Work Text:
“Help!” Harry begged, as he burst into the office, slamming the door shut behind him. He slumped against it, breathing heavily.
Kingsley blinked at his sudden guest. “Hi?”
“Hi.”
“Care to explain?”
“Maybe?”
“Only maybe?” Kingsley asked, an amused smile tilting his lips up.
Harry shrugged his shoulders lightly before he turned to give the door a suspicious look. When it didn’t open, he crossed the office and collapsed into the chair across the desk from Kingsley.
“So… I maybe just told Romilda Vane—who handles the hiring around here anyway? We need a new screening program, she’s fucking nuts—that I’m dating you?”
Kingsley, barely holding in his laughter, asked, “Why on earth did you do that?”
“Because she won’t leave me alone, and I’m actually scared to death of her? She’s a creeper, King! She’s going to lock me up in a basement somewhere and dose me with a love potion to keep me there.”
Giving up on trying to hold it in, Kingsley started laughing, shaking his head. “So,” he said, as he regained his composure. “What’s the problem?”
Harry blinked. “Well. I thought that I should probably give you some forewarning that we’re dating now. You know, for courtesy’s sake if nothing else.”
“Fair enough,” Kingsley replied, shrugging. “You spend enough time here when you should be working anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard to fake.”
“I’m shocked and appalled that you’re insinuating that I don’t work enough.”
Kingsley arched his eyebrows. “Who’s insinuating?”
…
“We made the front page.”
Kingsley accepted the offered paper, and took the offered coffee with his other hand.
“Thanks for the coffee. How did the Prophet get hold of this so fast?”
“Romilda. Probably,” Harry offered, a little apologetically.
Kingsley shrugged, tossing the paper onto his desk. “Ah, well, at least I don’t have to faff around finding a date for the Summer Ball next month.”
“Eh?”
“I can just take you with me.”
“You know that I avoid the Ministry Balls. Like the plague. Like… like as if there were clowns carrying plague ridden peacocks, even.”
Harry shuddered.
“Okay, but your ridiculous fears aside, you’re still going with me.”
Is it too late to abort mission?” Harry asked, wrinkling his nose. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the love potions in the basement.”
…
“What colour are you wearing?”
Kingsley glanced down at the robes he was wearing and then looked back up at Harry. “Navy blue. Have you gone colour blind again, Harry?”
“That was a bloody prank!” Harry muttered, glowering at the memory. “And I meant for the Summer Ball, you tit.”
“Of course you did. I knew that. Green and silver.”
“You’re going to make me dress like a Slytherin? I thought you liked me, Kings.”
“I do like you, and you happen to look great in Slytherin colours, Harry. You can’t blame that on me.”
“I’d rather wear pink,” Harry grumbled, stealing a biscuit off the small plate on the desk.
“That can be arranged, you know?”
…
“You look… amazing.”
Harry felt his cheeks flush and looked away, suddenly shy. “Ta. Ginny picked the things. I just, uh, put ‘em on.”
“Well, you certainly carry them well. Are you ready?”
“I suppose so. As ready as anyone can be for this particular brand of torture, anyway.”
Kingsley, ever the gentleman, offered his arm. “Let’s go then.”
…
Kingsley didn’t see neither hide nor hair of Harry for almost a week. It was weird. Usually, Harry would drop into his office at least once a day, even if it was only to drop off a sweet treat, or coffee. Kingsley even tried to visit Harry’s office, only to find him absent every time he checked.
He’d have been worried that Harry was locked up in a basement somewhere if he didn’t know from the other Auror’s that he was, in fact, at work every day.
He’d have wondered if he’d done something at the Ball to offend Harry, but they’d had a brilliant evening, laughing and teasing each other as they always did.
He was at a loss.
The only thing he knew with any certainty was that he needed to fix things one way or another.
He missed Harry.
…
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“And you just Apparated into my flat without notice. Rude, dude.”
Kingsley snorted and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been trying to catch you at work all week. It’s not my fault that you’re suddenly never available, is it. So. Why are you avoiding me?”
Harry rolled his eyes, but waved at the other end of the sofa for Kingsley to sit down. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“Yeah, you have.”
“Okay, maybe a bit.”
“We’re back to maybe?”
“Uh huh. Did you see the Prophet the day after the Summer Ball?”
Kingsley nodded. “I did. Is it… was it the picture?”
Blushing, Harry nodded sheepishly.
A slight crease appeared as Kingsley’s brow furrowed. “I thought it was a nice picture.”
Harry nodded hurriedly. “It was. That’s… that’s the problem. I liked the way we looked together, a lot. And, well. You know. I felt awkward about it then, and I didn’t want you to think that I started all of this as some convoluted plot, and then I think that I was maybe overthinking, but—”
“Breathe, Harry.”
His blush only intensified as he fell silent.
“Come on,” Kingsley said, suddenly pushing himself to his feet.
“Uh. Where are we going?”
“For food.”
“I have food in the fridge.”
“You wanna cook?”
Harry shrugged. “I can. If you want. I have the stuff in for… erm… lasagna, I think? And… if we go out, we’ll have to deal with the press, and I really can’t be bothered.”
“But if we stay in, how do I kiss you goodnight when I walk you to your door?”
Harry blinked.
Then blinked again.
“What?”
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Harry.”