Benefits

Chapter One

"You need someone Harry," Hermione was saying while eating her Chicken Parmigana. They were sitting outside a small cafe that Hermione had discovered on her way home from the Ministry one day. Ron was sitting next to her, hoeing into a pasta dish.

"I don't need anyone," Harry said, spinning his fork around his own pasta dish, not exactly feeling hungry anymore, "why does everyone keep saying that?"

Ron rolled his eyes, "because, you're famous and the fact that you haven't got a love interest is considered weird."

Hermione puffed out her cheeks, ignoring Ron's comment, "I just think it'd be nice if you had someone," Hermione punched Ron in the arm, "I have this..." she rolled her eyes as she noticed a small drop of sauce sitting on Ron's chin, "untidy specimen," she muttered not unkindly, Ron just smirked and rubbed the sauce off of his chin with the napkin in front of him, which was progress; normally he'd just use the back of his hand.

"I think I'm good in the whole love department, thanks Hermione," Harry said, putting down his fork and sitting back in his chair.

"Wait..." Hermione's eyes widened, "does that mean you've already met someone!?" she exclaimed, sounding excited, "who is he? What's his name?! What does he do?!"

Harry crossed his arms and gave her a look that made her face fall.

"Oh," she sat back down in her chair, "you were just saying."

Harry nodded.

Ever since he had come out as gay to his friends, they had been trying to hook him up with whatever male came by that just happened to be gay or bisexual, even Ron, who had asked a few men if they'd be interested. Though, one time he had phrased the question wrong, and had almost ended up on a date with a promiscuous book store worker in Diagon Alley. It had been a right laugh; Hermione had even started egging him on, begging him to go for the date; for laughs. But Ron had set things straight; literally. Though, somehow Ron and Peter had remained good friends, which ended up with Hermione getting books for free from Flourish and Blotts.

When asked if he wanted to see Harry, Peter had stated he was only into red heads. Which Harry was relieved about; Harry didn't have a type, but all he knew was that it wasn't Peter.

"I don't need a relationship right now," Harry said, "at the moment; I'm busy trying to focus on becoming an Auror."

Hermione frowned, "I still don't think you should do it."

Ron looked scandalised, "why not!?" he asked, "He'd be the best Auror there is!"

Hermione sighed; they'd had this argument with Harry a lot of times. Ron had never been there, or had never really been listening. Though, most of the time it was a whispered conversation, because she knew Ron would either get offended, or act as if Hermione were sacrificing kittens to Satan.

"Harry and I have been talking about this for a long time," Hermione said slowly, "and I personally don't think it's a good idea."

Harry sighed, but didn't say a word.

"They could use him for his fame," Hermione said, "hell; they could use you for your fame Ron."

"I'm not famous," Ron said with a shrug.

"You just got asked for an autograph last week from a little girl who said 'thank you for helping Harry Potter save the world'!" Hermione said, sounding exasperated.

"And you actually gave her your autograph," Harry said with a small laugh. Ron's face turned beat red.

(***)

Draco was nervous. He had been called to his bosses' office, which was never a good thing. He'd either written a bad story, or someone had said something particularly nasty about him. Admittedly, he had called Gina Wilson a fat whale the other day; but he had been stressed. If that was the reason why he was being called in, he hoped he'd just get a slap on the wrist, like a child, and told to apologise.

Maybe give her a couple of galleons for a gym membership, Draco thought, chuckling to himself.

He stood outside the door, it was mostly horrible painted white wood, with a glass panel going from the top right down the middle of the door. It was clear and it had the name of the newspapers editor on it; Barnabas Cuffe. He could see the man inside, pouring over bits of parchment that Draco assumed were numerous articles written by his colleagues.

He knocked lightly on the door, watching as Barnabas looked up and signalled him to come inside.

Draco walked in and closed the door slowly behind him, trying hard not to slam it and annoy his boss even more. He turned around and stood in front of the man's desk, his hands behind his back, trying to look casual, but polite and patient.

He finally looked up from what he was reading and politely smiled up at Draco, he motioned towards the two chairs sitting in front of his desk, "please, feel free to sit," he said. Draco nodded and did as he was told, sitting down. The chairs were uncomfortable. You'd think a man so rich would purchase more comfortable chairs for the guests in his office, but no.

"Draco, you know that I find you a promising worker," Barnabas said, lacing his fingers together and leaning his chin on his hands, peering at him, like he was his favourite employee. Though; Draco was sure he did that with all of his employees.

"Of course," Draco said, "you have complimented my journalism skills many times, sir."

Barnabas continued to smile warmly at him, the smile never wavering, "and you realise why I hired you, don't you?"

Draco nodded, "because you believe in giving everyone second chances."

Barnabas looked at him like you would a student who just got the correct answer, but Draco was getting more and more nervous. If this had been about him insulting Gina while he had been under-pressure, Gina would be here and they'd have the situation half resolved by now. But at this point, Draco didn't even know what the situation was.

"You've been asked," he said, "to work for another elite newspaper."

Draco's eyes widened.

"And I am willing to put you through to them, tell them about your talents," he said, "but there is a catch."

Draco waited.

"You'll have to stop publishing under a fake name," he said, "and you'd have to move to another country."

He froze, "uh..." Draco's mouth was agape and the only intelligent sound he could make was the sound of a zombie, which wasn't all that intelligent after all.

"I know what you're thinking," Barnabas said, "that's a big change, especially seeing as you'll be moving to Australia."

Draco frowned, "Australia?!" he exclaimed, he stood up, aggravated, "what bloody magazine is there in fucking Australia that is more elite than the one here?!" he asked, "is saying g'day mate, lemme put a shrimp on da barbie´ suddenly counted as classy and elite language?!"

Barnabas shook his head, like he was talking to a child that he couldn't reason with.

"You have to understand Draco, that they are not requesting it. They are forcing you," he said, sounding frustrated, "and also at my demand! I am doing you a favour!"

Draco sat and waited, making a motion with his hand, asking Barnabas to go on.

"The Ministry of Magic is trying to clear the UK of former Death Eaters."

Draco groaned aloud, "I was hardly a Death Eater!" he exclaimed, "yes; I had the mark and attended a minimal amount of meetings and had, and not to mention failed a mission," he said, sounding irritated, "I have done nothing wrong, other than follow in my idiotic father's footsteps, out of fear!"

"Draco-."

"Is there anything I can do to stay here?" Draco asked, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

"Well...they're holding back on those Death Eaters that prove their allegiance to the good side," he said slowly, "and those with families."

"What qualifies as a family?" Draco asked, gritting his teeth. The only family he really had was his mother and father, but he never talked to them. Plus, they were former Death Eaters themselves, and much more active in the cause; the Ministry shipping off a family of Death Eaters? They'd love it.

"Not Death Eater parents," Barnabas muttered under his breath, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

"Continue Cuffe," Draco said, trying to sound as venomous as possible. Barnabas recoiled, causing Draco to mentally smirk; he still had what it took to make people fear him.

"Wives, husbands, children," Barnabas stated as if it were obvious, "adopted children included," he added, eyeing Draco weirdly, "do you have any of those things at all Draco?"

Draco gave him what he hoped was a small sincere smile, "indeed I do," he said, "well...a fiancé."

Barnabas raised an untidy, bushy eyebrow, "oh? You never mentioned it."

Draco scowled, "didn't think it was anyone's business but my fiancés and my own. When was it stated in the terms of working at this newspaper that I had to mention-."

"Okay, okay," Barnabas raised his hands in surrender, "I get it," Barnabas's expression turned into a smirk, making Draco freeze in place and swallow harshly. This couldn't be good.

"Surely, you and fiancé wouldn't be opposed to joined me and my wife for dinner sometime," Barnabas said, "we'd love to have some company sometime and if all goes well, I'll put in a good word at the Ministry, mention that you're engaged to be married-."

"Of course," Draco said nervously, "only if you're uh..." he began tapping his foot on the ground nervously, cursing his habit of doing so, "only if you're not homophobic, of course."

Barnabas didn't even bat an eyelid, "of course I'm not!" he said.

Draco rolled his eyes, he'd been betting on the fact that Barnabas was homophobic, most old people were.

"Then...ahh...I'll contact you," Draco said, "if I have no plans."

Barnabas nodded pleasantly, "I'm glad we had this talk Draco," he said with an easy smile. He stood up and held out his hand to Draco, who was still slightly frozen in his spot.

Draco stepped forward slowly, hoping that Barnabas didn't notice that he was practically shaking like a leaf; he smiled a nervous smile and shook the man's hand, "always a pleasure Barnabas," he lied. He turned around towards the door and began walking towards it. His hand was on the handle, ready to turn it when Barnabas said his name again.

"Yes sir?" Draco asked, trying to sound polite despite the fact that he just wanted to leave the man's office sooner, rather than later.

"I was just wondering," he said, "what's your fiancés name?"

Draco stammered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before choking out the first name that came to mind, "uh, Harry."

Barnabas's eyes widened, "not Harry Potter, surely!"

Draco's laughed nervously and shook his head, "of course not!" he exclaimed, "We were enemies in school. Besides; I'm pretty sure he's married to a woman."

"Bloody hope not," Barnabas scoffed, "we just did an article piece with Witch Weekly, about him coming out of the closet a little less than five months ago!"

Draco's eyes widened, Potter? Gay; surely not; he never would have picked it to be honest.

Didn't he have the hots for the Weaslette?

He shook his head, "no, not Harry Potter, a different Harry," he said, "Harry...Watson."

Barnabas nodded, "alright," he sounded a little less excited now, "well, I best be getting back to these articles," he said, motioning a hand towards the massive cluster of parchment on his desk, with various amounts of cursive and chicken scratch handwriting, "have a good day Draco," he said, "feel free to take the rest of the day off," he muttered, not looking at Draco, "tell your fiancé about the dinner you've been invited to."

Draco nodded, "I shall," he watched as Barnabas sat down, back in his office chair, and then awkwardly stepped out of the room, closing the door a little louder than he normally would. He was unnerved, and now he'd gotten himself into a big load of shit.