A/N: Well, the previous drabble was supposed to be a one-shot, but I just couldn't resist writing a follow-on ficlet. I may add a few more if and when I get ideas for them. Big thank you of course goes to everybody who reviewed the last instalment.

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If there was one thing worse than Draco's incessant whining about the flat's abysmal lack of cleanliness (most of which he was personally responsible for), it was his constant moaning about the 'heartless' manner in which his former friends had abandoned him.

"...so Pansy left the country without telling me, Crabbe and Goyle have joined a Muggle death metal band called All Hale Saturn – they never were much good at spelling – and Bulstrode's threatened to crucio me if I ever set foot on her property again."

"Yeah, funny how people can get when their guests get so plastered that they can't tell the difference between the bathroom and the linen cupboard," muttered Ron, cringing at the recollection of the thunderous look on Millicent's face when he'd turned up to remove the too-drunk-to-apparate Draco from the premises.

Draco however did not seem to register this comment. "Oh, and Zabini and Nott are always too busy with that advertising agency they've just opened in Knockturn Alley to see me, the bastards."

Ron fought down the urge to mention that Zabini was probably still also a tad pissed off about the obscene Christmas card Draco had sent to his mother.

"Why don't you ask them for a job then?" he said, having a good idea that the suggestion that Draco should find some for of employment would be in vain, but still inclined to give it a go on the off-chance.

Draco's nose wrinkled. "A job working for those two, you must be joking."

"What about a job working for somebody else then? You know that my bills have almost doubled since you've been here."

The other man gave a sniff. "Yes, but that's because I've been helping to improve your sense of taste. If you were still on your own you'd probably still be buying everything from that dreadful It's All a Sickle shop. Anyway, it's not that I don't want a job, it's more that I haven't found the right one yet."

Sighing, he decided that he might as well drop the topic. Draco's idea of the 'right job' probably involved being made Minister for Magic; or at the very least Magical Ambassador to Haiti.

The next day however Ron returned home to find a very smug looking Draco reclining on the sofa.

"Guess what Weasley?" he said, still insistence on addressing him by his last name despite the fact that they'd been sharing a flat and having intimate and rather vigorous relations for several months now.

"What?"

"I've got a job?"

Ron gaped. "What, you mean a real one?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"But who would employ... I mean, what doing?"

"I am now the official Thursday night life model for the Dionysus Hall Drawing Circle," Draco said, looking distinctly pleased with himself.

"So let's get this straight, instead of lounging around naked on my sofa on Thursday evenings you're going to be going to be lounging around naked on a sofa in front of an audience."

Grinning, Draco nodded

Ron sighed and tried to repress the irrational pang of annoyance that welled up within him at the thought of other people getting to see Draco naked.

After all, it wasn't as though they were in any sort of 'relationship'.