Chapter Text
Draco wasn’t often summoned to the editor-in-chief’s office, but he wasn’t worried as he sauntered up to her secretary and gave her a cheeky smile.
“Chief summoned me, Carlotta.”
“Yes, she told me to send you right in,” Carlotta replied, giving him a wink as she waved her wand.
The door to the chief’s office opened and Draco gave her a quick salute before heading through it. As the door closed behind him, he was struck by the thick silence. The Daily Prophet headquarters was a tall, spindly building with twisted staircases going in every direction with small offices perched off of them like little nests. It was noisy and bustling with buzzing energy thrumming through it, and Draco thrived on it. Up here, however, he could almost see the entire building and yet felt none of its chaos.
“Come here, Draco,” Vanessa called from her long, curvaceous desk. She was a stylish, middle-aged woman with a strangely calm demeanor for one in charge of the premier newspaper company of Britain’s Wizarding World. The longer Draco worked for her, however, the more certain he was that her personality was perfect for her position. She was a strong, immovable center to her universe of wild reporters.
“You wanted to see me?” he asked politely as he sat in the seat in front of her.
She hummed affirmatively as she finished writing something and then flicked her quill out of her fingers. It flew to the other end of the desk and dipped neatly into its holder. She smiled with full, pouty lips that were as red as her hair. Not Weasley red, but a shade more fiery and less natural, though Draco would never suggest that it wasn’t.
“Well done on your last assignment,” she purred. Sitting back in her seat, she rested her chin lightly on her fingers as she gazed at him thoughtfully. “I knew it was a gamble, assigning you to a rumored poaching ring, but to think you actually found it before the Aurors did!”
She threw her head back with a tinkling laugh.
Draco couldn’t hold back a smug grin. “The Aurors are so bogged down by bureaucratic red tape, it’s a wonder they get anything done.”
“Agreed. It’s like they didn’t learn anything from pre-war policies. Oh, well, hopefully, this’ll be the wake-up call they need. So,” she said, leaning toward him with a gleam in her eye, “ready for your next assignment?”
While butterflies fluttered wildly in his stomach, Draco’s expression remained calm and eager as he leaned forward. “You have no idea.”
“Hmmm, you might not like it,” she warned without the smile fading from her lips.
“Why would you think that? I doubt you’d give me anything that isn’t a challenge.”
“It is a challenge, but I’m afraid you’ll think it’s beneath you. While the topics you’ve covered thus far are important, it’s not the type of information our readers are craving. What they want…” she paused for an unnaturally long moment, prolonging Draco’s suspense, “is Harry Potter.”
Draco’s shoulders slumped as he scrunched his face in disgust. “Nooooooo.”
“Yes. Currently, Potter has been on some sort of dating spree,” she continued casually as if she wasn’t ruining Draco’s entire day, “and we want all the juicy details. From now on, you’re on Potter detail and I want to know everything. What his date’s wearing, their expressions, level of sexual tension, and bits of conversation if you can manage to hear it. Even better if you can get his date’s name and information. Here’s what we have so far,” she said, summoning a folder with her wand.
Draco reluctantly took it from her and opened it. Most of it was scribbled notes on napkins, tips from eyewitnesses, and no photographs. Practically nothing. He sighed and glanced back at Vanessa.
“Why is he dating so many people all of a sudden?”
“No one knows!” she exclaimed with the anticipatory excitement of a child waiting to open a present. “If you can find out, Draco, you may be up for reporter of the year.”
Merlin, I want that title, he thought, looking back down at the file before Vanessa could see his obvious hunger. It wasn’t an ideal assignment, however. If it was some other celebrity, he wouldn’t have any hang-ups about following them around and being nosy on their dates, but this was Potter.
“It might be complicated,” he said, meeting her gaze. “It’s not like any of the other reporters; he knows me. I wouldn’t be able to hide my presence from him as easily.”
Vanessa shrugged. “So don’t. I’m very aware of the relationship you two have and I want you to use that to your advantage. Potter is polite and standoffish to anyone he doesn’t know, and he’s grown more and more wary of what he says to members of the press. I think seeing you, of all people, will catch him off-guard. Rile him up a little, Draco, and listen carefully,” she finished in a whisper. The smirk on her lips was pure sin, and Draco mirrored the expression easily. He didn’t need to look up her records to know she was a Slytherin when she was at Hogwarts; he could always spot one of his own.
“I’ll get the info we need,” Draco said, standing up. “I’ll get it all.”
“Good boy.”
—
The nice thing about working for the Prophet was that their informants were everywhere. Draco had been busy after his meeting with Vanessa going over what information there was about Potter’s previous dates when a shout came from below.
“Potter sighting!”
Draco grabbed his bag and his coat and apparated down to the main floor. Since it was his assignment, he shooed all the other writers away and made his way to Howard, the one who’d yelled.
“Got something for me?” he asked, and Howard gave him a toothy grin.
“Yup. Just got a tip that Potter was spotted at a cozy little restaurant in Diagon Alley.”
He handed Draco a slip of paper that had the name of the restaurant and a couple other notes about what Potter and his date were wearing to make them easier to spot. Draco scoffed to himself.
As if I’d have trouble finding him.
“Thanks, Howard.”
“Righto. Leavin’ it to you, Drake.”
Wrinkling his nose at the nickname, Draco apparated to a side street in Diagon Alley. Folding up his coat collar, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and slipped out into the busy streets, looking for the restaurant in question. He was familiar with it, though it wasn’t quite up to his standards. Either Potter wasn’t trying to impress his date, or that really was his idea of a fancy place. Draco smirked, certain it was the latter.
Once he reached the restaurant, Draco walked by it slowly, trying to blend in with the crowds on the street. He spotted Potter easily at a table further in, talking to a young woman with long, dark hair that was so straight and perfect, Draco wondered if it would even move if he flicked a finger at it. Now that he had their positions, his next order of business was to find a spot to observe them without being seen. It was inconvenient that the place was in Diagon Alley, given the narrow streets that curved around. With very few spots to hide, Draco chose to slip behind some barrels stacked across the street.
He pulled out his quick quill and a clean sheet of parchment, allowing the quill to take notes for him as he murmured to it. He described the restaurant and went into better detail on what the couple was wearing. Potter was wearing dark muggle jeans and an expensive looking dark green sweater. Draco couldn’t tell from where he was, but he knew that it probably brought out his beautiful eyes.
Shaking his head, he nipped that line of thought in the bud and focused on Potter’s demeanor, as well as his date’s. The woman was obviously flirting, bobbing her foot under the table to accidentally graze Potter’s leg. Whenever it happened, Potter simply moved his leg out of the way.
While Draco couldn’t hear what was being said, it was obvious that the conversation was stilted. Potter was doing his best to maintain a polite smile, but it slipped often whenever she spoke. When it was his turn to respond, Potter gestured toward his date as he spoke and whatever he said, it seemed to frazzle her.
Needless to say, it wasn’t going well. Draco chuckled with glee as he narrated the scene to his quick quill. It shouldn’t have given him so much joy to see Potter failing on his date. No, that wasn’t quite right. Anyone who knew him would have expected him to enjoy Potter failing at anything. The real reason why, however, was something private and uncomfortable, a secret he held in his heart for an embarrassing number of years. How could he enjoy seeing Potter on a date when all he really wants is to be the one beside him?
He wasn’t sure when he fell in love with Potter. Sometime between fourth or fifth year he began realizing just how far gone he was but by then, it was too late to turn it all around. At least by heckling him, he could still get Potter’s attention.
One time in fifth year, he stayed behind in potions to ask Snape for some advice on his OWL’s. After answering his questions, Snape regarded him carefully.
You’ve been distracted lately. Is there something troubling you, he asked Draco.
It was so shocking that he’d been concerned, Draco blurted out, Have you ever been in love with someone who would never love you back?
Draco immediately felt foolish for asking him such a thing. It was inconceivable that Snape of all people would ever be in love with someone, but when the silence stretched a little long, Draco turned back to Snape. His face was devoid of color, even more so than usual, and his dark eyes looked haunted.
Yes.
You have? It… It didn’t end well?
Snape swallowed hard. No, it did not.
Draco shivered, getting a sense that he shouldn’t push him to tell him any more than that. Whatever happened, it had wounded Snape deeply.
Do you have any advice for me? he asked instead.
After a moment, Snape exhaled softly and said, Don’t be cruel to them, no matter what.
Draco burst out laughing, unable to stop himself. Snape stared at him incredulously as Draco continued snickering, even when the humor of his self-inflicted situation had faded. Slowly, Snape’s confusion faded into disgust.
Ugh, it’s Potter, isn’t it? When Draco nodded, Snape sighed and rested his cheek on his hand. I’m sorry, Draco. I think for you, it would be best to get over it.
Did you ever get over your person?
No, Snape answered easily with an expression of deep melancholy.
Draco was startled from his reverie when he suddenly spotted Potter’s date walking down the street, her heels clicking on the cobblestone. He swore under his breath, wishing he hadn’t gotten lost in his own head. Their date ended and he had no idea how that went.
Maybe I’m not the right person for this, he wondered, but he immediately pulled himself together and lifted his chin. No, I can do this. I’m a professional.
“So, did you get anything good?”
“I got some good things,” Draco answered as he turned toward the voice, “but nothing revolut—”
Potter smiled and crossed his arms. “Hey, Malfoy.”
“Potter.”
“Is there a reason you’re snooping on me?”
Sensing an impending fist against his face, Draco slowly took his quill and parchment and put them behind his back. He smiled and said, “Do I really need a reason to get some delicious dirt on you, Potter?”
“Nowadays? Yeah. It’s not like you have a whole crew of Slytherins to impress.”
“Of course not,” Draco scoffed. “Now, I have the whole wizarding world of Britain.”
Potter narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” When Draco shrugged, Potter leaned around him. “Was that a Quick Quill? Malfoy… do you work for a newspaper now?”
“Well done with that sleuthing, Potter,” Draco teased. “I’m The Daily Prophet's premier reporter at the moment.”
“Ugh,” Potter replied, stepping back from him. Under the gentle light of a nearby streetlamp, Draco could finally see that his sweater did indeed bring out Potter’s eyes. If only they weren’t looking at him with such revulsion. “You and that poor excuse for a newspaper deserve each other.”
“Thank you.”
“So, what, you’re going to be one of those nosey idiots following me around? I suspect she was one of yours, too?” he asked, gesturing toward the restaurant.
Draco tilted his head. “She? You mean your date?”
“Yeah! It was obvious that she was either a reporter or an informant. It was pathetic,” he grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair, making it look even wilder. It made Draco’s stomach flip-flop.
“She wasn’t one of ours,” Draco said. “What makes you so sure she was just getting information from you?”
Potter rolled his eyes. “Everything she asked me was a textbook interview question, specifically tailored to Harry Potter. So, how did it feel to defeat You-Know-Who? What are your thoughts on the Ministry’s current leadership? Are your eyes really that color? Of course my eyes are this bloody color! Would anyone look at me and think that my vanity would influence me to charm the exact shade of my eyes?”
Draco smiled as he simmered in his success. He could hear the faint scritch of his quill behind him, taking down every word Potter was spitting out. Vanessa’s satisfied chuckle echoed in his mind, knowing that she really had made the right decision in giving this assignment to him.
“I agree. No one would think that if you were to charm your appearance that you’d start with your eyes. Besides, anyone who knew you at Hogwarts could attest to their validity since there’s no way you would have been able to charm their color as a first year.”
“Exactly,” Potter huffed.
He crossed his arms tighter and glanced around the street with a surly look, giving Draco the chance to give him a once-over. It had been nearly two years since he’d last seen him, and it seemed like they’d been good to him. Without a war to fight, he looked well rested with a youthful glow to his skin. He’d grown a little as well, not quite reaching Draco’s height but his shoulders were broad. His chest, especially with his arms crossed, was ample and pushed against the confines of his sweater.
“Hey,” Potter said, glaring at him. “What were you referencing about my appearance?”
Draco, shaken by how easily his mind had slipped in the gutter, had completely forgotten that part of the conversation. “Hm?”
“You said that if I was to charm my appearance, I wouldn’t start with my eyes.”
“Oh,” he said, laughing. “Ummm, take your pick?” he said, gesturing vaguely at Potter’s face.
“You never change,” Potter said glumly, and Draco felt a sharp pain in his chest. Snape was probably rolling in his grave at his idiocy.
“So, about your date,” he said, clearing his throat. “Was it just the fact that she’d memorized interview questions, or did she commit any other faux pas?”
“Yeah,” Potter said, rolling his eyes. “She couldn’t take her eyes off my forehead.”
“I beg your pardon?” When Potter pointed up at his scar, Draco stared back at him incredulously. “But it’s not even that prominent? And she knew she was going on a date with Harry Potter, so it’s obviously there.”
“I know! I’m Harry Potter and I’ve had this stupid scar on my forehead for as long as I can remember! It’s not going to disappear. It got so bad that, at one point, I actually told her that my eyes were down here,” he said, pointing two fingers at them.
Draco buckled forward and laughed. At that, even Potter couldn’t resist smiling with him, shaking his head. It was just too ridiculous and, while it made excellent newspaper fodder, Draco did feel a little bad that Potter had to put up with it.
“So… bad date?”
“Really bad date,” Potter emphasized. “Can’t even call it that; it wasn’t even real. Why do I even bother?”
“An excellent question. Why have you been dating so much?”
“Nope. I’m not telling you that. I’ve already told you a stupid amount and I’m stopping it right there.”
Draco hummed and took a step closer to him. “Sounds juicy.”
“Not at all.”
“Must be if you won’t tell me.”
“No, I’m not telling you because it’s none of your business. It wasn’t your business before you began working for a sodding newspaper and now it’s even less of your business. So, fuck off, Malfoy,” he said, shooing him with his hand. “I’ll see you in another couple of years.”
“Nope.”
Potter’s eyebrows shot up. “Nope?”
Draco’s smug grin stretched wide as he leaned in closer. “I’m afraid I can’t fuck off, Potter. You see, for the time being, this is my permanent assignment.”
“What, watching me on my dates?”
“Indeed.”
“You’re joking! Doesn’t that make you feel a bit pathetic?”
“It’s my job, Potter, and I intend to do it well. It would be convenient if you told me ahead of time where you’re going and who you’re meeting with,” he hinted as he plucked an imaginary piece of lint from Potter’s sweater. His hand was swatted away quickly, and Potter’s hard glare sent a delicious chill up his spine.
“Fuck… off.” Spinning on his heel, Potter stormed off down the street. When he stopped suddenly and stormed right back, Draco quickly hid his amused smile behind his hand. “You’re terrible at this, you know,” Potter said as soon as he stood in front of him.
“Am I?” Draco asked, knowing full well that he was excellent at his job.
“Yeah! I could see you from the inside of the restaurant, peeking out around these barrels. That stupid blonde head of yours is like a neon sign!”
“Knee-on?”
“Look, just wear a hat, Malfoy. Pathetic,” he mumbled as he turned away, walking with a lot less gusto than before. He continued until he reached the end of the street. There he stopped, sighed so heavily that Draco could almost hear it, and then apparated.
“Cute,” Draco whispered, staring longingly at the place where he’d disappeared. Potter was older, but he was just as easy to rile up as he used to be. Draco was a goner. “At least I got what I needed,” he murmured with a wicked smile. Stuffing his quill and full parchment into his bag, he apparated back to headquarters where he had an intriguing article to write.
—
Just a few days later, Draco shot out of his chair when he heard the cry.
“Potter sighting!”
He grabbed his bag, his new hat, and, once he’d apparated down to the lobby, The Daily Prophet’s newest photographer, Dennis Creevy. He’d only just graduated from Hogwarts and was just as enthusiastic about photography as his older brother had been. It also helped that Harry Potter was his hero and had no qualms about taking his picture.
Well, almost.
“But, Malfoy, Harry doesn’t like invasions of his privacy,” Dennis worried after Draco apparated them both as close to the pub as he could get.
“I know that, Creevy, but he’s not in the comfort of his own home, is he? He’s in public and, therefore, it cannot be regarded as an invasion of his privacy.”
“I guess… when you put it like that.”
“Now, come along,” Draco said, fixing his hat and taking off down the street. “I’ve never been to this place before and it might take us a bit to find it.”
“What are we looking for?”
“A little hole-in-the-wall pub, apparently. A wizard one tucked away in a predominantly muggle area. Wait,” Draco said, pausing as he looked around, “this is Islington, isn’t it?”
“Um, yeah,” Dennis said, looking around to be sure.
“Figures. Islington is where Potter lives.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he inherited Grimmauld Place which is around here somewhere. I’ve been there before when I was very young.”
“Why?”
“Because it used to belong to the Blacks, and my mother is a Black. Less talking, more looking, Creevy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Being called sir made Draco’s eye twitch, but he ignored it as he looked carefully at every building they passed by. He walked past an alley and then suddenly skidded to a stop. The air in front of it had felt different, more pressure with a slight tingle to it. It was some type of ward, he was sure of it, and he had the suspicion that it had a different effect on muggles.
Stepping backward a pace or two, he turned and faced the alley. It was dark and foreboding, but Draco took a chance by walking toward it. He felt a slight push from the wards but once he was beyond it, he could plainly see the pub right in front of him, situated between the two buildings as if it had shoved them apart to exist.
“Nicely done,” Dennis praised him, and Draco scoffed.
“It was nothing. Now, it’s your turn, Creevy. Let’s see if you can get a picture of Potter and his date before they notice us.”
“I’m on it.”
Draco glanced at him, noting the eagerness in his gaze, and smirked. He loved it when Gryffindors were corruptible.
Slowly, they crept up to the pub, mostly staying out of sight. They each stood on either side of the window and once they were in position, they leaned forward and glanced inside. Draco almost laughed at how empty the place was and how easily they could spot Potter and his date. They were each perched on a barstool, right at the counter in front of the bartender.
“Can you get a good shot from here?”
“Yeah,” Dennis replied hesitantly. “Do I just need to get a shot of them, or should I wait for them to do something interesting.”
Draco sighed impatiently. “It’s important that you get at least one shot of them, and you’ll probably only have one chance. What do your instincts tell you, Dennis?”
Dennis released a long exhale and brought his camera up at a snail’s pace. “I got this, Malfoy. Trust me.”
After considering him for a moment, Draco hummed and turned back to the window. Once he located Potter and his date, his stomach lurched, realizing for the first time that Potter’s date was a man. A terribly good-looking one, at that.
It was different from the first date he observed when Draco watched in glee as the date quickly derailed and burned. This time, Potter is completely at ease with his tall, dark, and stupidly handsome date, listening attentively as the man talked his head off enthusiastically. Draco tried picking him apart, looking for any sign of defect. If there was anything, it was that he wouldn’t let Potter have a chance to say something in return but then, as soon as he said it, the man asked a question and took a drink as he listened closely to what Potter was saying.
Well, isn’t he perfect, Draco thought snidely. He had been hoping to witness a whole slew of bad dates, but this one seemed to be going very well, potentially one to end Potter’s dating spree, and he hated it. Partly because he enjoyed being paid to watch Potter, and partly because of his seething jealousy. He could admit it was there, even if it was only to himself.
Both Potter and his date laughed at something he’d said, and his date reached out to grasp Potter’s arm.
POP
Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at the loud sound right next to him, completely forgetting Dennis was there. He laughed as he pulled his camera down and shot Draco a grin.
“Got it! Need me for anything else?”
Stealing a glance inside, he saw Potter and his date staring at the window. Draco shrank back and shook his head.
“No, you’ve been seen. I’d get back to headquarters as soon as you can and get it developed.” He glanced back at Dennis and smirked. “I can handle things from here. Well done.”
Dennis gave him an even broader smile, his whole person lighting up from the praise. In the next moment, he disappeared with a softer pop than his camera had done. Draco chuckled and waited a minute before leaning back in to peer through the window. Potter was still there with his date, still talking amicably but Draco could tell from their stiff body language that they’d been rattled by Dennis taking a picture of them. He was glad he’d waited to take it; Draco was determined to trust Dennis’s instincts from now on, even though he’d been teasing when he said it.
Despite the setback, it seemed like the pair would never run out of things to talk about. Draco sighed and pressed his forehead against the glass. He would have done anything when he was younger to be like that with Potter; talking, smiling, and being at ease with each other. Potter would never be at ease in his presence, and that was a fact.
It took him by surprise when the pair suddenly got up and paid their tabs. Being a small pub, it would only take them a few steps to get out the door, so Draco looked frantically around, but there was no place for him to hide. As the door next to him began to pull open, Draco took a deep breath and cast a quick disillusionment charm on himself, remaining perfectly still.
Potter’s date stepped out, humming cheerfully under his breath, and walked down the street without sensing Draco’s presence at all. It wasn’t until he apparated away that Draco released his breath and felt the knots in his stomach unravel. For a moment, he was sure they were both going to come out and apparate away together, probably to head back to Potter’s place or his date’s, but the man had come out alone.
Draco tipped his head back against the brick wall, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. Potter was still inside, and Draco couldn’t let him sense any of his jealousy when he inevitably walked in the pub to bother him. He needed to be professional; he needed to be in control of the situation.
Once he’d settled down, Draco opened his eyes, removed the disillusionment charm, and walked into the pub. Potter wasn’t there, which was disappointing. At the very least, Draco had to get a good article out of the torture he’d just endured and that required getting a bit more than ‘they talked a lot’. Regardless, he smiled at the bartender and ordered a glass of a fairly good wine he’d spotted on the shelf.
He took a seat at the counter as the bartender poured his wine. As he slid the glass toward Draco, he gazed at him curiously.
“Never seen you here before. Live in the area?”
“Unfortunately, no. This is a nice place,” he said honestly. It had the charm of most wizarding pubs, cozy with a good atmosphere, but with newer furnishings.
“Thank you! Just had it renovated a year ago. It’s been in the family for decades,” he said, moving along the counter as he cleaned it with his wand. “Of course, it used to be a fancy smoking parlor for all the male purebloods in the area. That’s what it was when my father ran it.” He paused as he lost himself in his thoughts for a moment and then huffed out a laugh. “I say male purebloods, but little Bellatrix used to force her way in, and she’d sit next to her father with her feet propped up on the table, puffing a cigar like an old man.”
“Bellatrix?” Draco repeated, nearly spitting out his wine. “As in Bellatrix Lestrange?”
“Yup, back when her name was Bellatrix Black, and she hadn’t lost her marbles yet. Pity that, she was always a sight to be seen,” he sighed, shaking his head.
“She was my aunt.”
“Merlin, you’re joking!”
“Nope. She was my mother’s older sister.”
“Imagine that. Never met any of the other Black girls, but I bet she’s lovely, too.”
“Lovelier,” Draco murmured and took a slow sip of wine. He had a complicated relationship with his parents nowadays, but he couldn’t resist being defensive of her, even for such a small thing as comparing her looks to Bellatrix’s.
“I’m Barry, by the way,” the bartender said, extending his hand.
Draco smiled and shook it. “Draco Malfoy.”
“Ah, that explains the hair. You can always spot Malfoys and Weasleys.”
The comparison irked him for obvious reasons, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as someone sat on the stool next to him.
“Nice hat, Malfoy.”
The hat wasn’t even on his head at the moment, resting on the counter next to his drink. Regardless, Draco turned toward Potter and gave him a dazzling smile.
“Thank you! It was a good idea.”
“Kind of defeats the purpose though when you take pictures of me through a window.”
“Ah, but that wasn’t me.”
Potter sighed and gave him a disparaging look. “He was with you, though, right?”
“He does, in fact, work for The Daily Prophet. Remember Dennis Creevy?”
“Noooo,” Potter cried in genuine dismay. “Not Dennis!”
“Yup! He was so proud of it, too,” Draco snickered. “Aren’t you proud of him, Potter?”
In lieu of answering, Potter clicked his tongue and ordered a pint from Barry.
“You know each other, then?” Barry asked as he filled Potter’s glass.
“Yeah,” Potter replied glumly.
“I can tell. Haven’t seen him glance at your forehead once. Most people stare at it right from the beginning.”
Draco scoffed. “I’ve known Potter since we were eleven years old. Unlike some people, I find no desire to stare at that jagged indentation on his forehead all day long. Besides, there are a myriad of things that make Potter Potter besides that.”
Barry chuckled and leaned on the counter. “Like what?”
“Just have a look at his wild, almost sentient hair,” Draco said, gesturing toward it. Seeing Potter’s growing irritation as he sipped on his beer, Draco grinned and kept going. “That’s just the start of it really. There is, of course, his green eyes that are completely eclipsed by his stupid glasses. Normally, I’d say the bad fashion sense but that has, actually, improved over the last year or so. Did someone take pity on you and take you shopping?”
Potter gave him a hard look and didn’t answer. Draco wasn’t sure what to make of it, but now he was curious. After all, he may not be wearing the green jumper he was before, but his black button-down hugged his slender torso in a way that made it difficult for Draco to keep from drooling. Either Potter could finally pinpoint his own assets and knew how to enhance them, or someone close to him did and helped him fill out his wardrobe appropriately. Draco simultaneously wanted to curse them and give them a hug.
“And then there’s his personality,” Draco continued, giving Barry a mischievous grin. “Such a Gryffindor, brash and headstrong, leaping into action like a complete buffoon.”
“I do not!”
“Really? Are you telling me you’ve always taken a moment to create some sort of plan before you threw yourself into imminent danger? Any of those times, any of them at all?”
Potter’s eyebrows were furrowed deep as he stared at him. “We… planned,” he said haltingly and then, after a longer pause, added, “sometimes. Fuck off, Malfoy,” he growled as Draco began to laugh.
“No way, this is too much fun.”
“You two are close, huh?” Barry asked, pointing between them.
Draco and Potter both gawked at him and said, “No,” in perfect unison.
“Oh… Really?”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Barry, but Potter and I are basically enemies.”
“Huh,” Barry said, shaking his head. “I don’t get that sense at all.”
Potter sighed heavily and gulped down his beer. Draco watched him closely, noting how tired he looked suddenly, and then watched his throat bob as he drank. Because he was very weak, he also glanced down at the swell of Potter’s bicep pushing against the confines of his sleeve.
“What’s wrong, Potter?” he asked with mock concern. “Did the date not go as well as it seemed to?”
“The date was fine,” Potter snapped back without looking at him.
“Just fine? Not great?”
“It was great.”
“What a lackluster response.”
Potter growled and turned toward him. “I don’t want to talk to you about it, Malfoy. It’s none of your business.”
“I beg to differ.”
Barry chuckled and raised his eyebrows at Draco. “You interested in him then?”
Draco stared at him, feeling his stomach drop through the floor. “N-No, I’m a journalist. I write for The Daily Prophet, currently about Potter’s dating spree.”
“Oh,” Barry replied, looking unconvinced.
A strange silence stretched between them. Barry continued cleaning his already clean counters with a very disconcerting smile on his face. Draco was screaming in his own head, wondering if Barry had seen through him already and, if he had, maybe Potter had as well. Potter, on the other hand, seemed lost in his own thoughts as he nursed his pint.
“So,” Draco tried again as he swirled his wine in his glass, “I noticed that your date was a man.”
“Well spotted.”
“You’re open to dating men, then?”
“Obviously.”
“Hmmm, interesting. Any type of man, Potter? I noticed this one was quite good-looking.”
Potter sighed. “He’s fit, but that’s not what’s important to me.”
“What is?”
“Lots of things. Honesty, personality, whether or not we have chemistry…”
“And he had all these things?”
“It was a first date, Malfoy, I don’t know.”
“So, there’ll be a second date this time?” When Potter’s face pinched and he refused to answer, Draco gasped and leaned toward him. “No? So, it really didn’t go well! You were obviously enjoying yourself; what happened?”
“How do you know that?” Potter asked, finally turning toward him.
Draco gave him a withering look. “I know. Come on, what went wrong?”
“Nothing! It was a good date. A great date! We had a slew of interesting conversations and we talked about everything. Mostly businesses and ministry reform. We talked a great deal about that, actually, and we came up with all sorts of great ideas and programs that could be implemented to the point where I wrote some down to bring up with Hermione and potentially Kingsley next time I have a meeting with him.” At the end of his rant, Potter took a long, tired breath and leaned against the counter. “I’d love to work with him, but not date him. There was no sexual chemistry between us at all.”
“None?” Draco asked, his eyes widening. “But he was so good-looking.”
“I know! He’s so fit and so pleasant to be around. I wish I was attracted to him, but honestly, I think it was the same with him.” Potter slumped on the counter and ran his hand through his hair.
Draco smiled as he watched him, pleased that the date hadn’t gone very well. Also, Potter was always so adorable when he was pouty or glum. The desire to scoop him up and coo at him was tempting beyond all reason. Luckily, he retained a sliver of it and sipped on his wine instead.
“Back to the drawing board,” Draco sighed with mock sympathy. “I suppose you’ll give yourself a day or two of recovery, then ask out the next person on your list?”
Potter’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper as he gave him a hard look. When he was certain he wasn’t going to answer the question, Draco smiled and slipped his arm around the back of Potter’s stool.
“Where is this list coming from, by the way? Are you being set up by your friends, or is this a daily contest done by Witches Weekly where the winner gets to go on a date with the savior himself?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“So, it’s the first one? Given the personality of this one, I’d assume this was Granger’s pick, but how did you come by the informant from last time?”
Potter groaned and rubbed his hands on his face. “Malfoy, why do you care?”
With a dramatic gasp, Draco leaned in closer and grasped Potter’s arm. “Why would I not care?”
“You’re such a bastard. Barry, can’t you kick him out?”
Barry, who’d been watching the whole scene with intermittent chuckles, cocked his head and asked, “Why?”
“Because he works for the Daily Prophet.”
Barry shrugged. “I get all kinds in here, Harry.”
“But he’s spying on me and writing about my dates! You can’t kick him out for that?”
“Afraid not. He’s a paying customer like you. If he was to physically assault you or pull a wand on you, then I’d have to kick him out.”
“Hmm…”
Potter leaned back on his stool, not even minding Draco’s arm pressing up against him. He turned his head and Draco instinctively leaned away from him. Even from that distance, it would be easy for either one of them to lean in and kiss the other one, but he knew that wasn’t Potter’s intention. He could fantasize about it all he wanted, his heart was certainly racing already from having Potter so close to him, close enough to taste, but as exciting as it was to be pinned down by those brilliant green eyes of his, Draco could see that all Potter was thinking about how to get him kicked out of the bar.
“I’m older and not as quick to anger as I used to be,” Draco warned him with a sad smile. “You’d have to be very cruel to get me to throw a punch at you these days. Are you prepared for that, Potter? Sure, you’d get me kicked out, but being that mean to me would probably eat you alive.”
Potter studied him for a moment, his gaze growing even more intense. Then, shaking his head, he turned away and drained the rest of his drink. Without another word to Draco, he pulled out some money and placed it on the counter in front of Barry.
“Thanks for the drinks, Barry. Probably won’t be coming back here for a while.”
“Come on, Harry, it’s not like he’d actually interfere with your dates.”
“No, because that wouldn’t be in his best interest. And a Malfoy always does whatever’s in their best interest, even if the world should burn for it. Good night.”
Draco remained where he was, his arm still leaning on the back of an empty stool as the door to the pub swung open and then slowly creaked shut. He sighed heavily, staring up at the rows of bottles on the wall and avoiding Barry’s expectant gaze. After a few moments, Draco finally turned to him and smiled.
“You haven’t any idea where else Potter takes his dates, do you? I’ll pay you extra for it.”
Barry raised an eyebrow. “Why are you doing this?”
“It’s my job.”
“I got that, but what I mean is, why would you be harassing him and urging him to go on dates when you feel this way about him?”
Draco’s smile was gone in an instant, traded in for a sharp glare. “When I feel what way about him? Potter’s my enemy, my rival, and right now, my meal ticket. I have no qualms about bothering him. On the contrary, I thrive on it.”
“That’s the only way to get his attention, huh?”
“Wha—”
“Oh, Draco,” Barry sighed as he leaned back against the shelves and crossed his arms. “I’ve been doing this a long time, son. Loads of people have come through here, hoping to meet someone or on a prearranged date, and I can tell right away if it’s going to turn into something. Potter’s not just a meal ticket to you; he’s the one your soul longs for.”
Draco recoiled at such an insipidly romantic view of the situation. “Don’t make me vomit.”
“Alright, I won’t go that far,” Barry chuckled, holding up his hands, “but how long have you had a shining for him? Come on, I won’t tell.”
“I don’t know,” Draco admitted grumpily. He leaned back in his own stool and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Sometime while we were at school, long after I started bullying him, so you can see why these feelings are difficult for me. It doesn’t matter though. He has his role and I have mine, and I plan on making a lot of money off of him. What else can I do?”
Barry scoffed. “You wouldn’t have to do much.”
“What?”
“You’re already under his skin— deep under it. You got some good banter going with him, so instead of sharpening it up to get a rise out of him, you make it more playful. Then, before you know it, you’re flirting with each other and generating some nice sexual tension.”
“That’s not how it works,” Draco replied, chuckling. It was sweet that Barry was cheering him on, but he didn’t even know half of it. “Maybe it would for some people, but there’s just too much that’s happened between us.”
“It would be water under the bridge in no time,” Barry said, waving his hand flippantly.
“No, everything that’s happened would pile up under the bridge. It would break the bridge.”
“Nah, all you gotta do is—”
Before he could continue, Draco unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt sleeve and rolled it up. He rested his arm on the counter, fully displaying the faded dark mark. Barry stilled as he stared down at it. He didn’t look offended, at least, but it did give enough reason to pause.
“When did you get that?”
“I was sixteen. The Dark Lord himself gave me a special mission, and the only one who suspected me was our blessed savior himself. Later that year, he caught me at a bad moment, and we dueled.” Tugging his shirt sleeve down, he reached up and pulled his tie loose. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway and pulled it open, showing Barry the scars that still swiped across his chest.
“Harry did that?”
“Yes, after I attempted the Cruciatus Curse on him.”
Draco shook his head and slowly buttoned his shirt back up. Barry exhaled slowly as he scratched his cheek. Once he was dressed properly, Draco relaxed and sipped his wine, waiting for Barry to confirm what he already knew.
“Eh. I still think you have a chance.”
Draco gaped at him. “You do not think that.”
“I do. Look, I’m sure what you just told me is just the tip of the iceberg, right? Even so, Harry still doesn’t treat you as badly as he should in that case, and vice versa. You got a lot of baggage between you, but there’s already been some level of forgiveness there, right? You don’t hate him for doing that to you.”
That wasn’t a question. Barry could tell that, while it hurt him physically and emotionally, Draco really didn’t hate him for doing it.
“Well, he did save my life after that, so I guess it canceled it out. It doesn’t matter.”
“Draco, my lad,” Barry said softly, leaning down on the counter, “do you really want to keep following him like this, watching him fall in love with someone else?”
“Barry, my fine fellow, do you really think he’s going to fall in love with one of these worms his friends are digging up out of the dirt?”
“You never know. Diamonds are found in the earth as well.”
“If that miracle happens,” Draco scoffed as he stood up and put some coins on the counter, “then I will write a very good article about it and become as famous as Rita fucking Skeeter. Good night.”
Barry sighed and took the coins, slipping them into his pocket. “Good night.”
—
Ron snickered again, and Harry shared an annoyed look with Hermione. Well, he was annoyed, but she looked mostly amused as she sipped on her tea.
“Let me borrow that from you when you’re done, RonRon,” George said, pouring himself more coffee. “I can’t wait to hear all about that dashing Harry Potter and how much sex he’s getting these days.”
Snickers fluttered around the room, one even coming from Mrs. Weasley before she coughed and glared at him. “George Weasley, that is not appropriate. Besides, Harry is a good boy and he’ll be saving himself for when he finally settles down with someone and gets married. Nothing like experiencing it all on your wedding night,” she sighed, gazing dreamily at the ceiling with pink dusting her cheeks.
Everyone else in the room, save Mr. Weasley who continued eating his breakfast cheerfully, grimaced and avoided looking at her. Harry didn’t know what to say to that, but luckily, she was too lost in thought to require a solemn pledge of abstinence from him, so he cleared his throat and turned to Ron.
“How can you even read that? Malfoy wrote it!”
“I know!” Ron exclaimed as he handed the paper across the table. Harry attempted to intercept it, but George was faster. Ron, at least, gave him a slightly sympathetic look as he piled more food onto his plate. “Trust me, I wanted to spit on every one of his articles when you told me he was writing about you, but… they’re actually really funny.”
“You’re dead to me.”
Beside him, George barked out a laugh and mumbled something under his breath. He was balancing on the back to legs of his chair, so Harry stuck his toe under one of the front ones and tried tipping him back. George caught himself easily and then laughed again at something Malfoy had written.
Harry sighed and glanced across the table. “Come on, Hermione, you’re on my side, right?”
Hermione pursed her lips and looked around the room as if she were seeing the Burrow’s kitchen for the first time in her life.
“Hermione!”
“I’m sorry, Harry, but his articles are funny! No, I do not approve of him bothering you on your dates and reporting it to the entire wizarding world, but…” she paused and looked at him seriously, “at least he’s not making anything up. Do you remember how stressful it was when Rita Skeeter wrote awful things about you, creating love triangles out of nothing and such? The most surprising part of it is that Malfoy hasn’t really said anything negative about you at all, and we all know that he can.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, pointing his fork for emphasis. “That is strange, now that you say that. Maybe… he’s up to something.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Ron and Hermione burst out laughing. It startled Mrs. Weasley out of her reverie, but when she saw the pair giggling together, she beamed and hustled back to the sink to finish her dishes. George snickered again and Percy asked if he could read the article as well once he was finished, a sentiment that was echoed by Mr. Weasley. Harry calmly finished his meal as he contemplated moving to a different continent and getting an entirely new adopted family.