It was easy to forget Harry Potter was one of the most influential wizards alive, even to Draco, who was perhaps more keenly aware of that than other people. Ever since they became closer, he was treated better by his colleagues, by the press, by his rabbit foot supplier.
That was the power he had over public opinion, that was the magnitude of his gravitational pull - his mere unspoken approval was more potent than countless opinion pieces. Twelve years after the fact, he still remained unchallenged, his Auror career only adding weight to what every single wizard in the UK took for a fact: that he was the most powerful man alive, a symbol of bravery and boldness impossible to surpass.
Yet, it was easy to forget all that when he still held the same title he did when he joined the BAO, that of an Auror. Not Head Auror. Not Head of the Department. Just Auror. It was easy to forget it when he showed up to work functions still dressed like he did in his early twenties (jeans and baggy sweaters). Or when he hid behind Draco to avoid bumping into someone he didn't want to talk to (just the acting Minister of Magic). Or when he smiled at him from the other side of a crowded room, his eyes lingering just a second too long before turning back to the person he was speaking to.
It was usually easy to forget, but not that Thursday morning when Draco woke up to Harry's face imprinted on the cover of every single morning paper he was subscribed to. He had done it. He had captured the last of the gang that had used the Waterloo train station to smuggle illegal potion supplies into all of Great Britain, causing a massive explosion of very potent, counterfeit potions, including Sleepless Dreams, Calming Potion, Felix Felicis and many others. And he had done it alone. That probably meant another Order of Merlin would soon be gathering dust on his disorderly bookshelf.
That also meant he'd be back at the office.
Draco sighed and put away the newspaper. The day'd just started and he already had a headache.
It was a sunny day too. The streets were full. London was always crowded, but the hotter months attracted swarms of tourists which drowned the city and made it almost inhabitable. He strenuously made his way through the groups of French and German teenagers taking up the entirety of the sidewalk in front of a Pret A Manger . He passed by the long queue for the British Museum, then turned right around the corner and found himself in front of the Ministry.
What was he going to say to Harry?
It had been almost a week since he Dissaparated, leaving Draco's sentence suspended in the air like a forgotten balloon on a windless day. When he'd calmed down (after finishing that bottle of Merlot) he considered calling him. He even considered going to his apartment, barging in with the same confidence Harry had barged into his life, and finishing his goddamn sentence. But he didn't. Instead, he spent the weekend reading bad political thrillers in bed, barely answering Camille's texts. When he finally did call him back, citing inexistant mountains of work as an excuse for his tardiness, he had been relieved to find out his tone betrayed nothing out of the ordinary. He still knew how to lie, it seemed.
The Monday after, Draco found Harry's door locked. Thinking that was unusual, since Harry was always the first one in and the last one out, he made the mistake of dropping by Ron's office.
"Hey, do you know where Harry is?"
Ron gestured to Draco to come in. He leaned back on his chair and watched as Draco made himself comfortable on the couch.
"Hmm…"
"What?"
"So, you want to know where Harry is?"
"Yes?"
"Harry's in Scotland."
"Wasn't he supposed to go with Conrad's team in May?"
"Very good observation! Yes. Yes, he was."
"Aha… so, great. He's in Scotland. Thank you for answering my very straightforward question in the least straightforward way possible."
"Hmmm… yes… the question is… why is he in Scotland, Draco?"
"How should I know?" Draco laughed. "Because he always does what he wants, when he wants to, regardless of other people's plans? Because he doesn't realize his actions impact his colleagues? The possibilities are endless!"
"Aha. And so it is your official position that it has nothing to do with you?"
"With me? What could it have to do with me?"
But Ron just continued squinting his eyes at him.
"What's up with you this morning?"
"Hmm… you have nothing to confess to, then?"
He'd been afraid this was where Ron was heading to, but he'd really hoped he was wrong. He decided to hang on to that hope for a while longer.
"If you want me to understand your point, you have to be less oblique than that."
"Ah, excuse me for being oblique! I wasn't aware that's what I was doing. I'm just wondering when you were finally going to tell me that you and Harry used to go out!"
"Ah!"
"Yes!"
Draco touched the back of his head awkwardly. He hadn't considered the possibility that Ron knew about that. That anybody other than him and Harry knew about that.
"I just … I didn't tell you in case Harry didn't."
"Why?"
"I don't know, in case he didn't want you to know?"
"Why wouldn't he want me to know?"
"I don't know, Ron!"
"So?"
"So what?"
"What happened?"
"You mean, back then?"
"No, I mean now! Why did you ignore each other all week long? Why did Harry go to Scotland out of the blue?"
"I don't know why he went to Scotland! I assure you that has nothing to do with me!"
"Aha… but something did happen?"
Draco sank deeper into the couch.
"Trust me, you don't want to know."
"Try me."
"No!"
"I tell you everything!"
"I swear to God, Ron… fine, but you can't- you can never tell Camille!"
Ron got up.
"Oh my god! What did you do, Draco?"
"Nothing! We almost slept together. But we didn't!"
"Almost? Almost? "
"Well… we were about to... when Harry suddenly realized that would technically be considered cheating… er… and then he Dissaparated out of my apartment."
Ron's mouth was open.
"He realized it? What about you?"
"Of course I realized it too! It was just a stupid mistake!"
"And you think him finding the first excuse to get out of the office has nothing to do with that?"
"Er… no? I don't know, it's not like I had time to think about it. But it sounds more like he just got sick of waiting for the rest of the team to make out their minds and decided to get the job done himself, like always."
"Wow," Ron said, settling back on his office chair. "If one thing hasn't changed since we were in school, Draco, it's you idealizing Harry!"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing! You were right, I shouldn't even have asked. I'm not getting involved in this! How will I be able to face Camille next weekend?"
"Ron, I will murder you with my own hands if you let anything slip! And don't tell Hermione either!"
"You're delusional, mate. What I know, she knows. Anyways…"
"God damnit, Ron."
"... help me with these forms, it's your fault I have to write them anyways."
"What forms?"
"The million permissions I have to pretend Harry filled before leaving."
Ron's words came back to him as the lift opened its doors on the fifth floor and he was met by a bustling sea of people. He immediately spotted Harry in the middle of it all, smiling politely. Nobody paid him any mind while he crossed the open space. He poured himself the third coffee of the day and watched as Harry shook the hands of virtually every member of the BOA. Ulmer was by his side, basking in the residual attention Harry inevitably attracted.
Looking at him from the sidelines, like he always did, like he had always done, he tried to imagine what it must be like to be him. To make every single head in the room turn when you enter it. To have people clinging to your every word. To know you have done nothing wrong, ever, not even once.
The closest he could personally get to that feeling was by proxy, just like Ulmer. So, Harry wanted to sleep with him (or at least he did a week ago). Most men did, he'd figured out at some point. He understood the appeal. He was well dressed. He was witty. And Harry had quite the reputation in that regard. He hadn't known this before, but ever since entering the inner circle he'd been told all about Harry's notorious short lived relationships, abundant one night stands and impossibility to commit. Which had somehow made him less sour about what had transpired between them so long ago. Or so he'd thought until a week ago.
"Malfoy!"
"Sir!" he exclaimed, startled. He was used to Ulmer pretending he doesn't exist. Not surprising in the slightest, seeing how he used to come to dinner at the Manor when Draco was a child, but still maddening.
"You've got your hands full now, haven't you?"
Draco assumed he was talking about the fact that Harry had managed to seize the last and the largest batch of counterfeit potions, which were all probably waiting for him on his desk.
"You need to start sorting through those right away, see what can be done about the people who've been poisoned."
Harry was talking to David and Felix by the lifts. He hadn't looked at Draco once.
"I'll get on it right away, sir."
"You better!" he said, slapping his shoulder aggressively and moving on without as much as a goodbye. But Draco didn't care. Not today. He'd noticed Harry finally heading towards his own office. He marched in the same direction.
"Hey," he said, opening the door Harry had just closed. "Can we talk?"
He was already behind his desk, cleaning his glasses with the sleeves of his robe. He barely reacted to Draco's entrance, as if he'd been expecting it.
"Yes, I guess we can talk. Close the door."
Draco complied.
"How are you? Congratulations on -"
"Draco, I'll be short. I want to apologize for what happened…"
"You don't need to- "
"Let me finish. I want to apologize for flirting with you while you were in a committed relationship. That's not something I'm proud of. So, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't cause any lasting damage to your marriage."
Draco adjusted his position, trying to gracefully take Harry's coldness.
"That's all I had to say. You can leave now."
He tried to come up with the most concise way of putting into words how he felt.
"You're being ridiculous."
"Yes, maybe. I'd like you to leave my office now."
"Really? I know we didn't have the most pleasant conversation, but Dissaparating in the middle of it, then disappearing for a whole week and now acting like -"
"I didn't disappear for a week, you knew exactly where I was. I imagine you got the memos I sent, just like everybody else in the department."
"You know that's not what I-"
"And you could have called if you had something urgent to tell me. Or are you still not comfortable enough around me to do what?"
Draco crossed his arms.
"That's low, and that's not the point."
"I'm not interested in what your point is. You made your point very clear last week."
While he said that, he circled the desk and advanced towards the door.
"So let me get this straight. In fact, you don't want to talk about what happened, and instead will shun me from now on? Is that the plan?"
"That is precisely the plan," he said, opening the door.
But Draco didn't move. He stared at Harry, who stared right back.
"Fine, you child!"
Harry kept his promise, too. Gone were the days they would spend the entire morning chatting over Draco's brewing cauldron. Gone were the days they would sit together during meetings and at lunch. Ron had tried at the beginning to carry on as if nothing had happened, but soon came to realize the futility of the exercise and contented himself to spending time with them separately. So, the only interactions they had were Harry's weekly potion refill, and those usually lasted for less than five minutes. He even took the wrong potion on multiple accounts because of how fast he tried to get away from his presence.
"This is a Dreamless Sleep Potion," Draco told him while pointing to the smallest bottle in the box in Harry's arms. "And you wrote here you took an Anti Paralysis Potion."
"Oh. By mistake."
Draco raised an eyebrow and picked up the Sleeping Potion.
"Well, pay attention next time. I could get in trouble if these go missing."
"I will," he mumbled, already a foot out the door. He didn't even wait to get the Anti Paralysis potion he'd forgotten.
Things home weren't any better either. He'd done his best to compartmentalize, but the guilt was starting to slowly eat at him. Things that before he had taken for granted, like seeing Camille preparing breakfast, were now anxiety provoking. On one hand, he was scared he had ruined everything, that he would never be able to not think about Harry's lips every time he kissed Camille. On another hand, he found it unnerving how easy it was to pretend things were normal, as if normality was something that just carried on by itself, despite how he happened to feel about it.
He woke up particularly anxious on Ron's birthday. Camille had come over for the weekend the night before. They spent Friday night out with Camille's old college flatmate and arrived home late, but he still woke up before the sun was up. He waited until the first rays of light rose on the bedroom wall, then silently got out of bed. By the time Camille joined him in the kitchen, he had planned an entire day for the two of them. That was mostly to distract himself from the fact that Ron's birthday was the event neither him nor Harry could afford to avoid, like they had done for the past fortnight when it came to office drinks, dinners with friends and any other sort of activity that they were not forced to attend by a work contract.
First, they went to have brunch in Camille's favorite restaurant.
"Ah, c'était trop bien! "
Next, they visited the newest exhibition at the Tate Museum. Finally, back in their neighbourhood, they dropped by a bookstore so that Camille could stock up on some English titles.
They'd been in there for about twenty minutes, browsing the new titles section, when he spotted Harry. He had to do a double take to make sure it was really him. He was maybe a couple of meters in front of him, hunched over a book. He appeared completely immersed in it too. Before Draco could come up with an escape plan, he watched in horror as Camille advanced towards him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Hi, 'Arry! How are you?"
Startled, Harry hastily put back on the shelf the book he was reading and turned towards Camille.
"Hi! I'm… great, and you?"
"I'm also great, thank you!"
They shook hands. Harry looked around. When their eyes met, Draco let go of the pile of books he had amassed and made his way to where they were.
"Hi, Harry. What a surprise!"
Not knowing what to do, they shook hands as well.
"Yeah, I'm just with…"
To Draco's relief, Hermione appeared from around the corner.
"Oh, hi!" she exclaimed when she saw them. While Camille and Hermione kissed each other on the cheek Draco threw another glance at Harry, but Harry didn't look back. He didn't dare make a sound while Camille and Hermione exchanged pleasantries.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Hermione when she reached in to kiss him.
"Oh, I'm just looking for this science fiction book Ron read a couple of years ago on vacation. He talked to me about it last night, and I thought it would be nice if I could find it for him."
"What's the title?" Camille asked, intrigued.
"He doesn't remember, of course."
"Ah."
"So I've been reading the summary of every science fiction book they have in this store!"
"Do you need 'elp?"
"No, no, I'm giving up. We need to go pick up the cake, anyways."
After five more excruciating minutes, Hermione and Harry finally said their excuses and left.
"See you tonight!" Hermione waved from the doorframe.
Draco waved back. He watched through the glass door as they crossed the street, then turned around and picked up the book Harry had been reading. The title didn't tell him anything, so he opened it and started reading the introduction. Confused, he checked the back, then the summary. He looked again at the cover.
"Draco, on doit y aller."
"J'arrive…"
He looked one more time at the cover, then put the book back in its place and followed Camille to the check out desk.
Why, he asked himself while bagging Camille's newest acquisitions, was Harry reading a book of testimonials from people who took antidepressants? He was sure he had the right book, just like he was sure he'd seen him reading it, not just browsing through it. Did he develop a sudden interest in the field of psychology? Did he know somebody who took antidepressants? But who in the wizarding world took muggle antidepressants?
"Camille?"
"Oui? "
"Do you know any Healers who prescribe antidepressants? To wizards?"
"Hmm… in France it 'appens sometimes. Usually, if the patient previously abused a therapeutic potion, you can't risk prescribing it to them anymore."
"Aha, I see…"
Back home, Camille went to take a shower. Draco laid down on the couch and fell asleep to the sound of the afternoon traffic. He woke up with Camille cuddled up at his feet, reading. He almost reached for him, but didn't.
"Good morning, love," Camille said, turning the page. "We should get going soon."