April

Draco looked up at the clock with disdain, willing the minutes to go faster. It was Incompetent Interns at Work day, the one day a week when he looked forward to leaving his job, mostly because at home no one could set fire to the potions lab, or blow up a cauldron, or flood the room. It had been just over a year since that fateful day he had received the letter from Hermione, and a good five or so months since he had last seen Harry Potter. There had been no news of him in the papers – not that Draco had been looking – and no talk of him in the Ministry – not that Draco had been listening. He had seen none of the Weasleys, and none of them had been able to contact him. He had set up a repelling ward that turned away any owls with letters from them, and had snuck in and out of his office and potions lab with such stealth that more than once he had considered going back to his old job as an Auror. Potter himself had made no move to contact him, a fact which both relieved and angered Draco to no end.

Almost six months of peace, and Draco was sitting at his desk telling himself that he wasn't at all curious about what had happened to Potter. He buried his head in his hands, resisting the urge to bang it on his desk until he lay unconscious on the floor. It was a lie, and he knew it. He heard the door open, and he waved his hand impatiently, an effect that was ruined somewhat by the fact that his arm was still underneath his forehead.

"Go away, you incompetent idiots, and be thankful that you didn't blow something up this time. Get someone else to sign your paperwork, or better yet, leave forever and find a job that you are, in fact, suited for, something that doesn't involve you having to touch anything even remotely fragile or volatile."

The door closed without a sound, and his hand drooped where it was, his elbow on the desk, his forearm still in the air.

"That's not very supportive of you." Came a wry comment, and Draco froze. He knew that voice. He didn't move, although he cast an extremely subtle look towards his door. He cursed inwardly. He couldn't see who it was. He was hoping he was hallucinating and that he was just hearing things.

He smoothed his face into a mask of indifference as best as he could and then, without looking at the person in his doorway, sat up and reached out for a piece of paperwork. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that a rogue paperclip had stuck itself to his cheek during his face time with the desk. He brushed it away casually, burning with embarrassment on the inside. Only years of Malfoy training kept his voice steady and calm.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We need to talk." Came Potter's voice again, and Draco vehemently ignored it, mentally going through the list of spells he could competently cast and wondering if he could successfully put himself in a coma. He pretended to be absolutely fascinated with the paperwork on his desk. The words blurred into incomprehensible blather before his eyes. He registered the word 'resinous' before reading the word 'sap' three times over.

He heard the sound of someone moving closer and then he could resist the temptation no longer. He looked up and into the healthy, gorgeous face of Harry Potter, taking in the green eyes, and the glossy black hair, the slightly parted lips full of colour, and then, worst of all, the body attached to the head, which was dressed in Muggle jeans and a black shirt, and looked ridiculously fit for a body that, just months ago, had been starved by its insane owner. He fixated on the shirt, which had an X-Ray image of a dog printed on it, and then decided that was a bad idea when Potter moved and various muscles flexed.

"I wanted to thank you."

"Don't mention it. Really." Draco said, with a little difficulty because suddenly his mouth was dry.

Potter pressed on stubbornly. "I really needed the help of good friends, so I'm very grateful to you and everyone else."

"I'm not your friend, Potter." Draco said impatiently.

Potter chuckled, and something in Draco's brain twitched at the sound, hoping to hear more of it.

"You helped take care of me for seven months. I think you count as a friend now."

Draco stared at him. "I only did it because I wanted this job. I certainly don't appreciate all the effort I had to put into this." Lies! Lies and slander!

Potter smirked at him. "You do realise that Hermione never actually said you had to keep doing it in order to keep the job, right?" He'd moved closer to the desk now, and Draco was telling his brain to shut up, because he knew very well that Hermione would have let him keep the job if he had given up a month into it.

"If you come any closer to my person, Potter, I'll hex you so badly you'll wish you were a bloody zombie again."

"Just hear me out. I wanted to make it up to you for making you go out of your way. And I spent quite a while trying to think of how to do it, and then something you said while I was, as you said, a zombie, came back to me."

"Potter, what are you getting at?" Draco praised his upbringing for the fact he did not stammer.

Potter shrugged a little awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Still up for dinner?"

Draco cast his mind back to the first day of Pottersitting, and shook his head slightly. He stood, avoiding eye contact, and held the door open. "No, thank you. Now, if you please, I have quite a lot of work to do still." He looked up, prepared to tell Potter goodbye and good riddance, and found said boy right in front of him, much closer than he'd been before.

Draco glared, pushing him away slightly, ignoring the warmth of Potter beneath the shirt. But isn't this what you wanted? Potter as your boyfriend? Haven't you wanted this for years? He told his brain to shut up. Dinner was not a date, and there was no proof that Potter wasn't as straight as a metal ruler.

Potter didn't move, and Draco felt his agitation rise. "It's lovely that you're back in good health, I appreciate you coming here to thank me in person, but you don't need to take me out to dinner as some kind of reward for bullying you back into the world of the living."

"There must be some way I can, though." Potter insisted, and Draco felt his resistance wavering. This close, he could smell Potter's cologne, shampoo, and unique scent. He would have been lying if he'd said he didn't like it. His control snapped, and without thinking he leaned forward and traced the contours of Potter's neck with his nose very lightly.

Potter stopped talking, and Draco murmured against his throat, "I could forgive the inconvenience for a kiss, perhaps." He felt Potter swallow, his Adam's apple moving against Draco's lips. He nuzzled Potter's neck for a moment, feeling the rough hint of a beard. Dimly he wondered why Potter hadn't grown a crazy beard during his months of insanity and chalked it down to Hermione. She'd probably found a spell, of all things, in the midst of the chaos. He turned his attention back to the other man's neck, and he gave an experimental lick. Potter whined, then, and Draco pulled away, victorious.

"That wasn't a kiss, Draco." Potter said defiantly. Draco's breath hitched at the use of his first name.

"Very true." He agreed, nodding. "But this is."

He swooped in without any further warning and captured Potter's lips in a kiss. It was chaste, to begin with, a simple closed-mouth kiss with light pressure, but when Potter started kissing back, instead of jumping back and yelling bloody murder, Draco lost all innocence. Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue over Potter's bottom lip, nibbling on it slightly. Potter's mouth opened voluntarily, and Draco swept his tongue across Potter's teeth, over his lips, and drank in the taste and smell that was Harry Potter.

They pulled apart, breathless, and then Draco chuckled at Potter's amazed look. Part of him died a happy death when Potter did not change his mind about the kiss and start hexing Draco into oblivion. His breath caught, however, when the amazement turned into a surprisingly seductive gaze, and he felt a smirk rising to answer it.

"Just a kiss, then?" Potter said, making to leave his office. Draco grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer.

"Well, maybe the dinner as well. But it had better be at a classy restaurant."

Author's Note:

I actually really was going to end it there (instead of the last chapter, ehehehe) but part of me knows you're expecting sexy Drarry times, so there's one more chapter in the making.

Reverie Wilde, chadders & DazzlexMe - I really couldn't resist, I'm sorry.

Super-Mogils - I know right. I was sorely tempted to leave it at that and then not say 'Just kidding!' afterwards but I think people would have yelled at me, and I don't really like that _

Heretogetthestory & TheCynic'sDream - Dammit why was I unable to find that out? It's been too long since I read the books, I think.