Disclaimer: Everything recogniseable belongs to J.K. Rowling... The rest is from my own imagination.
Draco woke feeling very depressed, perhaps even more so than he'd been the night before when Harry had left him in a whirl of fury. He rolled onto his back in his huge four-poster bed in the master bedroom, having taken it over as his own when he'd moved back home. Though he liked the space, it got very lonely from time to time.
He thought back to the night before, after Harry had left. He'd collapsed back onto the couch, trembling slightly from the lust he'd been unable to release, picked up Harry's glass of firewhisky and drained it. He swore he could still taste Harry on the rim of the glass. He hadn't meant to make Harry so angry, he just didn't want it to end the way it had with Sebastien. The sex had been great, but in the end, it was all they had. He covered his head with a pillow and groaned. He considered sending Harry an owl to find out if he was alright, but upon recollection of Harry's temper, thought better of it, fearing for the poor owl's life. He'd give him a day or two to cool off; perhaps things would look better later in the week. Draco Malfoy, after all, was no quitter.
He glanced at the large clock on the opposite wall and slowly got out of bed. Sunday lunch would be served at Villa Malfoy in half an hour. He stepped out of his clothes on the way to the shower, grumbling to himself. He wished he could just stay in bed all day on Sundays or have to work, anything to avoid his father's disapproving look and the inevitable questions.
"When are you going to stop playing these silly games and settle down, Draco?" Or "When will you choose a wife and get married, Draco? We've given you everything you've ever asked for. Why can't you give us grandchildren to carry on the Malfoy line?" were some of Lucius' favourites.
That was all Draco's life had become to him: a disappointment and a joke. It was the same every week. He often considered not bothering to show up, but he didn't have the heart to hurt his mother's feelings.
Draco dressed and went downstairs to the living room fireplace. His stomach gave an involuntary squirm when he glanced at the coffee table where the firewhisky glasses still sat. He'd been so frustrated that he hadn't bothered to clear up. He sighed once again and picked up a handful of Floo powder from the fancy urn on the mantelpiece. He threw the shiny powder into the fireplace and watched as it burst into emerald flames. Just like Harry's eyes… he thought miserably.
"Villa Malfoy!" he shouted, as he stepped forward and allowed the warm flames to consume him.
On Wednesday morning, Harry sat at his desk in the office, a blank memo sitting in front of him. He bit his lip and began to write.
Draco,
I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to go so badly at your house on Saturday night. It wasn't your fault. I'm afraid I've got some underlying issues I need to work out which I didn't realise I had until that night. If you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I'd really appreciate your help to work said issues out.
Contritely Yours,
Harry
He breathed out and folded up the purple parchment into an aeroplane and let it go, watching as it flew to the lifts at the end of the room. The lift doors opened a few moments later, and a few wizards stepped out, followed by a small flock of parchment aeroplanes. Harry hoped Draco would get his note; he didn't know if he could stand to speak to him face-to-face after what had happened. He was so ashamed of himself for being such a stupid drama queen.
Suddenly, Ron's face appeared in front of him.
"Guess who's having broccoli tonight with dinner?" he said dryly, sitting on the edge of Harry's desk.
"Oh, crap, do we have to?"
Broccoli meant that Hermione would be coming round for dinner and making something very healthy and/or green for them to eat. To his surprise, Ron smiled sheepishly.
"Well, actually, I've got something to tell you. It's not going to save us from the broccoli, but I suppose it'll make us, or me at least, appreciate the broccoli a bit more."
Harry was thoroughly confused. "What are you on… holy shit!"
Ron had pulled from the pocket of his robes, a small blue velvet box, which he opened to reveal a diamond engagement ring: cut marquise style with two pear shaped diamonds on the side, giving the illusion of a crown.
Harry stared at Ron, a mixture of complete shock and joy flowing through him, and he jumped up and punched Ron in the arm before hugging him.
"Why didn't you tell me anything?" Harry demanded, frowning. It was not like Ron to keep things from him, especially not something like asking Hermione to marry him.
Ron blushed. "Well, I just kind of wanted to do this by myself. You know, pick out the ring and all that." Harry nodded. "So, I braved the Muggle jewellery stores; it took me three long weeks, but I finally decided on this one. I even went to Gringotts by myself to exchange the Galleons. I've been carrying it around with me for the last week, but I've been too nervous to ask her; what if she said no? I'd have died. But then, I watched her brushing her hair this morning before she left, and something just clicked in me. I realised that I want to be able to watch her brush her hair every morning for the rest of my life," Ron finished, a blush tinting his cheeks.
Harry stared.
"Ron, that's the most homosexual thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth," he said blankly.
"Oh, fuck off, Harry," Ron said angrily, while Harry snorted with laughter, dodging a smack on the back of the head. "I'll remember this when you and Ferret Boy kiss and make up."
"Oooh! Low blow, Ron," Harry sat back down at his desk.
Ron shot him a very dirty look and flipped him off.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
Harry mulled over Ron's last comment and wondered if it were still possible for him and Draco to make up, when something hovering above his desk caught his eye; looking up, he saw a purple parchment aeroplane addressed to him in fancy handwriting. He opened it and read:
Harry,
Please excuse the impersonal form this preliminary note of apology takes, but I wanted to be sure that you'd get it in the least conspicuous way. Also, I wasn't sure you'd listen to me if I tried to talk to you otherwise.
I'm sorry for the way I acted this weekend, but I can explain everything. This note isn't exactly the best place for me to do so, but I promise, as soon as we get together, I'm more than willing to work it out with you.
You know where to find me.
Draco
Harry's heart was beating out of his chest. Draco didn't think him a complete idiot! A broad grin appeared on Harry's face when he thought of Draco's reaction to his own little note. His head full of tentative words of apology, Harry began to get up.
"Okay, Potter, I need you to get started on this research immediately if not sooner, I want the report on my desk before tomorrow." Aidan Mayhew, a senior Auror, plonked a large stack of files and paper on his desk.
Harry quickly crumpled the memo in his hand before looking up at Aidan in dismay. So much for meeting Draco after work… Harry thought miserably.
Aidan smiled at him and walked away.
Harry ripped out another piece of purple parchment and began to scribble a short note to Draco, telling him that he'd be working late. He scowled when he heard Ron laughing from the cubicle behind him.
"Serves you right, arsehole," Ron said.
"Oh, bugger off!"
Draco reduced the fire on his cauldron of Veritaserum and left it to simmer. He replaced all of his ingredients and went to wash his hands. He stretched, his muscles aching from stirring and adding ingredients. He pulled on his robes and pushed his tie into the pocket, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt collar.
He locked the door behind him and walked slowly toward the lifts, dragging his feet. He was so tired. He said goodnight to his co-workers, Tracey and Eddie, who'd also been at the office far longer than they'd expected. He cursed the Healers at St Mungo's for sending them their order for thirty gallons of Blood-Replenishing Potion, A.S.A.P, at the end of their regular workday. They'd had to make ten gallons each. Draco's boss had arrived at three thirty that afternoon and dropped the heavy pile of papers on his desk. He hadn't heard Mr Fernley enter his room, and he'd been so startled by the thud on his desk, he had nearly endangered his Veritaserum. In addition to the Mungo's order, he had his own set of potions to make, the third part of the Veritaserum included. It had taken him four hours to make and send off the potion to St Mungo's. What right did their regular potion maker have going off sick, just like that?
Draco was so fatigued by the end of the day that he hadn't even noticed the feebly fluttering purple memos lying near the stack of forms.
Draco pushed the button to call the lift, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The lift clattered up from the floor below and he got in, nodding to the people inside. He propped himself up at the back as it ascended to the floor above.
The doors rattled open and in stepped a lone figure: Harry. Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched the other man shuffle to the back of the lift. Harry hadn't even the balls to come down to his lab to talk.
"Potter," he said, nodding to Harry, who propped himself up just as Draco had, on the other end of the lift.
"Malfoy," Harry said, imitating Draco's nonchalant nod. What is that prick still doing here when he hasn't had the common decency to reply to either of my notes?
Harry felt dreadful; he'd spent the last four hours combing through the ancient, dust-covered archives to find the root of a Dark spell he'd encountered in his research. He thought he'd never breathe anything but ancient Ministry dust again. Plus, he was starving to the point of a major headache, so much so that even Hermione's broccoli sounded fantastic. The last person he felt like seeing was Malfoy. Harry had foolishly assumed that if Draco hadn't seen him before he left, he'd come looking, after having received the notes and all – apparently not. They ascended in a very uneasy silence until the lift stopped at the top floor and the passengers began to vacate. Harry had every intention to follow them out and go home immediately.
Draco had other ideas.
He noticed Harry's rapid movement towards the door and threw out an arm to push him back into the corner of the lift. He flung the golden grilles closed and pushed the number '7' on the panel of buttons.
Harry banged his head on the back of the lift. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Why can I just GET OUT of here! The lift began to ascend. Harry seethed in his corner of the lift, his eyes tightly shut, trying to control his breathing. Malfoy could check himself into the nearest mental institution, for all Harry cared, if he thought this was just a ploy to get Harry alone, especially after his amazingly prudish behaviour at the weekend. He opened his eyes and turned to face the blond man before him.
"Alright, Malfoy, what the fuck is the matter with you? You send me a scribbled note of reconciliation, and then you totally ignore my own attempt, and now you're flinging me around in lifts and I just want to leave! So please, enlighten me, what the fuck is wrong?" Harry shouted.
"What's wrong with me?" Draco said indignantly. "What the hell is wrong with you? I send you a very pleasant note of apology, which you chose to ignore, and what do you mean your attempt? Judging by the lack of conversation we've had all day, I haven't seen any bloody attempt from you. So don't go dishing out blame like that to me, Potter!"
"Oh, so this is now totally my fault? I can't belie--"
"No, this is not all your fault, I told you I would explain everything if you'd just give me the chance. But you didn't, so what am I to do, Harry?"
Harry paused in delivering the stream of expletives that was ready to burst forth from his mouth. He was slightly mollified by what he saw in Draco's eyes: hurt. But he couldn't forgive him for rejecting him three times and then blaming him for not giving a stuff. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
"Look, I sent you two memos today; the first one bore my apology for leaving the way I did on Saturday, the second was to tell you I'd be working late tonight," Harry said.
Draco frowned.
"I didn't get any memos from you, and, as you can see, you weren't the only one that had to work late. I just thought that since you didn't come, you didn't want to bother anymore."
The grilles opened loudly, startling both Harry and Draco. Three wizards got in and nodded to them. They got to the first floor, once more, in silence. The wizards left and Harry and Draco followed. Harry caught Draco's eye as the three loud cracks resounded in the Atrium.
"I sent you the first one just before I got my assignment, around half past three; I thought you'd be in your office. I sent the second one about five minutes after the first."
Draco sighed. "I was in a meeting that started at two, and then I got my own assignment, I haven't actually paid much attention to the office since."
"Well, don't you think you ought to check?" Harry said scathingly.
"Harry, it's late, I just--"
"Fine." Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated.
Draco groaned loudly. A throbbing pain was making itself plain above his left eye.
"Damnit," he muttered. It was a wonder he and Harry ever bothered to start talking again. Draco turned in the same spot as Harry had and Disapparated to the Manor in search of a hot bath and a headache cure.
Harry arrived with a loud pop in the fire exit stairwell of his apartment building and started up the stairs to his apartment. He couldn't face taking another ride in a lift. He laboriously pulled out his keys when he reached the door and got into the apartment. Hearing voices coming from the kitchen, he avoided the area; he didn't feel like being around people.
Once in his room, he pulled off his shoes and glasses and threw himself on his bed. He closed his eyes and within seconds, was fast asleep.
Despite having gone to bed early and falling asleep instantly, Harry was exhausted when he woke up the next morning. Between waking up because he was hungry, but far too lazy to get up and eat, and having dreams about Draco, he hadn't slept well. He rolled out of bed, grumbling about his bad luck, and got into the shower.
Miles away in the Wiltshire Manor, Draco was getting dressed and in a similar condition. He had hardly slept a wink, far too upset by his encounter with Harry the evening before. He was bloody well going to get to the office early and find those notes. He went downstairs to the kitchen and had a bowl of cereal before Apparating to the Ministry.
Once in his office, he groaned when he saw the two purple memos barely twitching on the floor near his desk. Poor little buggers, Draco thought as he bent to retrieve them. He opened the first and began to read.
Draco,
I just got your letter. I feel a little bit better now, but I agree that we should talk about it. But I can't today; I've just been presented with a huge pile of documents, and I've got to go and dig in the dust to research some of them. I'll contact you when I get home so we can sort this out.
Harry
Draco mentally kicked himself. Poor Harry, no wonder he was so upset. He opened the other memo, and he was further softened by Harry's apology. Perhaps he should try to rectify the situation again, immediately. He checked his watch and went uptairs to the small Ministry cafeteria. Harry was due into the office fifteen minutes ago, and hopefully he was on time. Draco purchased two cups of coffee and made his way up to the second floor, choosing to take the stairs, as he was totally fed up by the lifts. He entered the Auror office and went in search of Harry's untidy black hair and brilliant green eyes. In spite of himself, seeing Harry eyes blaze in his fit of anger had been quite alluring.
Harry had his head on his arms with his eyes closed to shut out the light. He hoped he wouldn't be called out to some kind of mission during which he'd actually have to be awake. In his sleepy haze, he felt rather than heard, someone standing above him. Something was placed on his desk next to him, and he looked up to see Draco standing before him, a cup of coffee in his hand, a similar one on his desk. Harry sat up and regarded Draco carefully before taking the cup.
"Thanks," Harry said, taking a sip.
"Enjoy your day, Harry, we'll talk later okay?" Draco said. He smiled at Harry and left the cubicle.
Harry took another sip of his coffee. Well, okay then.
Draco corked the last vial of Sleeping Potion and placed it in the case with the others. The Auror Headquarters required several vials of this potion a month. The Aurors were often exposed to so much death and destruction in their line of work, and were often extraordinarily highly strung, that Calming Draughts and Sleeping Potions were given to them so they could relax and not have nightmares, or at least, not go totally insane.
Draco picked up the case and went to the lift to bring it up to the Aurors. He was glad that he had an excuse to go back to the second floor so he could see Harry. He was going to ask him out for lunch so they could at least begin to mend their relationship.
As he passed Harry's cubicle, he noticed with a flicker of sympathy, that Harry way lying on his desk with his head on his arm, the cup of coffee still in his hand. Draco thought of the Invigoration Draught down in his office that he'd been forced to take that morning, for fear of falling asleep and into his cauldron of Veritaserum.
After dropping off the case of vials and bidding the Aurors a good morning, Draco went back down to the third level, pausing just for a moment to look in on Harry. Smiling, he went back into his lab and refilled his vial of the Invigoration Draught.
"Potter!..."
"What?!" Harry jerked awake and sat up straight in his chair, spilling the coffee in his hand onto his desk.
"…Weasley! I want that report on Fenrir Greyback on my desk by four!" Their Head of Department, Gawain Robards, swished past their cubicles on his way to his office, shouting orders to his staff.
Bugger! Harry couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep again.
"Hey, Harry, had a late night?" Ron was leaning over the top of the divider between their cubicles, an evil grin on his face.
"Shut up. I couldn't get to sleep last night," Harry said, reheating his now cold coffee with his wand.
"Well, do something about it, okay? You know I'll always have your back, Harry, but I'm beginning to feel a bit like Hermione did when we were in school; you know, when she did almost all of our schoolwork for us," Ron said.
"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. He sipped his coffee and hoped it would be enough to help him through the rest of the morning. Ron disappeared behind the divider, and Harry riffled through the papers on his desk, cleaning the ones that had been splattered with coffee. Shaking his head vigorously, he got back to work.
Draco climbed up the stairs to the second floor once again, fingering the vial of potion in his pocket. His heart was beating with nervous haste and he hoped Harry wouldn't say no or have left for lunch already. Luckily, Harry was right where he'd left him, only he was awake this time. Grinning, Draco bounced into the cubicle and sat in front of Harry's desk.
"Hey, you," he said.
Harry slowly looked up from what he was writing, one eyebrow cocked in confusion. "Hi," he said. "What's up?"
"Wow, Harry, you look like I felt earlier today," Draco said in surprise. He rummaged around in his robe pocket and pulled out a small vial of orange potion and handed it to Harry. "That'll wake you up. It's an Invigoration Draught. I took some this morning."
Harry took a few sips and immediately began to feel like he'd just woken up from nine hours sleep. His nerves didn't feel like they were jangling, or he was about to bounce off walls, as he would if he'd drunk a double shot of espresso, he just didn't feel tired anymore. He rather enjoyed the effects of this particular potion, having taken it one or five times during school when he was studying all night. Muggles could keep their cocaine and speed; potions were far better. He'd considered making some himself, but he'd been far too tired to bother with the effort, choosing instead to wallow in self-pity for a while. At times such as these, he was a bit of an idiot.
"Thanks a lot," Harry said with a small smile. Now he felt a little bit worse, since Draco had taken the time and effort to help him, while he sat around looking and feeling wretched.
"You're welcome," said Draco. "As payment for my very kind gesture, you're going to let me take you out for lunch."
"I am?"
"Yes, you are. Let's go."
"Thanks again for the potion, Draco. I feel loads better. Though I'm not entirely certain how it's going to mix with the beer I'm about to drink," Harry said.
He and Draco were seated in the corner of Angel and Crown, plates of shepherd's pie and tankards of beer in front of them.
"You'll be fine," Draco said, taking a gulp from his own glass. They began to eat.
"Listen, Harry, I feel I should explain to you what went on in my head when I pulled away from you at such inopportune moments."
"Draco, you don't--"
"No, let me finish, please." Draco took a deep breath and continued. "A couple of years ago, when I lived in France, I was in a relationship with a man called Sebastien. Things went well for a while, but the thing was, as cliché as it sounds, it was all about the sex." Draco had a sudden image of hot skin on skin and Sebastien's face flashed into his mind. "The very hot sex…" The words tumbled out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them.
Harry choked on his shepherd's pie. "I beg you pardon?" he spluttered, taking a great gulp of beer
Shit!
"Not that I'm implying that what we've got isn't hot, because it is," Draco said, trying to reassure Harry that he was what he wanted; that he was worth the wait.
Draco's voice had turned as soft and smooth as caramel.
Harry's mouth had gone dry. He took another gulp of beer.
"So then, why'd you pull away from me after our first date if we're so hot and all?"
"Harry, we've got a history; bad history, yes, but it's still there. I want to treat whatever this is that we have together now with more respect than just to throw it out on a quick shag."
Harry was speechless.
"What's more is that, even after two dates, I feel more for you than I've ever felt for anyone before."
Draco could see that Harry was mulling over his words carefully. He gently covered Harry's hand with his own. Their eyes met and Draco felt a very pleasant stirring of something in his stomach. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, the grandfather clock struck two and broke the moment.
"We've got to get back," Harry said in a low voice removing his hand from beneath Draco's.
"Yeah." Draco was disappointed, but the pleasant feeling hadn't dissipated.
They walked back down the street to the Ministry. They got into the deserted phone booth and Draco dialled 'magic' on the phone.
Harry turned to Draco when they got into the Atrium and placed a hand on Draco's upper arm.
"Meet me back here after work, and we'll go back to my flat and finish this, okay?"
"Okay, I'll see you later."
They shared a quick smile and separated.
Draco could still feel the skin of his arm tingling under his robes.