"Incoming message from the kitchen for—"
"Draco, put on a uniform and get down here."
Draco cursed his business partner under his breath and rocked to his feet. He changed out of his suit and into the breezy white linen trouser and tunic specified for the regular staff and flipped a vee-sign at the lotus flower by the penthouse door. He Apparated in the kitchen, startling the chef with a noisy pop. Blaise was nowhere to be seen.
"He's in the dining room checking the place settings, Master Malfoy."
Draco stormed into the long dining hall that lay directly beneath his own penthouse suite. Blaise was still in his suit, and was waving his wand at the table to rearrange the china and cutlery. An elaborate centerpiece was forming out of dried flowers and decorative finials.
"So I'm the only one dressing for it today?" Draco demanded.
"I haven't had time to change," Blaise glanced up. "You need to take drink service out to the pool."
"That's chef's—"
"Chef is busy preparing lunch."
"Admit it, you just want me to look like your employee," Draco sneered.
"Don't act like one and no one will think that." Blaise didn't deny it, Draco noticed.
He turned on his heel and resentfully yanked the drink service cart from its storage closet, then wheeled it out to the tiled deck. Several guests were lying around on chaise lounges or splashing in the pool. Draco found their raucous revelry significantly less tranquil than he liked.
"Drinks, gentlemen?" he called. Ron Weasley popped off of his chair and scuttled over with an eager grin. Two other Aurors joined him with equal interest. Neville Longbottom swam to the shallow end of the pool and hauled himself up the ladder, water pouring off of him like a deluge.
"Do you have Butterbeer?" Ron asked.
It's not even noon, you ginger bollocks-for-brains, Draco thought. Out loud he said, "We have morning cocktails. Buck's fizz, Bloody Mary, Bellini, Lillet Rose Spring Cocktail—"
"Those sound rubbish," Ron wrinkled his nose, smushing his freckles together into a mottled blob.
"You can't have a beer before noon, Ron," one of the other Aurors chided. "I'll take a Bloody Mary, thanks," the man smiled smugly at Ron and went back to his lounge to resume his sunbathing, an activity which made Draco seethe with envy.
He wandlessly lofted several Bloody Marys around as word spread. He wasn't surprised that word was spreading. He made a bloody good Bloody Mary. Behind him the glass doors slid open and another Auror joined the group. Draco glanced back and did a massive double-take as the other guests cheered his arrival.
"Harry!" they shouted in unison.
Harry Potter stood bashfully in the doorway, feet bare and body clad only in snug swim shorts. His broad shoulders narrowed down to a trim waist, lined with defined muscles and not an ounce of spare flesh. His arms were sculpted in graceful curves from his deltoids to his biceps to his forearms, where a tattoo of a griffin stood out in bold red and black against his skin. His legs were powerfully built and between them the fabric of his swim shorts strained across the bulge of an impressive—
"—Cocktail, Malfoy," Ron was standing at the cart and trying to place an order.
Draco's attention snapped round and he quickly mixed a Bellini for the ginger twat. Behind him Harry walked to the edge of the pool, raised his arms, and dove into the water. He kicked hard and resurfaced down at the shallow end, and when he crested the surface and pushed his dripping hair back from his face, droplets flowed in winding rivulets down the hills and valleys of his body.
Draco knocked back a glass of champagne.
"This isn't half bad, Malfoy," Ron held his glass aloft appreciatively.
"What?" Draco squinted at Ron, totally lost.
"This drink. It's not half bad," Ron waggled the glass. "Hey Harry! Come get a drink!"
Harry pulled himself up the ladder to the deck, water sheeting off of him and tugging just the tiniest sag in his swim shorts, which exposed just a teeny bit of a tan line around his hips.
Draco knocked back another champagne.
"What are we having?" Harry's feet slapped across the deck as he rubbed droplets out of his eyes. "That looks good, Ron. What is it?"
"What is it?" Ron asked Draco.
"Bell—" Draco suppressed a hiccup, "Bellini."
"I'll take one," Harry smiled and leaned on the cart with one hand as Draco retrieved a glass. Ron wandered away and sat next to Head Auror Chelsea. Suck up.
"So how did you end up here, mixing drinks for Ministry men?" Harry asked.
"It's my business," Draco handed the glass over. "Felt like doing something reputable for once."
"So you don't work for Blaise?" Harry took a sip and made a small yummy noise.
"Of course not," Draco turned his attention to recorking the bottles. "I could buy and sell Blaise twenty times over."
"Hi Blaise," Harry grinned over his shoulder.
Draco whirled around but no one was there. He turned back to Harry in confusion.
"Gotcha," Harry said softly. Then he winked and joined his coworkers poolside.
Draco uncorked the champagne and swigged directly from the bottle.
0oOo0
Lunch provided a reprieve from the discomfort of the morning's events. It wasn't going too badly, Draco thought. The Aurors were enjoying themselves and he was certain the awkwardness had all been in his head. It was the short staff situation that was throwing him off. If Melody and Harmony were here it wouldn't be so weird. Right. Okay.
"I'll take my lunch upstairs," Draco said to the chef as he passed through. He did one round through the dining room, pausing here and there to ensure service was perfect, then u-turned back to the door.
"You're not joining us?" Ron called. Beside him Harry looked up with interest.
"It's not a school reunion, Weasley," Draco said. "Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen."
The room hummed with murmurs but nothing would stop his escape now. He ducked into the kitchen, seized a plate from chef's hands, and Disapparated for his room. After eating he decided to lie down for a nap. He'd already done a lot of work and he was exhausted by the prospect of more. But when the lotus flower by the door blossomed he knew he was a long way from rest.
"Incoming message from the atrium for—"
"Malfoy, I guess."
Bollocks.
Draco checked his clothing and hair in the mirror and popped directly down to the lobby, even though technically it wasn't polite. Harry was poking through a decorative bookcase on the far wall, checking out titles by tipping his head sideways. He jumped at the sound of Draco's arrival and jammed his hand up his sleeve to conceal his impulsive grab for his wand.
"How can I help you," Draco shot a quick glance around but none of his coworkers were with him. A distant hoot and splash told him they'd gone back out to the pool.
"I'd like to see the spa. Is it open?"
"Well," Draco had to think fast. Yes, it was open, but he wasn't about to perform every task on the menu, not without help, and certainly not for Harry Potter. "I suppose. This way."
Harry followed him to the south end of the main building and hung a left to the breezeway. They stepped down two stairs into the spa and Draco held his arms out in presentation.
"Welcome to Jumeaux Spa," he said. "Full service relaxation techniques and beautification procedures. We usually have a lovely set of twins in here, Melody and Harmony, but they called in sick. And they might not be coming back," he added.
"What did you do?" Harry shot him a sly smile as he walked the perimeter of the room looking at the equipment and decor.
"Not me, I wouldn't touch them with a barge pole," Draco snorted. "Blaise shagged one of them."
"Which one?"
"Who knows?"
"That didn't go well, I take it?"
"They're a bit angry," Draco chuckled. Then he caught himself. This was not bonding time.
"What's this for?" Harry stopped at one of the deep rectangular tubs.
"Volcanic ash mud baths," Draco said. "We import our ash from Iceland. Excellent for drawing out impurities, clearing magical blockages, and improving energy flow."
"Can I try it?"
"Now?"
"Why not?"
"Don't you have an Auror meeting starting at three?"
"That's more than an hour from now."
"Well," Draco chewed his lip. "I suppose you're free to try it." He flicked his wrist and summoned a robe from across the room. "Go in the private stall back there and get fully undressed." He handed over the robe.
Harry went to the small cubicle in the corner and changed while Draco summoned a hot, slippery bath full of volcanic ash mud. It started with a speck of dirt and expanded to fill the tub nearly to the top. Tiny wisps of steam rose from the mottled gray and brown pool and the surface jiggled like pudding.
"So do I get in?"
Draco's jaw dropped.
Harry smiled innocently as he padded across the room, naked with the wadded up robe held in front of his knob to conceal it from view. He stepped up to the edge of the tub and furrowed his brow at the high stone walls.
"How do I get in?"
"You were meant to put the robe on your body, Potter," Draco choked out.
"Was I?" Harry looked down. "But I'm getting in naked anyway, right?"
"Yes but—"
"Here," Harry whipped off his glasses and shoved them at Draco. "Help me up."
Draco fumbled and deposited the tortoiseshell spectacles on a table and then grasped Harry's proffered elbow. As the other man lifted his leg over the side of the tub he let the robe fall away, revealing his knob for just a brief fleeting second before it was submerged in the mud.
"It's warm," Harry said as he drew his other leg in.
"Well we wouldn't have you sit in cold mud." Draco was pretty pleased with himself for forming actual words, given the circumstances.
"Do I get all the way down in it?" Harry raised his eyebrows and lowered himself further. His irises gleamed emerald in the soft lighting, standing out in contrast beneath his black hair and above the earthy bath.
"All the way down," Draco nodded with a hard swallow. "If you let it get all the way up to your chin you can get a pretty good chakra cleansing."
Harry slid in deeper and deeper until just his head stuck up from the surface of the mud. His eyelids fluttered and a guttural groan rippled from his throat, and seemingly through every nerve ending of Draco's body.
"Well then." He cleared a raspy burr from his throat and turned to leave. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes to help you get out."
"You're leaving?" Harry sat up, sloshing the mud with a slurpy sound.
"Yes?" Draco said hopefully. His room was calling him.
"Stay and talk," Harry said. "I'll get bored if there's no one to talk to."
Draco frowned and told himself to go. Saint Potter was used to people fawning over him. He probably didn't go anywhere without an entourage. Attractive or not, Draco didn't want to be one of those hangers on.
"Please," Harry said softly.
Draco felt his shoulders slump before he realized he was giving in. "Have it your way," he sighed.
He dragged a chair up to the side of the bath and sat, his legs extended out before him and his gaze fixed on his toes. He would not be caught gawking.
"This is brilliant," Harry said. He raised and lowered his arms, toying with the gloopiness of the viscous mud. "Where did you come up with this idea?"
"It's not my idea," Draco said. "Mud baths have been around for a millennia."
"Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" Harry cocked his head and squinted suspiciously at him.
"What do you mean? I'm Draco Malfoy." An icy fear shot through his stomach. Was the Auror retreat a ruse? Was he being investigated? Should he warn Blaise? It wasn't fair! He was innocent! Why would they pick on him?
"No, I mean the Malfoy I know from Hogwarts would have jumped at the chance to claim an idea like this as his own," Harry said.
"What?"
"I mean," Harry sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. I was just trying to be friendly."
"Well why would you go and do a thing like that?" Draco asked. Harry said nothing.
They sat in silence for a while, Harry luxuriating in a moist volcanic ash suspension and Draco staring at his feet and thinking very few thoughts. Then movement from the tub brought Draco back to the present. Harry was rubbing gray mud in between his eyes, leaving a gritty smear on his skin.
"What in blazes are you doing, Potter?"
"You said it clears chakras," Harry paused. "But it's missing my third eye and crown."
"I... Well yes," Draco stammered. "But you're getting mud all over you."
"Malfoy," Harry laughed with a broad grin. "Ninety percent of my body is covered in mud."
"I suppose."
"So why not finish the job?" Harry scooped a handful of ash onto the top of his head. "There, that's all of them."
A thin rivulet of muddy water rolled down from his scalp and headed straight for his eye. Draco's hand moved automatically to wipe it away, then caught a second one that rolled down the other side. Harry said nothing, he simply laid still and let Malfoy touch his skin.
"This may not have been a good idea," Draco said dryly. "Let me fix it."
He scooped half of the pile off of Harry's head and deposited it back into the bath. Then he smeared what was left around to spread it out, catching more drops of muddy water with his other hand. Now Harry had gray streaks across his forehead and temples and both of Draco's hands were dirty.
"Do I look like a giant mud man?" Harry asked.
"Here, let me..." Draco's voice trailed off as he scooped a bit of mud onto his fingers and spread it across Harry's face. He tried to ignore the green eyes that followed him at such a close distance, and painted down his face to his cheekbones, up and over his nose, across his chin, and lastly, well...
Harry smiled, his lips stretching and making visible the area he had missed. Draco suppressed a shudder and gently swiped mud around the perimeter of his mouth. He cursed himself for hesitating in the first place. Ridiculous.
"How do I look?"
"Like a mess," Draco sat back and withdrew a hand mirror from a nearby aesthetician station. Harry took one look at himself and laughed in delight, a sound that Draco could have done without, thank you very much. Harry grasped the mirror's handle to steady it, his fingers overlapping Draco's without a care. But in doing so he flung a bit of mud onto Draco's white sleeve.
"Whoops, sorry," he reached out to swipe it away and smeared more mud on his sleeve. "Bollocks," he winced sheepishly.
"You thought you'd wipe away dirt with more dirt?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "No worries," he held out his sleeve and smirked as the soil evaporated away. "Wouldn't make sense to wear white around volcanic ash if we didn't plan for it."
"Brilliant," Harry grinned again. He raised a finger and swiped a stripe of mud down Draco's nose. Draco froze, stunned at the gesture. Harry took the opportunity to dab another dot on his chin. His grin widened, cracking the drying mud on his cheeks into a thousand little fissures.
"My face isn't charmed, Potter," Draco said with as much dignity as he could muster.
"I wouldn't say that," Harry laughed. "I think it's quite charming."
Draco goggled at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. "Are you mad?" he finally managed.
"Don't be cross," Harry sat up, volcanic ash sheeting off of his shoulders. "I'm just messing about."
"That's what's mad," Draco crossed to the sinks on the other wall and rinsed his face off. "When have we ever messed about? When have we ever been mates?"
"Never," Harry braced his hands on the sides of the tub and hauled himself out of the goop with a tremendous slurp. He staggered beneath the weight of the mud clinging to his body and his knees buckled.
Draco hurried to his side and braced him around the waist to help him step over the side of the tub. He focused on the floor to prevent himself from focusing on the fact that his arms were wrapped around his former school rival. Naked former school rival.
"I've gotten you all muddy," Harry said close to his ear as he regained his balance and let go.
"It will evaporate," Draco said. "Take your robe."
"Thanks," Harry swiped it across his face and hair like a towel, then held it in front of his knob again.
"Has the concept of the robe totally missed you?" Draco asked.
"Where's the shower?"
"Back by the changing room."
Harry slapped across the floor, leaving muddy footprints in his wake. As with Draco's uniform, the soil evaporated and disappeared without a scrub or a Scourgify. A moment later the taps in the curtained shower cubicle turned and the sounds of bathing filled the long space. Draco returned to the sink to rinse his hands again, check his face for any ash remnants, and then turned his attention to the tub. A swish and an incantation and the mud shrank into nothingness.
Harry emerged from the dressing room in his plain white button-down shirt and chestnut brown trousers. He bumped into a massage table and stumbled a bit. "Forgot my glasses," he muttered.
"Here," Draco guided them into Harry's hand. When they were on his face again, rendering his appearance so familiar that it was almost nostalgia-inducing, Draco's stomach did a strange little maneuver that he didn't approve of.
"That was brilliant. I'll have to do it again while I'm here," Harry pointed at the tub.
"Next time I'll be sure to wear a mask," Draco said. They looked at each other silently for a moment until Draco cleared his throat and indicated the large brass clock over the door. "Isn't it about time for your meeting?"
"I suppose so," Harry nodded. "Well, thanks for the relaxation. See you later."
"See you later," Draco murmured. He watched Harry leave with a twinge of disappointment.