Hi all. Just thought I'd post the little fic that was going through my head. I'm rating this M for the tiny bit of profanity, but there's no sex involved. Sorry. I know most of you Drarry readers want there to be sex (I know that's what I'm looking for in a Drarry fic *sigh*), but...well...it just didn't fit in to this one-shot. Yes, you read that correctly, this is a one-shot and I will NOT be adding to it. But there is a little bit of kissing...though, if you blink, you might miss it. Lol.
Checking on Malfoy
Harry stared back at the Minister for Magic, then shook his head. "Pardon. I don't think I heard you correctly. You want me to do...what?"
Kingsley pursed his lips and threaded his fingers together. "No, you heard me, Harry. I need you to check on Draco Malfoy. He's set up a used bookshop in Muggle London and, since he's still on probation, he needs to be visited. And it needs to happen today because he opens tomorrow."
Kingsley shrugged. "Because you know him."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, I know him, but...we're not at all friendly, Kingsley. This is a bad idea. There's got to be someone else," he said. Standing, Harry started to pace.
Kingsley shook his head. "No. I want you to do it. He knows you."
Stopping, Harry turned on the Minister. "Malfoy hates me, Kingsley! I can't do it."
"I'm not asking if you want to do this, Harry," Kingsley said sternly. "I'm ordering you to visit Mr. Malfoy and make sure his new Muggle business is on the up and up, then fill out the appropriate paperwork and have it filed."
Harry frowned. "Fine!" he snapped.
Turning, the dark-haired man stormed from Kingsley's office, slamming the door as he went, then stomped down the hallway to his own department and up to his desk, tossing his stack of files upon it when he arrived.
"Hey mate," Ron Weasley said cheerfully—then frowned up at his friend. "What's up?"
"Kingsley's ordered me to stop by Malfoy's new business and check up on him," Harry said as he dropped into his chair. "As if I wanna to see the bloody git! Doesn't he know we hate each other?! Merlin, this job sucks!"
Ron chuckled as he watched as Harry's head fell to his desk. "Everyone knows you two hate each other," he said.
Looking up, Harry narrowed his eyes. "What exactly are you implying, Ron?"
Rolling his eyes, Ron spoke—first to the ceiling. "Why am I the only one who sees these things?" he said—then looked at his best friend. "Harry. Mate. There's a fine line between love and hate."
For a moment, Harry frowned, but then it was like a light bulb lit up in his head. "Hey! Wait just a minute!" he burst. "If you're...are you suggesting that...I'm in love with Malfoy?!"
"I'm not suggesting anything, Harry," Ron said, standing up and coming around his desk. "But...you and Malfoy do seem to dance around one other. Have for as long as I can remember. And Harry...are you sure you're fighting this because you don't want to go see him or...because you do?"
Harry's face instantly flushed crimson, but he couldn't seem to think of a thing to say.
"Oh...and I didn't say anything about you being in love with him," the redhead said, shuddering in mock disgust. "Really, mate? After all these years?" He pulled a face. "I have no issue with you being gay, but...Malfoy? Gross." And then he snickered and walked out of their shared cubical.
As he walked down the street, Harry grumbled to himself. "Unbelievable, Kingsley! You're such a prick!" he said under his breath, glancing down at the paper he was holding, then up at the address on the building in front of him. And then he reached for the door handle, the bell over the door chiming as he entered.
"We're not open until tomorrow," came a voice from somewhere inside.
And then a body appeared, but the person didn't look in Harry's direction. Instead, he—presumably Malfoy—was walking away from Harry, his arms laden with flattened boxes.
Cocking his head to the side, Harry couldn't help where his eyes went—Malfoy's arse! The blond seemed to be dressed as a Muggle, including a Muggle t-shirt, ripped denims, and trainers, but...Harry couldn't see beyond the seat of Malfoy's pants. He looked...hot!
"Look buddy," the blond was saying as he walked out from the back room, brushing his hands on his jeans as he came into view, "I said we're not open until—" He stopped abruptly. "Fuck! What are you doing here, Potter?"
"I...ahh...I'm here to...ahh—"
"Eloquent as always," Draco said, rolling his angry gray eyes, then running a hand through his work-mussed hair. "Come on, Potter, spit it out. I don't have all day. Why are you here?"
Harry cleared his throat. "I've been tasked with checking on you and your business before it opens," Harry said quickly.
Draco scoffed. "Of course you have! Why'd it have to be you?" he spat as he went to a shelf and pretended to straighten the already perfect books.
"I don't like it any better than you do, Malfoy, so...let's just get this over with so that you can go about your business and I can go home and have a drink. This is, after all, my last stop of the day and I'd like to be done. Is there somewhere we could sit down and talk."
Shaking his head, Draco sighed, then stopped messing with his books.
"No?" Harry queried.
"No...I mean yes, of course there is. I was just... Look, Potter, I'm exhausted and you were the last person I expected to see today," Draco admitted. Then, stepping around the dark-haired man, he walked to the door and locked it, then turned and started for the back. "Right this way, Sir Chosen One."
"Don't call me that," Harry objected.
Draco snorted. "I have a small flat above the shop; we can go up there and sit down, so you can ask all your bloody questions, then be on your way."
For a moment, Harry just stared—at Malfoy's retreating arse!
"Coming, Potter?!" he called out as he disappeared through a doorway.
"Oh hell!" Harry cursed—then he followed the blond git.
"Tea?" Draco asked.
Stepping into Malfoy's lounge and looking around, Harry shrugged. "Sure. Tea's fine...unless you have something stronger."
"Aren't you on duty?"
Harry pushed up his sleeve and looked at his watch. "Was...until about five minutes ago. Took me a while to find your place."
"Hmm. Well, let's stick to tea until we're finished...that way you can't accuse me of liquoring you up to get a good review," Draco said, then started for the kitchen.
"Fine," Harry said, following.
"You want Spiced Mandarin Oolong or Earl Grey Black or...CocoCaramel Sea Salt Herbal?"
Harry blinked. "Um. Whatever," he said, waving a hand dismissively.
Draco snorted. Reaching for his kettle, he put the water on, then pulled out his preferred tea. "Herbal then," he said as he prepared their tea. "I like herbal at the end of the day."
Leaning against the countertop, Harry looked around. "Like I said, whatever is fine."
Draco rolled his eyes. "So, let's not waste time, Potter...you can get started with the interview while I make our tea."
"What made you want to open a shop in Muggle London, Malfoy?"
His hands halting, the blond looked up. "Is that an official question?"
Harry shrugged. "Just curious," he said. "And, like I said, I'm off work now, so I'm not going to do this in the usual manner."
Draco laughed—which was something Harry didn't think he'd ever seen before.
"Merlin, Potter, does Minister Shacklebolt know his prize Auror has a certain disregard for the rules?" the gray-eyed man asked.
"Don't care," Harry said—causing Draco to laugh again. "And Kingsley can stuff it if he doesn't like it."
"Okay then," Draco said, handing a cup of tea to the off-duty Auror, then starting for his lounge, where he sat down on his sofa, kicked off his shoes, and propped his socked feet up on the table in front of him. "All right, let's get through this so I can relax. I open tomorrow and I was hoping to be in bed by ten at the latest. And...I have other things to do after you leave, so...yeah. Let's get a move on."
"Looks like you're pretty relaxed already, Malfoy," Harry remarked, just standing there looking down at the blond—to which Draco glared up at him.
"Are you going to sit or what, Potter?"
Huffing, Harry sat down and took a drink of his tea. "Oh! It's hot."
Draco laughed. "Tea usually is," he said, taking a sip of his own. "Drink slowly, Potter."
Frowning, Harry followed the blond's instructions. "Mmm. This is good. Really good. What am I drinking again."
"CocoCaramel Sea Salt Herbal tea. Pay attention."
Draco frowned. "What's...interesting?"
"The flavor. I've never had anything like it."
"I'm not surprised, Potter. Most people just drink the boxed shite they find at the grocery. And you're...most people."
"What the fuck does that mean?!" Harry snapped, a scowl on his face.
Draco sighed. "Nothing, Potter. Just relax."
"Irritating the Auror on the scene isn't the best way to pass your interview and...stop calling me that."
Draco blinked. "You don't want me calling you by your name?"
"It's the way you say it, Malfoy...like I'm a disease."
"Hmm. Well, it's not like your use of my surname is any less annoying."
"Fine. Mr. Malfoy, can we get started?"
Draco frowned. "Would it kill you to use my given name?"
"I think it just might. But...if it would make you happy, then I'll try. Draco," he said, testing the other man's name on his tongue.
The blond smirked. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"
Harry huffed, but didn't respond otherwise.
"So, I can call you Harry then?" Draco asked.
"Hmm. I suppose."
"Excellent!" Draco said, then sipped his tea—then spoke again. "Are we going to do this or what, Harry? I'm tired."
Harry raised a brow. "Do what exactly?"
"This interview, you moron."
"Oh. Well, I don't actually have any formal questions," Harry said, ignoring Draco's snark. "I'm just supposed to visit and take a look around...make sure you're not up to any funny business."
"Like selling illegal potions in my used book store."
Harry shrugged. "There are illegal books too, you know," he said.
"All my father's illegal books were confiscated by the Ministry five years ago, Potter...you know that...Harry," he amended.
"So, why a Muggle shop...Draco?"
The blond shrugged. "No one knows me in Muggle London. It's safer for...me. And more peaceful here."
"It's true," Draco said. "And I like books. When I saw that the previous owner was selling the place, I bought it. It won't make me rich, but at least it's something that's mine."
"Won't make you rich? You're already rich."
"Well, yeah, but that's beside the point," said Draco. "I needed something to do and, like I said, I like books."
"You've read Muggle books?" Harry queried.
"Some. A lot, actually."
"More tea?" Draco asked, noticing that the dark-haired man had finished his.
"What? Oh. No, thank you," Harry said as he leaned forward and set his tea cup down on the table—his eyes going to Draco's socked feet, then to the pale piece of flesh that was showing where the man's pant leg had slid up. "Um. Well, it seems like things are fine here. I guess I don't need to take any more of your time, but you know I'll—"
And then a loud wail sounded.
"What's that?" Harry asked, startled, his attention averted from Draco's pale skin.
But Draco was on his feet and out of the room—then back quickly, holding a small, very unhappy bundle.
"Here. Hold my son while I make his bottle," the blond said as he laid the squalling baby in Harry's arms, then headed to the kitchen.
Shocked, Harry accepted the baby without question and stared at him; he looked like a tiny Malfoy. Well, he was a tiny Malfoy.
"You have a baby?" he asked dumbly, his eyes on Malfoy's whimpering son.
"Obviously." Frowning, Draco went on. "Mother said, in order to get my inheritance at the age of twenty-five, I had to marry and produce and heir. And so I did. Never mind that I'm gay as blazes," he said, clearly annoyed.
Harry's eyes widened. "You're gay?" he asked, then coughed and cleared his throat. "I mean...I don't have a problem with that or anything, I just...didn't know."
"You been living under a rock, Potter?" Draco asked. "I've only been on the front page of about every paper...including that stupid rag your friend's father owns."
Harry frowned. "The Quibbler?"
"Yeah. Lovegood wrote an article about the homosexual habits of Centaur and Abraxan. Separately, of course."
"Winged horses. You know, like the ones that pulled the carriages from Beauxbatons in our fourth year?"
Harry nodded. "Right. I remember," he said as he gently bounced the baby in his arms.
"So then she mentioned me and my proclivities at the end of her article. Suggested that I consort with the beasts. Bitch."
Harry laughed. "You think she was getting back at you for holding her hostage during the war."
Coming into the room with his son's bottle, Draco snorted. "No. Loony and I are actually friends. After the article, we got fairly close. I don't really think she's a bitch."
"But you call her Loony?" Harry asked as the other man lifted his son from his arms, sat down, and positioned him to be fed.
"To her face," Draco said with a smirk. "She thinks it's hilarious."
Harry smiled back, then looked at Malfoy's baby. "What's his name?"
Harry laughed. "Of course it is."
"Mother actually suggested it and...well, I wasn't in any condition to object at the time."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked with a frown.
"Scorpius' mother died shortly after he was born and I...wasn't ready to be a father. Not by myself, at least. Mother cared for him for a while, but then she got fed up with me and...just left him here with me. Said she was too old to be raising babies, that I had to get my shite together, so I could take care of my own bloody son. Well, she didn't say it in those words, but...that's what she meant. That was about four months ago."
Leaning forward, Harry gazed down at the suckling baby, then reached out and touched the sprinkling of white-blond hair on the top of his head. For a brief moment the baby stopped sucking and stared up at Harry, then he went back to his meal.
"How old is he?"
Draco grinned proudly. "I know, right?"
Harry laughed. "Who's his mother, if you don't mind my asking?"
Draco shook his head. "I don't mind at all. The parents married me off to Astoria Greengrass...you know, Daphne Greengrass' younger sister. Apparently it had been arranged for years, but I didn't know. In the meantime, I was busy fucking every Tom, Dick, and Harry—" Draco stopped abruptly, his face turning bright red. "Er...well, you know what I mean. Anyway, it was arranged by both our parents."
Harry laughed. "Well, not every Harry, apparently, but...I see."
"So, I married her and we had a baby, but now she's gone and I'm doing this alone." He nodded down at is son.
"Are they going to make you get married again?" Harry asked.
"What? Oh. No. I did what was required and now I'm free, so to speak. Mother's fine with my being gay. Father's not thrilled about it, but he's not fighting it anymore. Astoria knew too. She even agreed to me having someone on the side, as long as I kept it discreet. She didn't want me to embarrass her, you see."
Harry nodded. "I can understand that. And so, did you...have someone on the side?"
Draco shook his head. "No. It all happened so quickly. I'd broken up with the guy I was dating, because he couldn't deal with me getting married. Then I was married and she got pregnant fairly quickly. We were wrapped up in that. Her pregnancy was wickedly awful from day one. Then she had Scorpius and, within a week, she was dead."
Draco shrugged. "I didn't love her. I mean, it's awful that she died, but..." He shrugged again. "I'm a horrible person, aren't I?"
"It's no secret that I've always thought you were a complete git, but...I don't think you're horrible, per se. What I do think is horrible is your parents forcing their gay son to get married and have a baby in order to inherit what should rightfully be his. It's just...barbaric."
"It's part of being a pure-blood, Harry," Draco explained. "I don't expect you to understand, but that's the way it is. And it wasn't that horrible. At least I got Scorpius out of it. I guess I have to love her for that, right?"
Harry tried to smile, but it was hard. The thought of being forced to be with a woman when you weren't interested in them that way seemed...dreadful.
"I'm gay too," he blurted.
The blond grinned. "I know that, Potter. Everyone knows that. I remember reading that article in the Daily Prophet right after the war. You know, the one with the picture of Weaselette sobbing?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Ginny already knew. She's the one who said I shouldn't hide it. And that picture of her crying was from something else." Harry paused. "Fred's funeral. The Prophet is always fucking that shite up."
"Oh. Hmm. Anyway, just so you know, it was your coming out that gave me the courage to tell my parents about myself."
Draco nodded. "Not that it helped. Mother started to cry and wouldn't come out of her rooms for about a month. And Father about hit the ceiling. He ranted for about a month, then informed me I was betrothed and would marry Astoria before I was twenty-five. I put it off for quite a while, then finally broke down and obeyed."
"I thought you said your mum was fine with it."
"Not in the beginning, she wasn't," Draco said. "But things are different now. She just wants me to be happy."
"How very novel."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't be like that. She got over herself eventually."
"But...you're still not dating anyone?" Harry asked.
"Who's had time? I've had Scorpius to take care of," he said, nodding down at his now dozing son, "and now I've got the shop."
"But you would go out on a date...if someone were to ask?"
Draco shrugged. "I guess. If it was child-friendly or I had someone to watch him. He's a good baby, but maybe not date material."
Harry grinned. "Would you like to go out to dinner then?"
Draco frowned. "Potter, I just said I would if—"
"Stop. You misunderstand," Harry interrupted. Reaching out and placing a hand on Draco's thigh, he looked into the blond's confused gray eyes. "I'm not asking if you'd go out if you could, I'm asking if you'd like go out with me...on a date."
The quiet noise that came out of Draco's mouth was something between a cough and a laugh, but it made Harry smile.
"You...you're asking me out? Me? Draco Malfoy? Your long-time rival?"
Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I guess I am."
Draco frowned. "What's the catch? Are you not going to pass me on this interrogation if I say no?"
Harry felt like he should be insulted, but he couldn't find it in himself to be...not in the least. "I'm passing you either way, Draco; seems like you're doing fine for yourself and your son. Nor do you seem to be up to anything. If you don't want to go out with me, then just say so. It's fine. I'll be disappointed, but it's not the end of the world. And I would never use my position to manipulate someone. Never."
"Maybe I should go," Harry said, standing up.
"Wait. Can you wait for a moment while I put him down?" Draco asked, getting up as well.
Glancing at the sleeping seven-month-old, Harry nodded. "Of course."
Smiling, Draco turned and hurried out of the room, deposited Scorpius into his cot, and, making sure the child was still asleep, went back out to face Harry Potter. When he walked back into the room, Harry was facing away from him, shifting from one foot to the other while looking at a painting on the far wall.
"My grandmother painted that," he said.
"It's very nice," said Harry, without looking away from the piece of artwork.
"Did you really mean it?" Draco asked. "That you want to take me out."
Turning, Harry approached slowly, but stopped when he was about half a meter in front of the other man. "I meant it, but," he said quietly, "you obviously feel pressured."
Draco shook his head. "No. I don't. I'm just...this doesn't happen to me very often, Potter."
Draco smiled. "Harry," he corrected, reaching a tentative hand out to touch Harry's shirt, then pulling it back before actually touching it.
Feeling semi less nervous, Harry took the blond by the waist and pulled him forward, so that they were a hair's breadth apart. "I'm going to kiss you in a second, so...now would be a good time to step back if you don't want me to."
"I...I want you to," Draco whispered, "to kiss me, I mean."
For another second, Harry searched Draco's eyes, then he looked at the man's mouth instead and leaned in, capturing Draco's lips and devouring them.
And then they found themselves on the sofa, snogging like a couple of teenagers—and really enjoying it.
Until they were interrupted by a loud CRACK! and a clearing throat.
Startled apart, both Draco and Harry fell to the floor, then struggled to get up. They struggled, because their legs and arms were completely tangled around one another.
"Mother! How many times have I asked you not to just Apparate directly into my house?"
"Humph! Too many times to count, darling," Narcissa Malfoy said as she watched her son work to straighten himself out. Then her eyes fell on the man beside him. "Mr. Potter. How very lovely to see you, dear. How have you been?"
"I'm...ahh...fine, Mrs. Malfoy," he said. "You?"
"I'm well, thank you," Narcissa said, then pursed her lips and looked at her son. "And why didn't you tell me you were dating Mr. Potter, darling?"
"Um. Well, it sort of just happened, Mother."
"Interesting," she said as she glanced around. "And how is my grandson?"
"Scorpius is fine. He fell asleep while feeding, so I put him back down. I'm sure he'll be up again soon."
"Hmm. I think I hear him. Why don't you go get him, Dragon?" she suggested, waving her hand dismissively.
Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at Harry—who seemed perfectly fine—then hurried to get his son.
"So, Mr. Potter," Narcissa started as soon as Draco was out of the room, "you're dating my son?"
Harry nodded. "If he will have me."
"I didn't know you two were friends."
"We weren't, but...things change," Harry said, shrugging.
"He's a good boy, Mr. Potter...I won't allow you to hurt him."
"I have no intention of hurting him, Mrs. Malfoy."
She smiled. "Well, good then," she said, then turned when her son and grandson came into the room. "Oh, how are my beautiful boys?" she cooed, reaching out and plucking Scorpius from his father, then kissing him until he giggled.
Draco couldn't help but smile. "We're fine, Mother. But again I will ask you to message me prior to coming over and to not just pop into the house...just in case."
Narcissa smiled. "Fine. I suppose neither of us would like me to see whatever it is you boys get up to behind closed doors."
Draco sighed with relief. "Exactly."
"Anyway, I was just popping over to verify that you still wanted me here tomorrow...for the grand reopening. I'll stay upstairs with Scorpius while you run your little shop," she offered happily.
Draco nodded. "Yes, Mother, if you'd like to stay with Scorpius, that would be all right."
Narcissa smiled and clapped her hands once. "Splendid, darling. All right," she said, handing Scorpius back to his father, "I'll see you at seven o'clock sharp."
"Thank you, Mother."
"You're welcome and...congratulations to you both," she said, looking from her son to his chosen man. "I have to say that you two make a lovely couple."
Harry grinned, as did Draco.
"Good night, Mr. Potter...Dragon," she said, kissing her son's cheek, then Apparating away.
"Wow! So much for privacy," Draco complained. "Sorry about Mother, Potter. She can be quite intrusive at times."
Harry chuckled. "Who needs privacy...Dragon?" he asked as he leaned in and kissed the man he was already growing to love. Well, maybe love wasn't the right word. Not yet. But they'd get there.
Thank you for reading!