Work Text:
Potter,
Meet me in the covered archway behind the service gates at 2.07. Tell no one.
Malfoy
The delivery owl cocked its head and fixed Harry with a stare. A tailfeather twitched towards the packet of chocolate buttons.
“They’ll make you sick” said Harry. Another twitch of the tail. “I’ll get in trouble” he pointed to the laminated piece of parchment fixed to his office door.
“Do not feed the owls” it read in glowing red letters. As if aware that it was about to be flouted, the parchment began to smoke at the edges. The smell of singed plastic filled Harry’s office.
The owl’s tailfeather twitched a final time and, sighing, Harry chose one of the smaller treats, holding it out in the centre of his palm. As soon as the owl’s beak touched the treat a siren sounded.
“An overfed owl is an overdue owl” a disembodied voice cried. “The owls have a carefully balanced diet, calibrated to deliver maximum nutritional value without hindering their ability to fly. An overfed owl is an overdue owl.” The announcement was on a seventh repetition, the owl long gone, when Ron appeared, fingers in his ears.
“Alright?” he yelled. Harry grimaced and gave him a thumbs up. “Tea?” Ron mimed. Harry glanced at his half composed reply ( Draco, wasn’t clear from your note if we’re meeting to dump a body or launch a military coup. Please advise. Harry ), the announcement increased in volume. Tea was probably a good idea.
***
Draco was in the staff room when they arrived, scowling at a pot of gently steaming mulch.
“Alright Draco?” Ron asked, squeezing in next to him and poking his wand at the kettle.
“Ronald” said Draco. He gave them both a nod but didn’t look up, eyes still fixed on the teapot.
Ron did a double take and then slowly pivoted towards Harry. “Ronald?” he mouthed.
“He’s scheming” said Harry
“Scheming?”
“Code names” Harry tapped the side of his nose, grinning at Ron. “At least you still get a first name” he continued, leaning back against the counter. “I’m back to Potter.” A huff sounded to his left and Harry turned to realise that the bit of counter he was leaning against was actually rather close to Draco. Right next to him, in fact.
“I always call you Potter” said Draco, carefully tapping some more bits of what looked like shredded bark into his teapot and giving it a vicious stir.
“S’got a point” Ron was rummaging in the biscuit tin, mouth already full. “Washup Drwaco? You normally” he paused to swallow “love a good scheme.”
“Not today” said Draco, turning his back to the counter and leaning next to Harry. Harry gave him a nudge. A friendly nudge. The nudge of a concerned co-worker. Draco sighed at the floor. “It’s Adonis” he said, grey eyes bleak. Harry felt something spiky lodge in his throat.
“Oh?” he said, swallowing against the spike, “new boyfriend?”
Ron choked on a mouthful of biscuit.
“My owl” said Draco. “They’re off their food, Smith’s gone too far with this diet nonsense.”
“Your owl is called Adonis?”
“Your owl’s a “they”?”
“Yes, Ronald” said Draco, ignoring Harry’s question. “The owlery were unable to ascertain Adonis’ sex and I saw little reason to interfere with them.”
“You didn’t want to interfere with your owl?”
“No.”
“Well that’s” Harry paused, floundered. “That’s very noble of you, Draco.”
Draco snorted, turning back to his pot of gunk. “Indeed” he said “the noble act of declining to inspect an owls genitals, we’ll have to put that one on the family crest.”
“So what’s up with Adonis?” asked Ron, his shoulders shaking.
“Smith’s idiot diet has made all the owls self-conscious, Adonis hasn’t touched their treats in a week.”
“Are you sure Adonis knows about the diet?” Apparently this was yet another question of Harry’s that didn’t deserve an answer. Instead Draco finished messing around with his pint of sludge and poured two cups. It took a long time for the liquid to exit the spout.
“None of this explains why I’m still Ronald.” Ron had finished with the kettle and was brewing two mugs of treacle thick builders tea.
“Ronald is your name, non?” said Draco.
Ron whistled. “I think you might be right, mate” he said to Harry. “He always gets extra French when there’s scheming afoot.”
This time Draco laughed properly. Not the worst laugh, thought Harry, tamping down a surge of annoyance.
“Aye ‘av non idyah vot you ahrr mening” said Draco, starting the sentence as Fleur Weasley and finishing on a passable imitation of Viktor Krum. Ron slid the second cup he’d made towards Harry, lining it up with the cup of sludge Draco had pushed towards him.
“It’s the cake rota” said Harry, moving away from the counter. And the mugs. “Draco’s still working on getting us out of it. Obviously that needs code names.”
“Right” said Ron, nudging the cup of tea he’d made towards Harry. Draco slid the Draco tea forward, too. “Why not just make some cakes?” Ron nudged the Ron tea again, nearly sliding it off the edge of the counter. With a sigh, Harry picked up both mugs.
“Because Zach hates me and Draco hates Zach” he took a sip from the Draco tea and followed it up with a slug of the Ron tea. Not the worst combination, he thought. Ron and Draco were staring at him.
“Smith doesn’t hate you, he longs for you” said Draco, a mixture of disgust and concern on his face. “I do hate Smith, however. Poisonous little toad, my poor Adonis.” Draco gazed mournfully down at his cup and Harry wavered over mentioning Adonis’ earlier snacking. Then his attention snagged on the first bit of Draco’s sentence.
“Zach doesn’t fancy me.”
“Oh mate” Ron gave Harry’s shoulders a sympathetic squeeze, heading towards the door.
“He doesn’t!” Harry called after him. “He keeps sending me snide notes about not letting everyone down. Why would you send someone shitty notes if you like them?” Harry blinked, realising that last question had been rather pointedly addressed to Draco. Draco blinked back, a flush creeping up his neck. Ron paused at the door, turned back around.
“What happens if you don’t do it?” he asked. “The cakes.”
Harry paused to consider the terrifying fact that they (still) hadn’t actually baked anything and the last person to welsh on the cake rota ended up sharing an office with Mangus Hoardfeather for 18 months. Mangus was known for flossing at his desk. Draco was looking rather pale and Harry knew he was also considering a life lived in close proximity to Mangus.
“It’s alright” said Harry, deciding to ignore Ron’s question, “Draco has a plan to get us out of it.”
“Oh?” said Ron, leaning against the doorframe. “What’s the plan, Draconian?”
“One” Draco raised a slender finger “my full name is Draco. Not Draconian.” He moved forward to poke the finger at Ron’s chest. Ron caught the finger mid-poke and held it, grinning down at Draco. Harry fought the urge to insert one of his own fingers into Ron’s left eye socket.
“And two” Draco extracted his finger from Ron’s grip and turned to poke it into Harry’s chest instead. “There is no plan. I merely asked you, as a colleague, to meet me in a discreet manner” (poke poke) “ at a discreet location without” (poke poke poke) “alerting the entire Ministry.”
Harry grinned, reaching up to catch the finger but Draco was a fast learner and had already turned back to his tea.
“Think you can do that, Harry?” Ron asked, looking far too knowing for someone drinking from a mug with a slowly stripping Gilderoy Lockhart on the front.
“Of course” said Harry, finishing both mugs of tea and dumping them in the sink. “Auror stealth training.” He turned to find Ron and Draco sharing one of those eyerolls they’d started doing behind Harry’s back.
Before Harry can point out that they were both, actually, complete nobbers, Zacharias Smith oozed in, clipboard in hand.
“Harry! Oh excellent timing. All set for the Inter Departmental Monthly Meeting today?”
“Er...” said Harry, glancing at Draco.
“Excellent” beamed Zacharias. “Such an honour to have the Choosen One bake for us”.
“Er...” said Harry.
“Yes, such an honour” said Draco, slinking around into Zacharias’ eyeline. Zacharias twitched.
“And what will you be making, Harry?” Zacharias lifted his clipboard a few inches, effectively blocking Draco. Draco compensated by inching closer to Harry, peering around the clipboard at Zacharias.
“Potter and I will be providing flapjacks, miniature swiss rolls, and maybe even some rice crispy cakes”.
What. The. Fuck.
“Right, right, good, good” said Zacharias, taking extensive notes, eyes fixed on Harry, clipboard still raised in an attempt to hide Draco. “And how many of each? We don’t want a repeat of the scrum over Daphne’s rock cakes.”
“Er...” Harry looked to Draco again. Desperately trying to communicate via a scrunch of his eyebrows that Draco’s plan to get them out of baking cakes should probably not involve promising to bake a million fucking cakes.
“20 of the flapjacks, 20 swiss rolls, and oh... 25 crispy cakes? Isn’t that right, Potter?” Draco nudged Harry and Harry found himself nodding.
Zacharias flicked over to his second page of notes, still staring at Harry. His eye twitched. Again.
“And they will be ready before 2.30pm?”
Harry realised that his head nodding had crossed with head shaking and he was now rotating his head in a brisk manner. He forced himself to stop as Draco purred “absolutely”.
“Is that right, Harry?” Zacharias probed, leaning closer and dropping his voice “If you need another week I’m sure the cake committee will understand.”
“Er... that might be quite good” said Harry. When the fuck had the office ended up with a cake committee? And why weren’t they baking the fucking cakes? “For Draco too, right? The extension?”
“Oh I’m afraid not” said Zacharias, smiling with all his teeth. “We still need to consider today’s meeting and Mr Malfoy is yet to contribute to the cake rota.”
“Yeah but neither has Harry” said Ron.
“Harry is a very busy, very important man and...”
“So’s Draco!” said Harry.
“It’s fine” said Draco.
“No it’s not! You’re a Department Head as well. If I’m too busy to do the cakes this week then so are you.”
“I’m afraid that we only make exceptions in the most... ah... exceptional of circumstances” said Zacharias, still not looking at Draco. And that was just rude.
“Fine” said Harry. “We’ll both do it. See you at 2.30.”
“There really is no need, Potter” said Draco, dropping his voice and moving into Harry’s sightline.
“No there really is” Harry insisted. “We’re both on the fucking rota and so we’re fucking making these fucking cakes fuck!” He realised, too late, that he was shouting and the other three were staring at him. “Sorry” he huffed, rubbing his hands through his hair. “It’s just a lot of cakes” he glared at Draco “but we’ll do it, together”.
***
“So what’s the plan?” They were standing under the service entrance archway at (exactly) 2.07. It was raining and Harry’s Umbrella Charm was requiring more concentration than usual. A large puddle from the street was spreading under the arch, into his trainers, and Harry was trying not to take as a giant metaphour for... just... life.
“Keep your voice down” said Draco, glancing around as if Zacharias Smith was going to slink out from behind the recycling bins. “Here” he reached forward, taking Harry’s hand. “On three. One. Two. Th...”
“Hold on” said Harry, raising his free hand (no need to let go of Draco’s hand if they were going to be Apparating soon). “Where are we going, what are we doing, and how the fuck are we going to get 65 cakes in 20 minutes?”
Draco sighed, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Mother did always say to never scheme with animals or Gryffindors.” Harry let Draco have his little moment before giving him a shake where their hands were linked.
“Well?”
Sighing again, Draco opened his eyes and beckoned Harry even closer. The air between them was heating up and the rain made the archway feel a lot more private than it normally would.
“We” said Draco, gazing into Harry’s eyes, “are going to Tesco.”
“What?”
“It’s a Muggle shop. They sell food.”
“I know what Tesco is, Draco.”
“You seem confused.”
“That’s your plan?”
“Yes, they sell cakes” Draco gave Harry an encouraging smile.
“But you said we couldn’t buy the cakes because people would recognise us and Zach would find out.”
“I said we couldn’t buy them in a magical bakery, Muggle bakeries are fine.”
“Are they though? How do you even know what Tesco is?”
Draco stepped back, dropping Harry’s hand.
“There’s one near my house. I am allowed to go to Tesco, Potter.”
“Yes I know you are” Harry stepped forward, reaching for Draco’s hand again. “I’m just surprised that you’re interested in Muggle things.”
“I did the program” Draco’s voice had risen and his smile was gone. “I lived with Muggles, I know what Tesco is.”
“Alright!” said Harry, keeping a firm grip on Draco’s wriggling hand. “Alright. Let’s get our scheme on.”
***
The Cavendish Street Tesco was rammed. In retrospect, Harry mused as he was buffeted by harassed office workers, panic-buying at 2.30pm on a weekday might not be one of Draco’s best plans. He then remembered most of their 5th year at Hogwarts and decided that, comparatively, it was quite good.
At least there was little chance of them being noticed by someone from the magical community. Or by the security guards, who were unlikely to be impressed by Draco’s light-fingers. Grapes, strawberries, even one of those mini dipping cucumbers, all disappeared into Draco’s mouth as he marched towards the back of the shop.
Harry gave up grimacing and shrugging at the people he bumped into (Londoners generally tend to find eye-contact, even of the apologetic variety, far more alarming than bodily assault). Looking up, he realised that Draco had disappeared and Harry felt unease roar to life in his chest. The fluorescent lights above him flickered and the beeping of the self-service machines faded.
Leaning against the magazine rack, taking a few deep breaths, Harry concentrated on the furry, curled corners of the nearest Take A Break magazine. Why would someone read a magazine in such a cramped place, he wondered. It wasn’t even like the magazines were near the line for the tills and...
“Potter!” Draco’s voice was very loud, like he didn’t realise that his mouth was only inches away from Harry’s face. And when had that happened? “Harry” Draco said, placing a hand on Harry’s forearm, “I understand your fascination with this women’s unfortunate proclivities” he nodded to the magazine Harry had been examining. I Married A Jaffa Cake was the top headline. “However Doris Crockford appears to have followed us and...”
“What?”
“A tracking charm, Potter” Draco tugged Harry away from the magazine rack, towards the bakery section. “Apparently Zacharias found your reliance on one syllable grunts less than reassuring and has asked Doris to follow us.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I can’t be sure but I think that his atrocious personality might be at the root of the issue.” Draco glanced over his shoulder, pulling Harry past the cake stand and into the toiletries aisle.
“Did she see you?” Harry’s breathing had returned to normal but the lights were too bright and Draco wasn’t making any sense.
“I don’t think so” said Draco, pausing to peer around the BOGOF promotions stand. “She was staring at the oh fuck...” He retreated, shoving Harry into a wall of shampoo.
“Wha...”
“She’s coming this way” Draco hissed, sending a panicked look back down the aisle before giving up on the idea of retreat and crowding in next to Harry. Caught between a display stand of toilet paper and a wall of Herbal Essence they were as concealed as two moderately handsome, moderately young, wizards could hope to be in a tiny shop that was lit like a football pitch and contained half of London’s workforce.
Inching closer to Draco, Harry took a turn peering around the teetering tower of toilet paper and saw that Doris Crockford, acting Head of the Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee and one of the cake rotas most loyal adherents, was heading their way.
The memory of the dressing down Doris gave Angelica Johnson for trying to pass an M&S fruitcake off as homemade at the May meeting still sent Harry into a cold sweat.
“Fuck” he hissed, turning back to Draco. “She’s going to tell Zach, so much for Muggle shops being safe. What now?”
“I don’t know! Can’t you just” Draco made a windmill gesture that could encompass anything from Apparate us out of here to fake your own death.
“No I can’t just” Harry tried to mimic Draco’s gesture but gave up halfway through and turned it into a two finger salute.
“Charming” said Draco, peering around Harry. “Such a thrill to see all that Auror Stealth Training in action.”
“Fuck off” Harry transformed a laugh into a cough. “Do you want to Apparate out of here and try another Tesco?”
“No point if she found us here there must be a tracking charm on us. Plus, you know...” Draco did another windmill, “Muggles”.
“Right.”
They looked at each other for a few seconds. Harry’s mind was cycling through every cover story he’d ever used, while simultaneously noticing that Draco’s stubble was gold, rather than white like his hair. He assume Draco’s mind was working along similar lines but before Harry could verify this Draco took a deep breath, and kissed him.
One hand on Harry’s cheek and the other braced against the shampoo, Draco pressed forward, knocking a few more bottles down. Harry pushed back, not really sure what was happening but Draco’s tongue really was very insistent and it wasn’t the worst idea.
Something bigger than a bottle fell off the shelf, ruffling Harry’s hair on the way down, and drew attention to the fact that in addition to the kissing they seemed to be rocking. Draco’s hand were tugging at the bottom of Harry’s shirt and Harry was just about to Apparate them out of there, fuck the Statute of Secrecy, when Draco pulled away with a gasp.
Draco’s face was flushed and his eyes were unfocused. As Harry watched, doubt flickered across Draco's face and he began to pull away.
"Where are you..." Harry trailed off, looking down to see his fingers losing their grip on the edge of Draco's jumper. Draco coughed, smoothing his hair and glancing up and down the aisle.
"She must have... ha... Um. Doris must have missed us. Good distraction technique, I'd love to know how often the Auror department uses it."
"What?"
"The, ah. The kissing, so Doris wouldn't notice us. Or. If she... if she did notice us then we could tell her we were here for... um..."
"What are you talking about?"
Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times, glancing back down the aisle. "I could have sworn that Doris-"
"You kissed me" said Harry, taking a step towards Draco and frantically hoping that he wasn't reading this wrong.
"Yes. I..." Draco's voice faded away as Harry took another step forward, crowding him against the shelf. A few more bottles hit the floor and the smell of Vanilla Meadows Spring Faun Bubbles filled the air.
Harry reached up to cup Draco's face, ran a thumb over Draco's lip. Fuck. If he'd got this wrong it was going to be painful. Beyond painful. He'd have to go into hiding for at least a few years, maybe a decade. Even that wouldn't be enough as Draco would probably just get fitter in his 40s so Harry would have to wait it out until-
As if sensing that Harry's thoughts were spiraling away from him, Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry's. Soft and tentative, more of a question than a kiss. Harry answered him, pressing forward and reaching to angle Draco's face, a thumb stroking back and forth across Draco's cheek. They kissed long and slow, lips pressing and tongues sliding across each other until Harry felt like he was either going to explode or expire with the sweetness of it. Even more bottles fell and split around them, sending up clouds of artificially scent, so pervasive that Harry started to taste it.
"This is no good" he sighed, pulling back but holding Draco close. "I want to be able to..." he caught himself before telling Draco that he wanted to taste him. "I want this but somewhere-"
"Yes, good, me too." Draco was back to looking dazed and it was such a good look on him that Harry stole another kiss. And another. Soft presses against Draco's lips that made Harry's nerves spark and his breath come even quicker.
"Come on" he dragged himself away, towing Draco towards the exit.
"Wait. Potter, wait." Draco tugged on his hand, forcing Harry to come to a halt. Which was just no good because Harry needed to kiss Draco again. "I know" Draco pulled Harry towards him, pressing their foreheads together. "I know" he whispered, drawing a deep breath. "But we can't we-"
"Why?" Harry demanded, shifting back to meet Draco's eyes. "That wasn't for Doris, that kiss was us and I know you want this too and-"
"Potter" Draco raised a hand and Harry felt his heart contracted. "We will, we will" Draco ducked his head to kiss the underside of Harry's jaw before darting away, slithering past a red-faced teenager who appeared to have mistaken Harry and Draco's frantic kissing and heavy breathing for the queue.
Harry shoved both hands into his hair, glaring at the teenager and peering down the aisle after Draco. Shoppers pushed past him, juggling packets of Monster Munch and reduced ham sandwiches. Harry unhanded his own hair and made up his mind to follow Draco back into the store when a hand appeared above the sea of heads. The hand was clutching a box of mini rice crispy cakes and, as Draco fought his way back up the aisle, Harry had never seen anything so beautiful.