Important Author's Note:
I've been a member of the collaboration Seven Shades of Drarry, for almost a year. This is our 4th anthology, which we have decided to name Seven Shades of Romance. This anthology is inspired by Valentine's Day and we have chosen popular Drarry tropes to occupy you this weekend. This is just a teaser of the first part of the story, however you can click on my author profile or search for "SevenShadesofDrarry" to access the full collection. I hope you all enjoy what we've put together for you.
There's No I In Team
Harry's footsteps echoed dully as he made his way down the corridor. He'd checked every door he passed so far and there was still no sign of where the git was hiding.
Honestly, of all the stupid ideas the Ministry had implemented lately, this latest one was at the top of the list. Inter-Departmental Unity and Co-Worker Cooperation, indeed. He tried not to, but he couldn't help but hold Hermione responsible for this. He'd seen her talking intently to Kingsley a few weeks prior, both of them frowning in serious concentration, scrolls of parchment flicking back and forth between them as they spoke. At the time, Harry just thought Hermione was trying to push her S.P.E.W. agenda once again, but now he wasn't so sure. This sunshine and happiness, let's-learn-to-love-each-other fest was just the sort of thing Hermione would likely come up with. Harry couldn't help but smile affectionately at his friend's idealism, but he found himself wishing this would be the last team-building exercise he'd be forced to endure.
Turning right, Harry found himself facing a seemingly endless row of doors. Meticulously, he made his way along the corridor, trying each door he passed, thanking Godric when each one was magically locked for the weekend. After a few moments, one of the doors opened, the owner clearly having forgotten to lock it. Eyebrows raised, Harry flipped on the light and stepped inside, eyes sweeping the room for any potential hiding places. After a quick check behind the curtains and under the desk, he left the room, wondering how much longer this whole exercise would take. Knowing Malfoy, he'd probably hidden himself somewhere ridiculous. Fucking Slytherin.
Harry walked a bit further down the corridor and paused at a dull-looking door, much less polished than the others. Cautiously opening what looked like a poorly stocked supply cupboard, he flipped the light switch and found himself looking at several mops, buckets, brooms, and a very bored-looking Draco Malfoy leaning against the far wall.
"Well, you finally found me." The familiar drawl had long ceased to grate on Harry, instead causing him to roll his eyes at his old nemesis. "Do come in, Potter, or you'll give the game away. Heaven forbid this torture should end prematurely."
Harry fought back a shudder as he looked into the cupboard at the space around the clutter. Of course, Malfoy would have picked the smallest room in the building to hide in. He forced a swallow past his thickened tongue and tried to step forward, but his feet felt stuck.
"Well? You want to get us caught or what?"
Harry forced himself to shake off his funk and stepped quickly into the cupboard. He settled himself against the wall furthest from where Malfoy was standing, pulling the door closed behind him as he went. His head thunked against the wall and he closed his eyes. As far as he was concerned, if he couldn't see it, it wasn't happening.
"The light, Potter. Honestly. I thought Aurors were meant to be half-decent at stealth and concealment?" The light beyond his eyelids vanished, plunging Harry into total darkness. Darkness was fine, though. If he couldn't see the cupboard, it wasn't really there.
"Do you think they'll take long to find us?" murmured Harry, determined to keep his mind off where he was.
"I hope not," answered Malfoy's disembodied scoff. "But then, you took half an hour to find me, so I'm not sure how well that bodes for the rest of the idiots on our team."
"They're not idiots, Malfoy."
"Really? replied Malfoy in mock astonishment. "Goldstein isn't an idiot? The man makes trolls look intelligent."
"He was in Ravenclaw, remember. He's not thick." This was good, Harry thought to himself. If he just kept his eyes closed and focused on Malfoy talking crap then maybe, just maybe, he would be fine.
"Maybe not academically, but the man has no intuition. I bet ten Galleons he's the last to find us."
"I don't know…Mafalda's pretty old." Harry could just picture the elderly woman shuffling around the Ministry, her cane tapping the tiled floors as she searched for their hiding place.
"She might be old, but she knows this Ministry inside out and her mind's still pretty sharp."
"Whatever." Harry sighed and kept his eyes closed. In all honesty, he couldn't care less about who found them last, as long as it was soon.
"What's up? Scared? Worried you'll lose?"
"You wish, Malfoy," he intoned, but as the familiar words fell automatically from his lips, he couldn't help but think the bet might help keep his mind occupied. "Fine. Ten Galleons that Anthony isn't the last to find us."
