problem. But then, Potter isn't lacking for money.

"Only if I can have my own drawer," he says. "I'm not bringing things back and forth."

"You can have two drawers," Harry says.

"Deal." Harry grins.

"Good, now let's go get a drink." He stands. "Greg, d'you want anything?" Ah yes, Draco thinks. Time for their public display of affection. But his stomach still flips over in a pleasant manner as Harry threads their fingers together. And Circe does his wish this were real.

...

"Mmph, where are you going?" Harry asks, squinting up at Draco in the early morning light.

"Big Dick has me pulling an extra shift today," Draco whispers. "Go back to sleep." Harry frowns at him, but his green eyes are all but closed.

"Is Pansy going to be there?"

"Probably not, but I'll be fine. Go back to sleep." Draco tiptoes out of the room as Harry's eyes flutter closed again.

...

While it is not as busy at August 1st, August 31st is certainly more busy than a normal Flourish and Blotts day. Even Big Dick is out on the floor, helping customers find what they're looking for. Draco finds himself behind the till for most of the morning, which means it all but flies by as family after family buys stack after stack of books. Jamie works the register next to him, and they start a good natured competition of who can move the queue along more quickly. Draco wins, but only barely as Jamie actually seems to be trying today. Draco thinks it is a nice change.

Draco reads A Compendium of Practical Defensive Magic while he eats his lunch, and then works the floor for the afternoon. Before he knows it, it is an hour from closing time.

The volume of patrons has drastically dropped by this point, so Draco spends his time restocking some of the shelves. He is just placing Divination for Fun and Profit in its place, when he catches sight of the man walking through the door.

And he sparks.

The man is an unnamed suspected rare book thief, which explains why he has come in to Flourish and Blotts. (Not that criminals don't buy books, just that no one else has wandered into Flourish and Blotts and sparked the Reliquary before.)

Draco's mind races with relevant facts about the man. He's 1.83m tall with a mostly nondescript face. Mousy brown hair, brown eyes. He allegedly favors books written in the twelfth century, particularly first editions. He usually targets elderly witches, flattering them until they let him into their home. At which point, he is suspected of altering the security wards on the house and sneaking back at the dead of night for his thievery. He has never been caught, but the Ministry believes his face to look like the man who entered the store. Or, at the very least, the Reliquary thinks this is the man, from a composite of witness pictures.

Draco takes a deep breath. He knows he should contact at least one of P Squared, but he feels like he might be able to manage this on his own. He watches the man as he walks around the store, and then decides it would be best to at least tell Potter something is up.

He sends a quick message on his watch, all the while watching the man out of the corner of his eye. The man has stopped in front of their rare book collection, which is behind a complicated mesh of spells that only Big Dick can undo. Draco shoves another book onto its shelf. As he does, he realizes, he should try to get an image of the man's face, so that even if he leaves, they will have a reference. He takes a deep breath, straightens his robes, taps his wand briefly to his temple to activate a recording spell and walks up to the man.

"Hello sir," he says. "Is there anything I can help you with?" The man turns and his eyes rake Draco's frame. His mouth curls into a small sneer.

"I don't believe so," he says. "You're not the manager."

"I could get him for you," Draco offers, squashing down any feelings of indignation that he has. The customer is always right, even if they're a dick.

"If you would," the man says and turns back to the display. Draco obliges, smile plastered to his face, and then watches from a distance as Big Dick unlocks the wards. The recording spell catches the whole thing, but in the end, the man does nothing, merely looks at the books with Big Dick and then leaves.

Harry passes him on his way out. And then Draco feels ridiculous, because he has now called Harry over to Flourish and Blotts for no reason.

"What's up?" Harry asks as he draws close to Draco. Draco shakes his head.

"False alarm," he says. He taps his temple again with his wand and the recording spell ends. Draco waves his wand twice and then points it at the ceiling. From there, he knows, that the recording will go to the Cooler, where it will be stored in a Ministry penseive until someone cares to look at it. It feels like a waste, but it is protocol to send it either way.

"Well then, when are you off?" Harry asks instead. Draco pockets his wand again and checks his watch.

"Half an hour."

"Can I stay with you til then?"

"Only if you don't get in the way."

This is a dance they have done before. Harry arrives at Flourish and Blotts before the end of Draco's shift and Draco tries to stock shelves while Harry tries to distract him in various ways since they are in public. And when they are in public, Harry seemingly can't keep his hands off of Draco. Occasionally, Witch Weekly, or some other such magazine, manages to get a picture of them through the store windows. Joe and Luca get excited when this happens and then spend the next few days tailing Draco around the store, hoping to make it into a picture themselves.

Draco walks back to the cart of books he was shelving and continues where he had left off when the Book Thief had entered the store. Correction, he thinks to himself. Alleged book thief. He picks up a book and finds its place on the shelf, then moves the cart on.

As he does, he feels Harry walk up behind him, so he skips out of Harry's grasp, a smirk on his face, and shelves the next book.

"Tease," Harry mutters.

"I'm at work, Potter," Draco says, pulling the cart away as Harry tries again to wrap his arms around Draco's waist.

"What if these books magically shelved themselves?" Harry asks, pulling out his wand.

"You know there's a reason we do it by hand," Draco admonishes. The reason being that some of the books react poorly to magic. Poorly being the polite way of saying that some of the books explode, fly away, change colors, catch fire, turn into animals, vanish, etc when exposed to magic.

"Fine," Harry grumbles. Then he lunges at Draco and pins him against one of the bookshelves. Draco can't help it. A tiny, pleased grin flits across his face. It's such a small grin, he imagines that you would have to be looking really hard to catch it. But Harry does. The brunet's mouth quirks up at the corner too. So quickly, Draco almost misses it before Harry's lips press against his. And not for the first time, Draco thinks that there might be something real between them. He even pretends it for a moment as Harry's tongue slides over his bottom lip. He delights in the idea of it for a whole three seconds of kissing before he pushes Harry away and reprimands him.

"So I put the deposit down on that house," Harry says, following Draco as he finishes up with his cart of books.

"Oh?"

"Yes, if everything goes to plan, I will move in in about a month." When Draco doesn't say anything, Harry continues. "Did you want to come and see it?"

"It's your house, Potter," Draco says. "It makes no difference to me." Draco glances back and sees that Harry looks briefly crestfallen before his face smooths itself out again. And Draco relents. "Unless," he says, "you want a proper eye to look at the place. You know, like someone who had single handedly helped Hannah Abbott fix up the Leaky Cauldron." Harry gives him a grateful smile.

"Yes, exactly," Harry says. Then he grabs Draco's hand and pulls him into another kiss. And Draco's heart aches, wishing it were real.

...

It is all Harry can do to stay professional. The more time that he spends with Draco - and he spends a damn lot of time with Draco - the more he likes him. And the more he likes him in a way that is not allowed in a professional setting. Draco is his asset for godssake. He's not supposed to fall in love with him. But Harry fears that is what is happening.

It is different than it was with Oliver. Sure, he and Oliver had been good together. They had cared for each other. But there hadn't been the same kind of depth of feeling that Harry is developing for Draco.

But is Harry altogether surprised? Not really. He's been obsessed with Draco Malfoy in some form or another since he was fourteen.

So Harry takes every opportunity he can to be physically affectionate in public. Since in public is the only place where he can act on his feelings while being hidden behind Draco's cover.

Sometimes he wonders if Draco suspects how he feels, and sometimes he wonders if Draco returns the affection - the blond certainly seems enthusiastic - but he doesn't dare ask. Because it wouldn't change anything even if he did. But often, when they are wrapped in each other's arms or feverishly kissing against a bookcase, it feels like there's no way that their relationship is not going there. Even if it shouldn't.

...

"What do you think?" Harry asks, gesturing up at the tall building before them.

"It's a house," Draco says, doing his best to sound bored and not jealous. Because it's a nice house. Probably twice the size of Draco's. Harry frowns at him. "It's a nice house," Draco amends. He is not sure why Harry cares so much about his opinion on this damn piece of real estate, but he does.

"Let's go inside."

And so Draco follows him into the cavernous entrance hall. Draco looks around appreciatively. It reminds him much more of the Manor than Potter's previous house. But it's not as ostentatious as the Manor, and Draco likes that about it.

"Don't you also own the old Black house?" Draco asks as they make their way over to what is presumably some sort of sitting room - probably because the room is devoid of furniture, save for some built in bookshelves surrounding a fireplace. There is a large bay window looking out onto the street, and a connecting door to what might be a dining room on the opposite wall.

"Uh, yes," Harry says. "But I never go there. The house elf hates me." Draco thinks back to when he was a child, visiting his Great Aunt Walburga with his mother. He can't recall the house elf, but then, Draco at that age wouldn't have paid any attention to house elves.

"But he's your house elf?" Draco asks.

"Yes." Harry looks uncomfortable.

"And you never get him to clean your other house?"

"He's old," Harry says. "And he hates me."

"So? He's a house elf."

"I think you and I may have different ideas about house elves," Harry says quietly. He turns and walks into the maybe dining room. Draco sighs and follows.

"You know," he says. "The elf is probably sad about having nothing to do. That's probably why he hates you." Harry turns suddenly to face Draco.

"Can we not talk about Kreacher?" he snaps. Draco puts his hands up in surrender.

"I'm just saying, because you didn't grow up with house elves." But he trails off and says no more.

"I know a lot more about house elves than you think," Harry says. And his tone says this is the end of the discussion. Draco swallows anything else he was thinking about saying and instead looks around the room. Without furniture, it's hard to tell what it will be like. But it is large and the walls are painted a nice Gryffindor red. He is about to remark on this to Harry, when he notices that the brunet is staring at a single spot on the floor, and he looks almost as if he is about to cry.

Without thinking about it, he reaches out and puts a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry flinches slightly but does not pull away.

"Are you okay?" Draco asks. Harry takes a deep breath and gives a small nod. "No you're not." Draco pulls Harry into a hug and the other man slumps into his embrace.

"Sorry," Harry whispers.

"Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to be sorry about."

"I just." Harry sniffs. "It's all just so hard."

"I know," Draco says. He starts stroking the back of Harry's head, his hand smoothing down Harry's unruly hair. He doesn't know what Harry is talking about, but he doesn't need to.

"But I shouldn't be taking this out on you."

"You're not taking anything out on me," Draco says. He guides Harry out of the maybe dining room and back into the entrance hall. He sits him down on the stairs that take up the left side of the hall. He sits next to him and wraps an arm around Harry'a shoulder. Harry leans into him and Draco rests his chin on the top of Harry's head.

"I shouldn't have said anything about your house elf," Draco says into a tangle.

"It's not about Kreacher," Harry snuffles. "It's," and here Harry pauses for a long time, seemingly in order to collect the words he wants to say. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been to be me?" But somehow it doesn't sound whiny when he says it. It just sounds so terribly, desperately sad.

"No," Draco whispers. "I don't imagine that I do." He thinks back to Harry's outburst at the sushi place the day P Squared had taken him to see Tusneem. So many people that he loved had died. And the worst part was, Draco knew he was partly responsible for some of those deaths. Hell, he was fully responsible for Dumbledore, even if he didn't say the final spell that sent the headmaster over the side of the Astronomy Tower.

"I'm so sorry for everything," Draco whispers. Without thinking, he kisses the top of Harry's head. But Harry doesn't seem to notice.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Harry says.

"Dumbledore."

"Knew what was coming and was already dying. He would have died with or without you."

"Really?"

"Were you not listening during your trial?" Harry sits up and looks Draco in the eye. Harry's eyes are rimmed with red.

"Uh."

"I testified about this."

"Those weren't," Draco starts to say but then he stops. He bites his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth for a moment. This is more of a discussion than he wants to have sitting on the stairs of Potter's new house, but as he doesn't have the luxury of choosing where they talk about this, he plows on. "Those weren't great days for me. I don't remember much of them. I think I blocked out a lot of what was happening." Harry nods.

"But this isn't about me right now," Draco says. "You're the one who is upset. I should be comforting you, not the other way around."

"You're allowed to be sad about things too," Harry says. "I don't have the monopoly on shitty things happening to me."

"I'm aware," Draco says. "But right now, you get to have the monopoly on crying and feeling sorry for yourself." He pulls Harry back down until his head his resting on Draco's shoulder again.

They stay that way for a long time. Long enough that Draco is surprised that Harry doesn't get a crick in his neck. (Or maybe he does, but doesn't say anything about it.) Finally, Harry whispers,

"Thank you," and sits up. He wipes the residual tears off of his face and then slaps his palms down on his thighs.

"Shall we continue with the tour then?" He stands and pulls Draco to his feet. "Where were we? Oh, yes, the kitchen."

...

The house is impressive and nicely designed, but it isn't until they get to the master bedroom that Draco gets truly envious.

"So, this is the closet," Harry says, walking into a small room off of the bedroom. Draco's eyes go wide as he looks around at the built in shelves. You could fit all of Draco's closet in here and still have over half of the space empty. And this is even after all of Draco's new clothes from Bertie. Harry must see Draco's amazement, because he chuckles. "Do you like it?" he asks.

"Like it? Potter it's amazing. I wish I had one of these."

"Then why don't you?" Harry asks. "You're a wizard, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I'm no good with architectural magic. In case you couldn't tell, my house is exactly as I bought it, because I don't trust myself to add anything in case it collapses in the middle of the night."

"Fair point."

"And hiring someone to do it for me is expensive." Unsaid is the fact that the Malfoy assets have been frozen since the war and Draco lives off of his Flourish and Blott's and Ministry salaries. (The Ministry salary had been disappointingly small once Draco had started to receive it, but then he isn't an agent. He is just the mostly useless bloke with all the secrets in his head.)

"Well," Harry says, looking around the closet. "This half is yours."

"That's more than a drawer," Draco says. Harry shrugs.

"If you want it, you should have it," he says.

"You know I'm not moving in with you, right?" Draco isn't sure if he even would if Potter asked. Not that he would ask.

"Of course," Harry says. "But should you want to keep things here, that half is yours." He turns and walks back into the bedroom. Draco takes a deep breath, aware that they have just skirted around admitting there might be something more to their fake relationship (again), and follows Harry back into the master bedroom.

"And of course," Harry continues. "This sink is yours." He points to one of the two sinks in the en-suite bathroom. "Should you need it."

...

Harry isn't sure why he's setting aside space for Draco in his new house. Draco has his own house. Indeed, a lot of Harry's things are currently there. But he's said it now. And he can't take it back even if he wanted to, which he doesn't.

Harry has stopped questioning his emotions when it comes to Draco Malfoy. He knows there is no point in even trying. Draco has captured a part of his heart, whether he knows it or not, and whether Harry is ever allowed to act on it or not, and that's that.

Of course, this means that for any mission they bring Draco along to, Harry has his heart in his mouth, worrying for Draco's safety. When Draco had sent him the message about the potential book thief this afternoon, Harry had felt like he had nearly had a heart attack. He had been in a meeting with Croaker and had all but run out of the Ministry to get to the apparation spot. His heart hadn't stopped hammering until he had seen Draco standing by one of the shelves and it had taken all of his self restraint not to throw his arms around the man as he walked up to him. (Of course, he had taken the first natural opportunity to shove Draco against a bookshelf and kiss him silly).

It's not that he thinks Draco can't handle himself. He knows Draco is a perfectly competent wizard from their time at Hogwarts. But bad things can happen to the most competent of people. And doesn't Harry know it.


We're in the midst of moving hell right now, so all comments and favorites are appreciated to inspire me to write, not pack ;)