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The second Tuesday of October was just on the brink of Fall, with everything settling into a blanket of orange as everyone began casting their anti-chill charms in the effort to stave off warmer clothing for just that much longer.
Harry and Ron, along with a good number of other blokes from the ministry, had finally been let off work after a particularly grueling case that required the expertise of more than just one or two departments of the ministry, and as a result everyone was going down to the Leaky to celebrate the day's end, and the weekend's start. Harry took a seat next to Ron as he ordered his first pint, eager to let booze wash away the stress that had been mounting as the day wore on.
The case had dealt with a small but determined band of Neo-Deatheaters who had been using the Dark Arts to try and find a way to bring back Voldemort. After months of tracking them down, the ministry had finally gotten hold of their location and had sent everyone in to put a stop to it. Honestly, when would these delusional groups realize that the past was in the past and Voldemort had lost. They had lost, and they had to know Harry would do everything in his power to keep them defeated.
Even if it meant dealing with Draco bloody Malfoy.
Malfoy. Former Deatheather, current Dark Arts specialist. Meaning, of course, that with all these Deatheater cases popping up like that muggle game of whack-a-mole, Malfoy was suddenly back in Harry's life much more than he'd been for the past six years since the war. Harry sighed and took a big gulp of his...whatever this was.
"Oi, you alright, mate?"Ron asked, finally looking over from where he had been recounting to the club at large a particularly nasty hex he'd used against one of Old Voldy's followers, turning their sense of balance on its head, which had prompted the fool to charge straight for the dirt when he had truly believed he had been charging a smug redhead.
"Yeah, yeah. Just a bit tired. All that hexing and running gave me a bit of a workout, you know?" Harry said, hoping to get his friend to leave him be so he could be left in peace to stare blandly at his drink as his thoughts unwittingly strayed to...
"Draco! Over here!" Harry whipped his head towards the door as he heard the name of the man he had desperately been trying to avoid thinking of was yelled over the crowd by the bellowing voice of Millicent Bulstrode, who waved him over to where she and the rest of his group were already seated.
Harry turned to Ron. "Who invited that lot?"
"Well", Ron had ordered his first appetizer of the night and was now scarfing it down with vigor, "I reckon it was one of us, seeing as their curse-breaking skills are one of the reasons we're still here and not in the throes of whatever dark curses those blasted Neos were throwing at us. Hell, I'd've invited them myself if I'd thought of it."
"Oh. No, yeah of course. It's just a bit shocking is all."
"Whatever you say, mate. You sure you're ok? You haven't made a remark about how the ferret's hair is getting too long, or how he always looks like he's above it all." Ron remarked offhand, then chuckled. "Though I guess even the high and mighty Malfoy still needs his drink."
Harry chuckled weakly along with Ron, but inwardly groaned at his own obviousness. Taking another swig of his pint, Harry gave in to the inevitable and let his eyes drift back to the robed figure who sported a shock of almost unreal blond hair. Bloody hell, who told him he was allowed to let his hair get so long, so easy to touch, should one find themselves in such a position.
Harry's hand twitched, and he clung tighter to the handle of his glass.
This was not the first time Harry had noticed one of Malfoy's many delectable features; in fact, Malfoy had been one of the first men he had spent his last year at school wanking to. It had been a year of discovery for Harry.
However, these past few months working with Malfoy and his crew of Death Eater knowledgables have been the first time that Harry and Malfoy have been near each other since they both went their separate ways after graduating.
Malfoy walks into the ministry almost every other day, always with an important and imperative clue that simply must be brought to Kingsley this instant, and then whenever he has finished, he stops by Harry's office.
The first time it happened, Harry had stared open-mouthed as Malfoy had waltzed through the glass doors, aptly colored royal blue robes fluttering gracefully behind him, and delicately perched himself in Harry's comfortable orange office chair, grimacing at either the color or the muggle fashion of it, Harry didn't know.
"Um, Malfoy?" Harry had begun tentatively, resisting the urge to reach over his desk and check Malfoy's temperature the way Aunt Petunia used to do when Dudley began acting strange.
"Potter." Malfoy greeted.
They continued for another minute or so in silence. Malfoy smoothed down the lumpy arm of the chair. Harry tapped his pen against his table, stared at the speck of dust meandering its way through the window's sunlight.
"It seems we will be working together until this case is closed". Harry dropped his pen as Malfoy's voice startled him out of his daze. Malfoy cleared his throat.
"In light of this, I would like to propose a final putting to bed of any animosity that may remain between us from our time during Hogwarts and the war. Do not antagonize me, and I will do my best not do reciprocate."
Harry was still trying to decide whether or not to comment on the numerous innuendos Malfoy had just made when Malfoy stood up, nodded once, and left as swiftly as he had strode in, leaving a speechless and slightly confused Harry in his wake.
From that point on, Malfoy would show up in Harry's office every few days with new info on the case, and occasionally their conversation would derail into other, less work-related topics such as what Pansy had gotten up to in these past few years, Ron and Hermione's marriage, and slowly but surely a strange sort of familiarity grew between them that Harry would never have begun to imagine in all of his time knowing Malfoy.
It was a day for self reflection the first time Harry had gone out to eat at his favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant and his first thought had been that he wished Malfoy was there so he could see his face when Harry introduced him to Harry's choice burger.
All that to say, this was why Malfoy and his fitness had become such a problem for Harry, because now there were feelings involved in this whole bloody mess.
Harry chugged down the last of his minty alcohol and set it down on the table, about to slide it over and ask for another when he heard a distinctive swishing of robes heading towards him.
He turned just in time to see Malfoy reach the barstool next to Harry's, placing his own drink on the counter beside them.
One side of Harry's mouth lifted without his permission, and he stubbornly willed his smile into a neutral expression.
"Potter. What the hell are you drinking?"
Harry looked down at the counter to see that his glass had in fact been refilled with something black and bubbly, courtesy of Ron. He looked over to ask Ron what the bloody hell was in front of him only to find him in the middle of another tale several feet away. He turned back to Malfoy.
"Erm, I don't know. I haven't actually had any yet."
"Ah, well, I suggest you keep it that way. It looks like Thestral vomit."
Harry grimaced at the image. "Have you just come here to judge my drinking habits?"
"Actually, I've come here to avoid my so-called friends. If I have to bloody deal with any more of Blaise trying to set me up with one of his rejects I may have to crucio myself."
Harry paused. "But, Malfoy, isn't Blaise-"
"A flaming homosexual? Undoubtedly. And simply because he and I are alike in that one aspect he seems to think I have the same shoddy taste in men."
If Harry had been adventurous enough to try whatever Ron had bought him, this was about the point where Harry would have choked.
"Wait, you're gay?" He squeaked.
Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Harry, you're not going to go all prude on me, are you? I thought you better than all that nonsense." Malfoy took a delicate swig of what appeared to be regular firewhiskey.
"No, it's not that, I'm just surprised. I fancy men too, so it would be quite hypocritical of me to judge you for it."
Malfoy set down his drink and stared at Harry in that unnerving way he was wont to do, his gaze roaming slowly up and down harry's body, eyes gleaming with something that Harry would have characterized as hope if he didn't know better.
"Interesting"
He finally relieved Harry from his piercing gaze, and Harry let out a shuddering breath, cursing himself for having to subtly adjust his pants underneath his robe over one stupid look.
"Yes, well, I guess there's a lot we still have to learn about each other. Not as though it's done me any good, liking men." Harry began, suddenly feeling brave,"I haven't had a good shag in months." He left out the part where those months had been the ones following Malfoy's arrival at the ministry.
"What, even after saving all of England you can't get a man to look past that face of yours?" Malfoy smirked.
"No, it's not that." Harry didn't know what had gotten into him, but something about the way that Malfoy was staring at him in the way Harry knew he always looked at Malfoy gave him the tiniest seed of hope, and his stupid Gryffindor courage took care of the rest.
"It's just. Recently my taste has become a little more refined,"Harry allowed his gaze to meet Malfoy's with a challenge,"More...platinum blond."
Harry had gotten so close to Malfoy that he heard the faint inhale Malfoy made at these words. Harry stared at him, his heart beating loudly in his heart as he waited, nerves coming back in a sickening rush. Shit, what if he'd been misreading the signals? What if all those times they'd stared at each other just a tad too long to be friendly was just Harry's overly hopeful imagination? What if-
"Well", Malfoy quietly cleared his throat much like he'd done when he first waltzed back into Harry's life and had subsequently turned it on its head like one of Ron's hexes,"I suppose in that case it's a good thing that I'm rather fond of bespectacled brunets myself. That way we'll never fight over the same man." He averted his gaze as though he thought that would hide the faint dusting of pink now covering his cheeks.
Malfoy stood up out of his chair and nodded once, turning to head back towards his own table. He stopped after only two steps and turned to face Harry once more, robes dancing around him at his abruptness. He inhaled.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."
With that, he strode purposefully back to his own table, sitting between Millicent and Theo and placing himself far from Blaise, who seemed to be determined to start up another match for Malfoy already.
Malfoy looked over and caught his gaze.
This time, Harry didn't even bother trying to hold back his smile.