The Slytherin Gryffindor


Draco flipped through the book idly and then returned it to the shelf. He perused the nearby titles and scowled in annoyance. Why did he even bother looking here? He would most likely have to put in a special order.

Movement snagged his attention, and he turned to see another patron of the bookstore midway down the aisle. The man was intently examining a shelf of books with his head tipped slightly upward. Draco admired the man's profile, thinking it had been a long time since he had seen anyone quite so delicious. The man had exquisite features, straight nose and jaw, beautiful cheekbones, a throat that begged to be kissed, and a slender, fit body that looked infinitely shaggable, even partially hidden by dark robes. A mop of thick black hair adorned his head, making him look like he had just rolled out of bed after a long night of dissolute behavior.

Draco sighed regretfully. Anyone that good-looking had to be taken, most likely married to some shrewish female that wouldn't have the first clue how to keep a man like that happy. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. Draco walked over to the man, silent as a shadow, and reached over the brunet's shoulder to rest a hand against the shelf, partially trapping his prey. They were of a height, Draco noted.

"Looking for something in particular?" Draco asked huskily.

The man stiffened slightly, but did not move away. "Erm… Not really, I'm just browsing."

Draco's eyes flicked to the subject matter, and then back to the man's nape. Draco enjoyed the way the midnight hair curled slightly where it touched the man's collar. He longed to put his fingers into it and feel the texture. He had always had a thing for brunets. "Looking into Archaic Magic, then?"

"I like to research obscure spells. You never know when they might come in handy." The man's voice was just as fascinating as the rest of him—low and almost sensuous.

"That's quite a coincidence. I have a huge library full of obscure spell books," Draco said, feeling the man's hair tickle against his lips gently as he spoke. He breathed in the heady scent emanating from him—the man smelled like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, windblown and somewhat wild. Draco wanted to tip the man's head aside, taste the pale neck, and work his way downward from there.

"Do you work here?" the brunet asked and turned around, still partially trapped by Draco's arm. Their eyes met, and Draco noted with surprise that his eyes were quite shockingly green, a color he hadn't seen since—

"Malfoy?" the man asked sharply.

Draco staggered back until his arse hit the shelves opposite. He gaped at the black-haired man.

"Potter?" he replied in the same shocked tone.

The two men stared at each other. How long had it been? Ten years? Twelve? And where the hell were those stupid spectacles the Chosen One usually wore? The hair that covered his forehead and touched the thick, black eyelashes effectively hid the famous scar.

"You look… different," Draco said, struggling for normalcy in a world gone suddenly insane. He had been trying to seduce Harry fucking Potter!

Potter nodded. "I don't need glasses any more. St. Mungo's came up with a spell that made them unnecessary."

Draco cursed himself. How could he not have known it was Potter? It should have been obvious from the hair alone. And of course he was fit, the prat was a bloody Auror, still the Golden Boy of the Ministry, although he was no longer a boy. Not by a long shot, Draco thought, raking his eyes over Potter's tense form.

The green eyes narrowed and Potter straightened. "Were you trying to—?" Potter asked, and then shook his head abruptly. "No, never mind." He turned and started to walk away.

"Was I what, Potter?" Malfoy demanded.

"I said never mind, Malfoy," Potter said and continued to march toward the front of the store. Draco felt a familiar flash of rage. Damn if Potter had lost his ability to make him see red! He stalked after the Gryffindor.

"Running away, Potter?" Draco taunted just as they reached the end of the shelves and entered a small seating area flanked with window alcoves.

"Back off, Malfoy!" Potter snarled. Draco set his jaw and caught Potter on the shoulder. He spun the Gryffindor around, enraged without really knowing why. He grabbed the front of Potter's robes in both hands and shoved the brunet against the end of a bookshelf. Several volumes fell over from the jolt.

Draco leaned close to Potter until his lips brushed against the Chosen One's soft earlobe. "Yes, Potter, I was trying to lure you into my bed," Draco said softly. "Because you looked like you haven't been properly fucked in a very long time… if ever."

Draco pulled back and noted with satisfaction that Potter's eyes were tightly closed, and there was a distinct unevenness to his breathing. The Gryffindor raised his hands and shoved hard against Draco's chest. Draco stumbled back, and met Potter's enraged glare with a challenging smirk.

Draco suddenly noticed Scorpius and another boy talking quietly in a window seat nearby. The children had witnessed the exchange, something Draco would never have allowed under normal circumstances. Of course, nothing involving Potter ever seemed to be "normal circumstances".

"Scorpius," Draco said sharply, "Come along."

Without another glance at Potter, Draco swept out of the bookstore. Scorpius trailed obediently behind.

Draco paced the Malfoy library from the window to the fireplace, and back again. Scorpius watched him curiously. Draco forced himself to breathe deeply and relax. He smiled at his blond son.

"So… you seem to have made a friend," Draco commented.

Scorpius shrugged. "Perhaps. His name is Albus."

Draco recoiled, and then reprimanded himself. For fuck's sake, why did he always allow Harry Potter to affect him? Of course, this was the first time he had been overcome with lust because of the Gryffindor…

"Albus Potter?" Draco asked quietly.

"He didn't mention his last name. Who was that man?"

"His name is Harry Potter. I'm sure you'll hear all about him once you get to Hogwarts." Draco was pleased to note his tone did not sound the least bit sarcastic. "Run along now, Scorpius. I have some research to do."

Scorpius nodded solemnly and went out without a word. Draco looked after him for a moment, suddenly wondering if Scorpius spent too much time alone. Draco remembered feeling terribly lonely as a child. Was he doomed to make the same mistakes his parents had made? Did he keep Scorpius trapped in this mausoleum alone too often? Draco hurried to the doorway and called after his pale son. The boy turned.

"Would you like to go to Paris this evening? We'll have dinner and find something interesting to do afterward."

The brilliant smile on his son's face made Draco lean against the doorway for a moment, nearly overcome with adoration and pride. Martinique was a vicious bitch, but she had given him Scorpius. For that, he would gladly pay her bills and support her self-indulgent habits.

He vaguely wondered at his wife's whereabouts, and then returned to the library. He cast a quick spell at the cabinet containing his archived Daily Prophets.

"Show me every issue with an article about Harry Potter going back… three years."

Draco was appalled at the size of the stack of papers that flew to the top of his desk.

"The famous Harry Potter," he murmured as he sat down. He lifted the most recent volume from the pile. "Let's see what you've been up to lately."

Stalking Harry Potter

It took Draco four months to realize he was stalking Harry Potter, and another three months after that to admit he was obsessed. Once he accepted it as fact, he found it easier to acquire information on the Auror, probably because he wasn't fighting himself at every turn. He learned everything there was to know about the public life of the Chosen One, most of which Draco already knew. Potter was, of course, married to his childhood sweetheart, Ginevra Weasley. They had three children, James, Albus, and Lily. In between expelling children, Ginny played Quidditch and worked part-time at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. She had not played Quidditch at all for the past two years, citing an old injury as her reason for retirement. Draco suspected she was simply not quite good enough to keep up with the younger players.

Harry Potter had worked at the Ministry since leaving Hogwarts, first tracking down former Death Eaters, and eventually righting other types of wrongs for the Ministry. He had gone through a succession of partners, Ron Weasley among them, until Weasley had left the Auror Department and accepted a post in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The on-record reason for that change stated that his wife, the esteemed Hermione Granger, had preferred he take a job less dangerous after the birth of their first child, Rose. Draco thought it far more likely the Weasel finally realized he would never measure up to Potter and finally stopped trying.

Granger, of course, worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and spent an inordinate amount of time investigating Draco in the vain hope of turning up something illegal. Unfortunately for Granger, she would always be several paces behind Draco, especially without Potter's luck guiding her footsteps.

Potter was extremely dedicated to both his family and his career, and was universally loved by all. Draco snorted. Thus he concluded his research into Harry Potter's public persona.

Potter's private life was more difficult to uncover.

Scorpius had turned into a genuine Malfoy, surreptitiously arranging meetings with his new friend, Albus Potter. Draco had intercepted several owls from young Potter, and had willingly acquiesced to Scorpius's requests to travel to Diagon Alley for various reasons. It did the boy good to have a friend, even if that friend bore an uncomfortable resemblance to his father. It also boosted Scorpius's confidence to think that he maneuvered Draco to achieve his own ends.

Draco was loathe to pry information from his own son, especially when he was pretending not to know about Albus Potter, but he was damned curious to know the status of Harry Potter's personal affairs. Draco could not even scheme properly until he had the answer to that particular question.

The answer to Draco's dilemma arrived at the Manor for Christmas dinner. Draco had met the young man a few times prior, but had never had much use for the lad, until now. Narcissa Malfoy had made up with her sister, Andromeda. It had taken several years after the war, and months after Lucius died, for Narcissa's loneliness to become nearly overwhelming. The presence of Scorpius helped, and Narcissa was far more of a mother to the boy than Martinique, but she needed feminine companionship.

Draco had been surprised when his Aunt Andromeda appeared at the Manor one afternoon, but she seemed to be just as wounded as Narcissa. Eventually, the two of them became nearly inseparable. Andromeda Tonks was a frequent visitor to the Manor these days. Teddy Lupin's presence was much more rare.

"Cousin Ted," Draco said after guiding the teenager into the library after dinner. "You are quite close to the Potters, are you not?"

Teddy gazed at him warily and scratched his head thoughtfully with a finger. His hair was platinum blond, which Draco thought was rather unusual considering his brown-haired father.

"Sure," the boy said finally. Draco smiled. Lupin was almost as wary as a Malfoy.

"You will finish Hogwarts next year, correct? Have you given any thought as to your career choice?"

Teddy sat up quickly, and his brown eyes brightened. "I want to be an Auror, like my mum."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, and wondered how much of that desire was due to Potter's inspiration. "Perhaps Harry Potter's influence can help you there, eh?"

Teddy shook his head. "Oh no. Uncle Harry would never do that. He says we have to earn our way." Teddy flushed. "He has been teaching me some advanced spells, though. He says Professor Lovegood is a good teacher, but she doesn't always teach things that would be useful in the real world."

Draco bit back several unkind comments, and managed to say nothing. Luna Lovegood teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was an act that surely defied the laws of nature. Luckily, Scorpius would receive plenty of training in that particular field right here at home.

Draco shook his head sadly. "A pity. If I worked in the Ministry, I would certainly use whatever means necessary to help you out."

Teddy grinned. "Thanks, Cousin Draco. I should be able to manage on my own. Of course, I still have to finish school, and then pass the Auror exams." A look of consternation crossed the teen's face. "I just hope Victoire will wait for me to get a job. I won't be able to buy a house or anything until then…"

"Girlfriend?" Draco asked, although he already knew that Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley were a couple. They had been since childhood, apparently. Draco had seen Bill Weasley's daughter several times. Victoire was a true beauty, luckily getting her looks from her French mother rather than her ginger father, although Bill Weasley had been quite handsome in his younger days.

Draco sat forward, as if suddenly inspired by a thought. "How would you like to work for me?" he asked. Teddy blinked at him.

"But… I…" He took a breath. "Thank you, cousin, but I really want to try for an Auror position."

Draco chuckled. "You can still do that, of course. I meant right now. You can do odd jobs for me and I'll pay you. You can start saving for that house early."

Young Lupin shot to his feet. "You mean it? What sort of odd jobs? Of course I'll work for you, as long as it's not illegal. I've heard Auntie Hermione nattering on about you a time or two…" Teddy flushed.

Draco waved his comments away. "Errands, mostly. Fear not, I'll keep you busy. You can work for me here during your holiday breaks, and also during the summer. I'll require you to be here three days a week during the summer, and possibly more."

They discussed salary and other trivialities, and when Teddy left, Draco sat back in satisfaction. He had just purchased an informant.

Quidditch Queue

Draco saw Harry Potter several times after the incident at the bookstore, but always from a distance. He wondered if Potter intentionally avoided him, and decided it was likely. Regardless of how many times Draco saw the Auror, Potter never seemed to see Draco. One notable exception occurred at the Quidditch World Cup, the summer before Scorpius was due to start school.

Draco sat in a higher box than Potter, who was in the best pitch-side seats near Minister Shacklebolt. Ever the celebrity, Draco sneered to himself. He alternately watched the game and Harry Potter, adding to his mental list of information about the Auror.

Teddy had been a valuable font of information, but he tended toward taciturn silence in response to questions about Potter's personal relationships. Draco knew nearly everything there was to know about Potter's past, but his present remained something of a mystery.

Draco realized he should have sought out Potter in a public setting—not that such an opportunity often presented itself. Potter's social life seemed to revolve around the Ministry and his children, to the exclusion of all else. It was such a waste.

Watching Potter with his family was enlightening. Potter did not sit beside his wife; the young auburn-haired daughter sat between them. Potter's copy—Scorpius's friend Albus—sat on the other side of Potter, and then the older brother, whose hair was dark brown. Quite the collection, but at least the boys had been spared the Weasley calling card.

Draco noted no touches between the adult Potters—no hand clasping, no brushing of shoulders, no quick touches to draw attention to something on the pitch. They might have been strangers for all they interacted. Interesting, considering they were supposed to be in love. Draco glanced at his own wife, seated on the other side of Scorpius. Draco smiled as he acknowledged that he would not touch Martinique for all the Galleons in Potter's vault. He had already done that once; he suppressed a shudder at the memory.

Martinique's cold green eyes slanted toward him, and she pasted a false smile on her beautiful lips. She despised Quidditch, but her contract with Draco required that she attend a minimum of four public functions with him per year. She could well play the role of perfect wife and dutiful mother. She had better, for what Draco paid her.

Draco dismissed her to watch Potter again. The Auror got up—alone—and headed out, probably to seek out the loo. Draco got up to follow.

The line for the row of toilets was fairly long—this was the World Cup, after all, and the weather was nice enough to ensure record attendance. Draco maneuvered himself until he stood directly behind Harry Potter.

He leaned into the Auror slightly, and touched his lips to the back of Potter's ear.

"Having fun, Potter?" he asked, and suppressed a chuckle when the Auror stiffened.

"Malfoy," Potter said politely and tried to step away without crowding into the bloke in front of him. "Yes, having a lovely time. You?"
Draco crowded. He touched as much of Potter as he could get away with, and drank in the scent of Potter's hair.

"I'm having fun now," Draco purred. His hand moved between them to rest gently on the small of Potter's back. He had been admiring that back as the game progressed, and felt it only fair that he should be allowed to touch it in tribute.

Potter obviously felt otherwise, but he was trapped.

"What are you doing?" he snarled.

Draco's fingers splayed and curved over the flesh covered only by a thin Muggle t-shirt. Draco had never been a fan of Muggle clothing, but now he saw the merit in a quick tug that would expose Potter's warm skin to Draco's questing hand. And the jeans cupping that amazing arse… fuck, Draco was getting hard.

"Haven't been touched in awhile, Potter?"

The Auror spun around angrily, obviously hoping to dislodge Draco's hand, but the movement backfired. Draco's palm stayed flat against Potter and ended up pressed into the flat abdomen instead. The green eyes widened, and Draco reflected that they were so much brighter and darker than Martinique's. He wondered if Potter's lenses made his eyes look so large and wild.

"I thought you did not wear glasses any longer," Draco commented, and the question seemed to diffuse whatever remark Potter had meant to make. The Auror glanced around, likely recalling that he was a famous spectacle. No one in the milling crowd paid him any mind, intent on attaining snacks and beverages, or relieving themselves before rushing back to the game.

"I wear them for public appearances," Potter said. "They're cosmetic."

Draco sneered, although he had not meant to. "The trials of celebrity," he drawled. His fingers itched to move down over Potter's waistband, but he knew such an action would get him hexed insensible.

Potter's eyes narrowed. "I don't find you at all amusing, Malfoy," he snapped. "Get your hand off me."

"You just don't know me, Potter," Draco replied softly. "I'm very amusing." His fingers traced lightly over Potter's shirt, wishing he could Vanish the material. It would be worth a hex or two.

"I don't want to know you, Malfoy. Now sod off."

With that, Potter left the queue and stomped off into the crowd. The Auror ignored Draco for the remainder of the World Cup, and disappeared with his family immediately thereafter.