A million thanks to my beta YetiBettyFoufetti.

Chapter Text

Draco was holding the front door open with one hand and tucking his shirt in with the other.

"Hurry up!" he screeched at Harry, who had crouched down to tie his shoelaces. Giving up, Harry shoved them hastily inside the shoes instead, grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door. Draco followed him closely behind.

They sprinted all the way to the Ministry - Draco had refused to let Harry Apparate them, declaring he will not suffer because of Harry's lack of self control - and only stopped to catch their breath when they were in the lift. They leaned against the metal panel, breath choppy from the effort.

"I hate you," Draco said, his tone serious, turning towards Harry all flustered.

"Likewise. We could have just Apparated," Harry retorted, most likely looking just as flustered.

He was about to lean in and fix Draco's messy hair when the lift came at a standstill. The doors opened. Nobody came in. It was half past nine, so the majority of people were already hard at work. By the time the doors had closed, a question had infiltrated Harry's mind.

What did Draco expect from him? He'd been very clear about wanting a serious relationship. Harry still cringed when he remembered how he'd ran away when Draco asked him if that's what Harry wanted from Draco. How he had panicked, packed, and fled to Scotland. Did he expect Harry to walk into work and proudly declare this relationship? Hold his hand as they exited the lift? Harry didn't want a repeat of the Scotland episode. Or the only-called-him-when-I-was-drunk episode. He was determined to do things right this time. But how was he supposed to know what was the right thing to do?

Before he could come up with a satisfactory answer, the lift arrived at their floor. Draco rushed out and made his way through the open space, waving hello at different people behind the cubicles. Once in front of his office, he briskly turned towards Harry, patted his shoulder two times and unceremoniously said "See you later" before disappearing into his office. Harry was left staring at the closed door.

He strode over to his own office, still dazed. He had the distinct impression he had not woken up yet. He could still feel Draco's hands all over him, could still taste him. It felt unnatural to be without him after a whole weekend spent together. This wasn't normal, was it? He sank into his chair, removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes.

Not one second later, the door opened again. Conrad came in.

"Ah, you're finally here. Come, we have to go."

Like always, life seemed to be springing by while he merely crawled along, struggling to keep up and never quite managing to. Conrad had apparently been tipped off early morning that a wizard they've been looking for (wanted for crimes against muggles, mainly) had been spotted on Knockturn Alley. After a quick conversation with the informant, they set up different observation posts around the shop where he'd been seen, organized a rota to man them, and tried to retrace his steps. Eventually, without any new information, there was nothing left for them to do there.

Back at the Ministry, Ulmer intercepted him in front of the Apparition Room. He needed, simply needed, Harry to represent the BOA at a charity gala. He couldn't attend anymore because his son had gotten into trouble and he needed to travel to Hogwarts to speak at the next Board of Governors meeting, which just happened to fall on the same date. Harry wondered what kind of trouble his son could have gotten into. He knew he was in his third year - a Slytherin, just like his father had been. He eventually capitulated, agreeing to go just because he remembered Ron's meltdown about Ulmer on Friday and assuming he'd make Ron go instead if he refused.

He considered dropping by Draco's office before returning to his; it was, after all, what he would have normally done. Just the idea of it made Harry's heart beat faster. He didn't. Ron was probably there as well, taking advantage of Draco's predilection for administrative tasks just before their weekly meeting, and anyways, he was still a bit irked by Draco's goodbye from that morning.

Let him come to me, he thought bitterly, if he wants to.

He made himself a cup of coffee, heading back to his office. He opened up the files that had appeared on his desk over the weekend, firm on his new found stance. Sorting through them was going slowly, his mind struggling to keep on task. He was about to go fetch Felix to delegate to him some of the minor cases, when he was almost knocked down by the door. Draco came in, promptly closed the door behind him.

"Where have you been?" he asked, a hand still firmly on the door handle, as if ready to get out of there at a moment's notice. "Are you coming to lunch?"

Harry just looked at him, his resolution weakeaning with every second spent in that much close proximity to Draco.

"What's wrong?"

Harry's eyes drifted down to Draco's neck, to the way his shirt clung to his body. He leaped forward, pressed their lips together, pushed him against the door.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed in one breath, his hand searching for skin under Draco's shirt.

"You're insane," Draco said in return, but turned the lock all the same. "Cast a spell. Just in case."

Harry did as he was told.

Draco ended up sending Ana to the canteen across the street to get some take-out for them. Having been otherwise engaged during the lunch break, Harry ate during the weekly Auror team meeting. He came in ten minutes late, wondering if he'd completely lost his mind.

All things considered, it was a very fruitful meeting. They managed to successfully divide the most important tasks of the week, as well as go over the plans for the next mission.

"It really was," Ron agreed when Harry voiced his opinion, once everybody had left and they were alone in Ron's office. "He's doing really well, Felix."

"He's become more confident," Harry remarked, gathering his files.

"He's less confident than Conrad though. I hope he keeps it that way"

"Who isn't less confident than Conrad?" Draco asked from the doorpost. He was carrying what appeared to be a very heavy box full of vials, keeping the door open with his foot. Harry instantly felt his stomach in knots, like he did every time Draco entered a room, regardless of context, hour or company. "Help me with this, will you?" Draco snapped at Ron.

Ron waved his wand, directing the box to float all the way to an open cabinet. Harry remained where he was.

What about Ron? How were they supposed to act in front of Ron? Why was everything so damn complicated?

Draco advanced into the room, picked up a scone from the flying tray, and came to look over Harry's shoulder at the plans he was putting away.

"How was your meeting?" he asked, quietly, just Harry.

"Good," Harry replied, just as quietly, folding a map in two, all too aware of the effect Draco's breath on his neck had on him.

"Good," Draco echoed, placing a very brief kiss on his cheek before biting into his scone. Harry's eyes immediately searched for Ron's. He was looking at them from the other side of the room.

"I take it your date went well, then?" Ron asked, with the casual tone of someone who'd been waiting all day long for the right moment to do so.

"What you'd give to know," Draco mocked, letting himself fall dramatically on the couch. Ron rolled his eyes, then glanced back at Harry. Draco also turned to look at Harry. Harry nodded.

"I'm glad. It was high time anyways."

Harry met Draco's eyes, mirrored his smile. Why had he gotten so worked up over nothing? Things were not so complicated after all. Him and Draco were just together now. The rest, they'd learn on the way.

And they did. The following night they learnt how to show up to dinner together, how to sit down side by side, how to whisper to each other when one of them was ready to leave. Everybody's reaction had been a variation of Ron's: a shrug, a "finally", a warm smile. Only Ginny went off script, slapping her forehead theatrically when she stumbled upon them sitting next to each other on the couch, Harry's hand casually forgotten over Draco's thigh.

"Ah, so that's why Camille hasn't come to one of these in a while, then! I was wondering…"

Draco - whose relationship with Ginny had developed this last year into a friendship fuelled solely by sarcasm and teasing - put an arm around Harry's shoulder and showed her the middle finger.

"If you miss him so much I can give you his number. He'll most definitely lose it if he gets a call from the amazing Ginny Weasly."

"Oh, really? Maybe I will."

"Unfortunately, I don't think he sees you that way."

"What a pity. He's quite the catch. Unlike this one, who can't even speak French."

Harry laughed along with everybody else and did his best to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Not only were they learning how to act like a couple in front of their friends, but also when they were alone. They relearnt each other's bodies. Instead of fumbling about messily like desperate drunkards, they slowed, focused more on each moment. Harry remembered things he'd forgotten, little things that Draco liked. Things that made his eyes open wider, that made his voice catch in his throat.

Harry was learning new ways they could come together, new gestures that could be used instead of words to say things that were still difficult to say.

"You know, both Mother and Father were addicted to therapeutic potions," Draco had told him one night when he'd brought Harry a glass of water to take his pills with. The first time he'd done that since Harry had gotten better.

"I didn't know that," he said, raising himself so that he could take the glass from Draco's hand.

"Yes, all of my life. I thought it was normal for the longest time. I thought everybody drank a couple of potions a day, every day." Harry swallowed the pills - one, two - and put the empty glass on Draco's nightstand. "It was when I got older and started noticing things - trembling hands in the morning and the like - that I realized it was a problem."

"And they never stopped?"

"No." Draco got in under the covers, settled in Harry's arms. "I guess they must have in prison." Harry didn't even want to start to imagine what it must be to go through withdrawal surrounded by Dementors. He tightened his hold of Draco, like a shield. "I think you're really brave, you know." His voice was raw, stripped of any pretense. He'd been speaking in that voice more and more. Harry remembered it from seven years ago. It was the thing that had struck him the most at the beginning - the vulnerability in Draco's voice. "The way you handled it. You didn't try to leave. You didn't ask for potions."

"It's because I'd tried too many times before, with no use." As he spoke, Harry passed his hands through Draco's soft hair, moved them down his neck, his back. "I know how mean Hermione's charms can be when she wants to."

"Still. Still." Draco looked up, found Harry's eyes. "I saw it a lot at the shelters. People going off drugs. I've seen what it does to people. You were so brave."

"That's why you were so good at taking care of me? Because you've done it before?"

Draco laughed, kissed his hand. Oh, how Harry loved it when he did that.

"No."

Yes, things were not so complicated.

Harry was in Madam Malkin's, getting his dress robes adjusted (Draco had insisted he can't show up to a charity gala in his usual "teenager attire") when Conrad's patronus found him. He Apparated out of there with a shirt held together mainly by pins.

It was a short fight. The Aurors had Cobbs and Webb's surrounded, the shopkeeper had managed to get out so there were no civilians inside. Harry was a bit out of practice but that didn't seem to matter - the gray haired man didn't put up too much of a fight. Him and Conrad dropped him off directly at Azkaban, where he'd be held until his trial. Harry insisted they interrogate him thoroughly, since there was a chance some of his attacks on muggles might have gone unnoticed by the BOA. It was pretty late by the time they came back to the office to deal with the paperwork.

Draco was still there. He burst out of his office, goggles on, as soon as he heard their voices in the hallway. He waited for Conrad to disappear into his office before hugging Harry, a worried expression on his face.

"You could have texted. Ouch."

Harry untangled himself from Draco's arms and searched for the pin that had pierced Draco's robe.

"I left my phone at Madam Malkin's. I need to go get it tomorrow."

"A patronus, then. Did you spend all day full of pins?" he asked when Harry identified the pin and showed it to him, grinning. "You're a public danger."

"I spent half my day in Azkaban. Sorry, I didn't think you'd wait," Harry said, tucking Draco's hair behind his ear, "I'll send one next time."

"You better, you-"

"Oi, Harry-" Conrad was coming back. Draco pulled away so fast it took Harry by surprise. "Almost forgot to give you his wand."

Harry took the wand of the wizard they'd just arrested, strode over to his office. He placed the wand in a special box and locked the cabinet he put it in. He felt Draco follow him inside. He had to say something. He was going to. But Draco was quicker, grabbing him from behind and whispering "Let's go home" into his ear.

And Harry forgot there was something to say at all.

As summer came to an end and the evenings became chillier, they continued learning new things about each other. For example, they discovered that they had both been smokers at some point. Draco when he'd been homeless and cigarettes were easier to get than food. He'd quit as soon as he got a job. Harry on and off throughout his twenties. He had quit at the same time he quit drinking. They figured it out when Luna made an offhand remark about Neville being the only smoker left in their group. They were all gathered around Harry's coffee table - Ron, Hermione, Ginny, her new boyfriend - and it was one of those evenings life had a certain lightness to it.

When everybody left, Harry had asked Neville for a cigarette.

"As long as you promise you won't start smoking again," Draco had said when Harry showed it to him, proposing they share it. "I can't stand the smell."

"I promise."

They climbed on the ledge of the window, butted their heads out as much as possible.

"You know what I'd like to do?" Harry exhaled, looking up at the dark sky.

"What?" Draco inquired, accepting the cigarette from Harry.

"I'd like to go flying. It's been ages since I last flew."

"So ask Ginny to take you to practice."

"I don't want to fly in a stadium. I was thinking of Apparating somewhere deserted. Want to come with?"

"Oh."

"What? Scared?" Harry joked. "We don't have to play against each other. We can just fly around."

Draco passed Harry the cigarette. "I don't fly anymore." He climbed down into the living room and disappeared into the darkness of the apartment.

"What do you mean, you don't fly anymore?" Harry put the smoke out - they'd barely smoked half - and followed Draco inside.

"I just don't."

"Why?"

Draco was washing his hands in the kitchen sink by the time Harry reached him. His eyes were partially obstructed by his hair.

"You know why, Harry."

Harry. There was something about the way Draco said his name that always seemed so charged. Sometimes, of tenderness. Sometimes, of something else.

Harry found he did know why.

"You're right. I'll go with Ginny."

Draco turned off the tap and wiped his hands on Harry's kitchen towel. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Something mean. But instead he said "Great." And later, in bed, when Harry found his lips in the dark, "Sorry, I'm not in the mood."

He turned his back to Harry too.

"That's fine," Harry answered, putting a hand over him protectively. Draco didn't push it away, but didn't intertwine his fingers with Harry's either.

In the morning, Draco woke him up with a kiss. He'd seen it so many times before: nights watered down resentment, weakened it.

They were watching a film on Draco's sofa. Harry remarked something to the effect of "I'm sick of your boring choice of films", Draco jokingly tightened his arm around Harry's neck. Harry laughed, pretending to struggle to escape. Somehow he ended up with his head on Draco's lap, still laughing. Draco put a hand to his cheek and Harry grabbed it, pressed his lips against it. For a long time.

"I would have never guessed sneaking around turned you on so much," Draco said, backed up against the farthest wall of the potions stock room. Harry was struggling to unbuckle his belt. He stopped at Draco's words.

"Is that what we're doing? Sneaking around?"

Draco regarded him puzzled, a hand still in his hair.

"You want to do this in front of everybody?" he asked sarcastically.

"I don't mean this."

It'd been four weeks and Draco still pulled away from Harry every time someone other than Ron was in their vicinity at work.

Draco withdrew his hand, fixed up his belt. Harry backed away, half regretting starting this conversation at such an inopportune moment, half annoyed by Draco's reaction to his question.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I thought we were on the same page. I've just been following your lead."

"You've been following my lead? I 've been following your lead."

"Oh… OK. Then I assumed we'd want to be discreet."

"Discreet?" Harry frowned.

"Yes, discreet."

"And why are we being discreet?"

Harry crossed his arms. He was determined not to be the first one to utter Camille's name.

"Are you joking?" Harry didn't dignify that with a response. Draco snickered, started towards the door to his office. "I'm just a bit apprehensive at the thought of being dragged through the press for a couple of months, that's all. I thought you might feel the same."

Harry sighed, feeling downright stupid. He took off his glasses, cleaned the lenses with the hem of his robe and followed Draco into his office.

"You won't be-"

"Yes, I will. I'll be called a Death Eater on every front page and there will be at least 20 opinion pieces hypothesizing that I used Dark Magic on you. Which is - which is fine. It is what it is. I just thought we'd both prefer to delay that moment as long as possible."

"No, no, you're right. Of course."

"But if it's important for you-"

"It's not, it's fine. Really. You're right, I just didn't think about that."

Draco put out a hand, offering it to Harry. Harry took it, let Draco pull him closer, fix his collar.

They kissed, Harry mumbled something about a place he needed to go to even though they both knew it was a lie, that just a minute ago Harry was in no hurry to go anywhere else.

He left Draco's office that day feeling as if more and more of their conversations reassembled fights only fought half way, like a fuse that went out before reaching the bomb. It was a feeling that would come back again and again as autumn drew on.