I never thought I would share this, but here is the very first piece of fanfiction that I have ever written. Let me know what you think!

To say that Draco was having a bad day would be the understatement to end all understatements. Even after ten years of working at the Ministry, he never did get used to the hushed whispers and the covert glances at his left forearm where the faded ink of the dark mark still resided. Plus his terrible boss had a penchant for yelling at him one second, spit flying out of his mouth, and the next second he'd pat Draco on the head like he was soothing some petulant crup.

Needless to say, a very haggard and very rumpled Draco Malfoy entered the lifts on Level 5 wanting nothing more than to reach his flat as soon as possible. There was a bottle of wine chilling under a stasis charm and a long soak in the bathtub calling his name.

Since most of the offices closed at five o'clock and it was well past that, he hadn't expected to share the lift with anyone. Especially a notably short, decidedly young someone. A really little someone who had messy black hair that stuck up in the back and a light covering of freckles on his chubby cheeks.

Glancing around the small space and seeing no adult accompanying the child, Draco knelt down and tried to look at the little boy's face. "Hello?"

"'M not supposed to talk to stwangews," the little one responded and hunched in on himself.

"Too right," Draco smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He didn't really have any experience with children. "My name is Draco. Do you know where your mommy or daddy are?"

The moment the blond said his name, the little boy gasped and jerked his head in Draco's direction.

Impossibly green eyes stared at Draco with a mixture of shock and something that could only be interpreted as glee.

"Dwaco?"

Potter? A little Potter was riding the lifts all alone?

After a few deep breaths, Draco's shock quickly turned to panic. What if they thought that Draco had taken the little Potter? What if Potter thought that Draco had taken his son?

And why did his son have to have those green eyes? The same eyes that Draco had spent the past five years avoiding in the Atrium and the corridors and anywhere else the former bane of his existence could be found. It was better that way.

If he didn't see Potter, the other man couldn't see the exact moment that Draco's heart would flip or the stain of red that would dot his cheeks and the tips of his ears whenever he caught sight of him.

Fighting the urge to pat Little Potter on his head, Draco nodded. "And who are you?"

It was obvious that the boy was stamping down his excitement when he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked onto his toes. "I'm Alby. My daddy is Hawwy Pottew," he proudly declared, his eyes searching the ceiling as if he was trying to remember the rest of the speech that he had been taught. "My mum's name is Ginny Longbottom." He scrunched up his decidedly adorable little face in concentration. "My daddy is a ponce."

Draco chuckled as Alby Potter's smile engulfed his entire face. "And who taught you to say that?"

"Uncle Geowge."

Stifling his laughter, Draco stood and looked down at mini-Potter. "Where's your daddy now, Alby?"

The little boy shrugged and smiled again, the same crooked smile that Draco had seen on another face numerous times.

Potter was probably going out of his mind with worry. He remembered the headlines when the Harry Potter fanatics had taken to stalking the entire Potter clan. He shivered as he recalled one article in particular regarding the little boy standing in front of him.

"Well, Alby, let's go find your daddy."

Mini-Potter clenched his jaw, replacing his smile with a determined look, and gave Draco a brief nod.

Just as the lift changed its direction to Level 2, Potter's son slipped his tiny, chubby hand into Draco's.

But Potter wasn't in his office or on any of the other floors. By the time they reached the Atrium, almost an hour had passed since Draco had spotted the child. Little Potter had decided he was too tired to stand on his own anymore and nuzzled Draco's shoulder as the blond held him tightly.

Draco wasn't prepared for the scene that awaited him when the doors opened.

"No one is to leave this building," a giant-like man yelled over the crowd that was gathered at the ministry floos, his voice bouncing off the walls so it sounded like a chorus of men repeating the same command.

In the center of the room, surrounded by his fellow Aurors clad in scarlet robes, stood Potter. His hair was even more unkempt and frazzled than usual. His robes had been discarded somewhere leaving him in a wrinkled, untucked button-down shirt and black trousers. He was gesturing wildly with his left hand while his right hand held onto the squirming boy at his side.

The other boy was slightly taller than the one nestled in Draco's arms. He had messy auburn hair and prominent freckles. The twinkle in his blue eyes was visible even from Draco's distance, and his smile was like a tractor beam as he stared at the blond.

"Dad," he said, tugging at Potter's arm.

"Hold on, Jamie," Potter responded, the bite in his voice was tinged with fear. How long had he been looking for his little carbon copy?

Like a typical Gryffindor, the little boy, Jamie, was unrelenting. "Dad," he shouted and pointed at Draco when he got his father's attention.

"Wha—" Potter stopped mid-word when he met Draco's gaze and then his eyes landed on his other son.

"Al," he breathed as he closed the distance between them, the relief on his face palpable. Loosening his grip on the mini-Potter, Draco let the dark haired man scoop up his son, holding him like a fragile doll. He kissed his son on the forehead and tightened his grip on Alby.

"Malfoy…how did you—"

"Draco Malfoy?" The louder of the two sons asked, as he joined his father at his side.

Shooting a quizzical look at the other man, Draco acknowledged the older of the sons. "Yes," he answered carefully, drawing out the word into two syllables.

"Oh man," he giggled. "My dad talks about you all the time. Don't you, Dad?" he directed at Potter who was currently doing his best impression of a fish out of water. To Draco, the little boy said, "Dad thinks you have dreamy eyes."

"Jamie!" Potter scolded and pressed his son closer to his side in an effort to muffle whatever he was going to say next.

Potter coughed and distracted himself by soothing an already calm Al. "How did you find him?" he whispered, sounding like he could break like glass.

"He was riding the lifts," Draco supplied.

"I don't know how to thank you," Potter gushed.

Draco could feel the flush crawling up his neck. His stomach did somersaults at the awe and gratitude in Potter's voice. It was the same feeling that Draco experienced every time he looked at the other man. "It wasn't a problem, Potter," Draco waved away the appreciation with his hand.

For the first time since they had emerged from the lifts, Potter fixed Draco with a stare that made him feel like he was the only one in the world. "Please, call me Harry."

"Alright, Harry."

"Daddy?" Mini-Potter asked in a barely audible voice that was more breath than sound. "Can Dwaco come home with us?"

Reviews are lovely and appreciated!