Benefits

Chapter Two

Draco slammed the door to his apartment behind him harshly. He felt like ripping out his hair at the moment. How could he have been so stupid?! Why would he take risks like that?!

He couldn't believe what he had done; he had been so stupid. There was no way out of this one; it was either go all the way with what he had said, or he was a liar getting shipped off to Australia on a permanent not so fantastic holiday. He couldn't help the audible groan that escaped his pale lips.

"Now I've got to come up with a billion excuses as to why I'm busy!" Draco exclaimed to himself. His voice echoed slightly in the apartment. He walked over to his room and threw himself on the bed and made a mental note to save the dead Grandmother excuse for sometime in the future.

He heard the flutter of wings and looked towards the opposite side of the room. There was an owl, sitting on his window sill, ruffling his feathers to get Draco's attention. The poor owl had probably been sitting there for the last five minutes. Draco got up and walked towards the owl hurriedly. The owl made a little sound that made it sound like a mother scorning his child for being late home, after dark.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, petting the owl on the back, happy that it didn't make an attempt to attack him, just to scowl a little more at him.

He untied the letter from the bird's leg and it instantly flew back off, hooting behind him at Draco. Draco would hate to know what the owl was saying right now. He looked down the envelope and sighed happily; it was Blaise. He'd been worried it was Barnabas, annoying him from his office after his not so convincing performance earlier.

He ripped open the envelope with the letter opener he kept stashed in the top drawer of his bedside table. He shook the slip of parchment out, and opened it hurriedly.

Remove wards at 3:30PM,

Coming over,

Blaise

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at the time; it was currently 3:25. He sighed; he hadn't really gotten that much of the day off after all.

(***)

By the time it was three thirty; Draco had brewed two cups of tea and was waiting patiently for the time to arrive. He looked at his watch and concentrated on closing down the wards to let Blaise past.

There was a pop and Blaise appeared in the middle of his lounge room. He was still wearing his work clothes. Blaise had gotten a job at the Daily Prophet with Draco when they had first left Hogwarts, only because Barnabas was keen on second chances, so the Daily Prophet was the only place that would take them. Blaise wrote a lot about sporting events happening, mainly, of course, Quidditch.

Blaise peered at the mugs of tea on the bench, "thanks," Blaise said, taking his and holding it in his hands, but not taking a sip.

"So what did Barnabas want?" he asked, "it looked like a pretty serious discussion."

"You were watching?"

Blaise smirked, "Disillusionment charm," he said, "but Barnabas obviously put a silencing spell on the room; I couldn't hear a thing you were shouting about."

Draco sighed, "They're sending me off to Australia," he paused, looking at Blaise; his reaction was one of shock so he continued on, "if I don't prove that I have a fiancé."

Blaise look confused, "you don't have a fiancé though."

"I know," Draco said, "that's the goddamn issue!"

Blaise sat down on his spot on Draco's couch, "you'll think of something," he said, finally take a small sip from his tea, "you always do."

Draco shook his head, "but everyone hates me," he murmured, "Everyone associates me with Death Eaters. No one is going to want to pretend to be the fiancé of a largely known former Death Eater, despite the fact that he barely did anything."

Blaise sighed, "Well, who's this imaginary fiancé? What's their gender?" he asked.

"Male," Draco said, pacing in the kitchen now, his hands behind his back like they had been earlier, looking a cross between nervous, and concentrating on something difficult.

"Alright," Blaise said nodding slowly, "what did you say his name was?"

Draco paused, turning to look at Blaise. He could feel his face slowly going red with slightly mortification.

"Draco...?" Blaise said slowly, "what did you say his name was...?"

Draco bit his lip. Should he-...?

Draco lifted his arms exasperatedly and sighed, "Look...I panicked!" he exclaimed.

"Panicked-," Blaise groaned, "Oh Merlin, you didn't-."

"I did," Draco said, looking more and more embarrassed by the minute. Blaise looked like he was tempted to roll his eyes, but was only just holding it together.

"Harry?" he asked.

Draco nodded, his face was hot and flustered; he hated how well Blaise knew him some days.

Blaise rolled his eyes, "if you used the last name Watson again-."

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, smacking his forehead. He felt stupid enough as it was, but Blaise wasn't helping. Friends were supposed to help you feel less stupid, not even more so.

"Ugh," he groaned, smacking his own forehead this time, "your stupidity and unoriginality astounds me Draco- and worries me; how did you even get into Slytherin?"

Draco threw a towel at him.

(***)

Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione later on that evening, deciding that he would walk home rather than apparate. He didn't live all that far from them, it was what; a twenty minute walk at most if you knew where you were going; if not, forty.

All he knew was that he needed a bit of fresh air. Hermione asking him constant questions about his life and then trying to make him have a love life was more suffocating than actually having someone's hands wrapped around your throat; which he'd dealt with plenty of times. He shuddered and continued walking.

The wind was blowing softly, just the right amount of wind to calm someone down; but to not make it too cold. However; Harry wrapped his coat around him tighter and walked faster. He didn't like the feeling of his hair standing on the back of his neck that he was getting right now.

"Harry!"

Harry cursed aloud under his breath, as he slowly turned around to look at the dark haired man who had run up behind him while he'd been walking.

"Harry," he said, panting slightly, the man was thin but he had never been fit. His lips were a dark red and his cheeks light pink, which made Harry glower. He turned to look behind the man and noticed that he'd walked past a bar, which is probably how Lucas had spotted him. He saw a woman with shiny blonde hair and big breasts wearing a pink tank top and tight jeans; she waved at him like they were old friends.

"Lucas," Harry murmured, looking at his feet. He'd never liked looking at Lucas for too long, even when they had been dating. It felt wrong; especially after everything...Harry shook his head and ignored the hateful feeling that swept over him like a wave; a wave of self-disgust.

"How have you been?" he asked, as if he hadn't just been making out with a girl that could easily be a supermodel. Harry shrugged, hoping that Lucas would get the hint that Harry didn't want to talk, especially not to him, of all the people in the world. He would prefer Voldemort come back to life and talked to him face to face about how much he wanted to kill Harry- which really said a lot about how much he despised Lucas.

Harry refused to look up as he muttered a tiny little, "fine," and waited for Lucas to make the next move. Either another attempt at conversation, or he would just walk off.

"Alright," Lucas said, sounding awkward. He hoped that was a sign that Lucas had finally gotten the hint, "well...I'll see you around," he said. He had taken the point and he walked off. Harry whispered a tiny, "I hope not," though he knew Lucas wouldn't hear it. He hoped Lucas wouldn't hear it.

He didn't need to start a scene in the middle of a street full of alcoholics and fake people who thought they were supermodels.

Harry started walking again, the feeling of his hair standing up on the back of his neck slowly going down, like nothing had ever happened, but seeing Lucas, in such ordinary scenery had frightened him. He hadn't needed that type of scare tonight; it just stacked on top of everything else bothering him in his life. Hermione badgering him to date and move on with his life, without her actually knowing the full story. He didn't have a job- while yes, he did have enough money to live without a job for the rest of his life and he didn't particularly feel like being completely useless. And now; Lucas was turning up whenever the hell he pleased.

Harry sighed, he was being stupid. He was walking on a street, it was a public place, Lucas or anyone he disliked immensely could have turned up there, unknowingly. He was being overdramatic. If Lucas had turned up at his new apartment however; now that would have been scary, especially seeing as Lucas didn't know the address; which was the reason why Harry had moved.

By the time he had finally finished thinking about it all, a little too deeply for his liking, he had walked up the stairs and he was outside the door of his apartment. He walked in and admired the comfy looking scenery. He had admittedly, gone extravagant when he had gotten his apartment, which wasn't usually his style but that made it all the more convincing that it wasn't him hiding here. Lucas knew him too well, and he knew that extravagance made Harry uncomfortable. He liked simple, stylish, but simple; an apartment or house with furniture that he wasn't afraid to break; though admittedly he could just fix it with a flick of his wand.

Harry knew he was being silly about it, but it made him feel safe.

Accept for the fact that he lived alone.

He knew he could fight; he knew that much for sure. But there was still a certain feeling he got when he thought about protecting himself against Lucas; could he do it? He felt like he wouldn't be able to. Many times, he'd contemplating putting an ad in the paper, asking for a roommate; but he felt that would be too odd; who knew who you would get from those ads?

Harry sighed and sat down on the couch, he'd left a stack of books in front of him and some old newspapers. All filled with stories about Auror cases, being solved or not. It was an attempt to either help him definitely decide on becoming an Auror or not becoming an Auror. He was leaning towards not becoming one; but he wasn't going to tell Hermione that, it would give her too much satisfaction.