Work Text:
The Ministry of Magic always seemed louder when it rained.
Perhaps it was because everyone arrived at once, shaking droplets from their cloaks and umbrellas before disappearing into the endless maze of corridors. The Atrium buzzed with overlapping conversations, the distant ding of the lifts, and the occasional screech of an impatient owl weaving through the crowd with an official parcel tied to its leg.
Harry barely noticed any of it.
He had been awake for almost twenty hours.
The previous night's raid had been successful, but as Kingsley often liked to remind the Aurors, successful raids came with unsuccessful amounts of paperwork. By the time Harry had finally stumbled into bed, the sky had already begun to lighten outside his bedroom window.
Four hours later, he was back at the Ministry.
His shoulders ached.
His eyes burned.
And all he wanted was coffee.
Strong coffee.
The kind that might actually convince his body it wasn't desperately trying to fall asleep standing up.
He pushed open the door to the small café tucked into one corner of the Atrium, offering the witch behind the counter a tired smile.
"The usual?"
She smiled knowingly.
"Extra strong."
"You know me too well."
"Unfortunately."
Harry laughed quietly, paid for his drink, and wrapped both hands around the warm cup as she slid it across the counter.
The smell alone made him feel marginally more alive.
Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.
Balancing the coffee in one hand, he pulled a thin Ministry file from beneath his arm with the other.
His team had already completed most of the report, but habit made him read everything himself.
"Suspect apprehended without incident..."
Good.
"Recovered Dark artefacts transferred to Evidence Storage..."
Also good.
He continued walking without really paying attention to where he was going.
The Atrium was familiar enough that he rarely had to.
Or so he thought.
Thud.
Pain exploded across his forehead.
His vision blurred for a split second as the force of the impact sent him stumbling backwards.
The file slipped from his fingers.
Several sheets of parchment scattered across the polished stone floor.
His coffee lurched violently in the cup, splashing over his hand and soaking the sleeve of his robes.
Harry stared blankly at the large stone pillar in front of him.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
For one horribly long second, the bustling Atrium seemed to fall silent.
Then came the unmistakable feeling of people trying very hard not to stare.
Someone coughed.
Another wizard quickly looked away.
Harry let out a defeated sigh and crouched to gather the loose parchment.
"Nice one, Potter," he muttered to himself.
Just as he reached for the last page, he heard it.
A quiet sound.
Soft.
Brief.
Almost impossible to notice beneath the chatter filling the Atrium.
Almost.
It wasn't laughter.
Not really.
More like someone trying and failing to suppress a snort.
Harry frowned.
He slowly lifted his head.
A few metres away stood Draco Malfoy.
He looked exactly as he always did at work.
Perfectly pressed black robes.
Silver cufflinks catching the light.
A stack of neatly organised files tucked beneath one arm.
Everything about him was composed.
Controlled.
Except...
There it was.
The faintest upward curve at the corner of his mouth.
It lasted no more than a heartbeat.
His grey eyes met Harry's.
For that single moment, they weren't cold.
They weren't guarded.
They held unmistakable amusement.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the expression vanished.
His face settled back into its usual unreadable calm.
"If you intend to become one with the architecture," Draco said smoothly, "I'd recommend choosing a less populated corridor."
Harry blinked.
His brain, still recovering from both the collision and a severe lack of sleep, struggled to produce anything remotely intelligent.
"I..."
Brilliant start.
He cleared his throat.
"Right."
Draco inclined his head ever so slightly before continuing on his way as though nothing unusual had happened.
Within seconds, he disappeared into the sea of Ministry employees.
Harry remained where he was for another moment, still holding the last sheet of parchment he'd forgotten to pick up.
Did...
Did Malfoy just...?
No.
Not laugh.
Smile.
Harry couldn't remember ever seeing Draco Malfoy smile.
Not during the war.
Not after the trials.
Not in the years they'd worked in the same building.
It had only lasted a second.
Barely enough to be real.
Yet somehow...
It was all Harry could think about as the lift doors slid shut behind him.
---
By the time Harry finally left the Auror Office, the Ministry felt like an entirely different building.
The endless chatter that usually echoed through the corridors had faded hours ago. Most employees had already Apparated home or disappeared through the Floo Network, leaving behind quiet hallways lit by enchanted wall lamps that cast warm pools of light across the polished stone floor.
Harry let out a tired sigh as he adjusted the stack of reports tucked beneath his arm.
Another successful case.
Another mountain of paperwork.
He sometimes wondered if becoming an Auror had secretly meant signing a lifelong contract to fill out forms.
His neck ached.
His eyes stung.
All he wanted was to get home, collapse onto his sofa, and pretend tomorrow didn't exist.
As he walked towards the lifts, he absentmindedly flipped open the top report.
"Witness statement..."
He frowned.
There was a spelling mistake in the second paragraph.
Typical.
His quill hovered over the parchment as he scribbled a correction without breaking his stride.
He didn't notice the figure standing a few metres ahead.
Draco Malfoy stood alone beside one of the tall windows overlooking London's rain-soaked streets.
His jacket had been folded neatly over one arm, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his forearms. A leather satchel rested at his feet, forgotten for the moment.
He wasn't reading.
He wasn't working.
He simply stood there, watching the rain trace lazy paths down the glass.
For the first time Harry could remember, Draco looked... still.
Not guarded.
Not tense.
Just quiet.
Harry never saw him.
He took one more step.
And walked straight into him.
The impact wasn't hard, but it was enough to jolt them both.
Harry stumbled backwards so quickly that half his reports slid from beneath his arm and scattered across the floor.
"Oh... Merlin!"
He caught himself before he could fall completely, his face burning almost instantly.
"I'm so sorry."
Draco turned around.
Harry braced himself.
He expected an irritated sigh.
A cutting remark.
Perhaps even one of the familiar comments that had followed him throughout their school years.
Instead, Draco merely looked at him.
There was the slightest crease between his brows, more puzzled than annoyed.
"...Potter."
Harry crouched immediately, gathering the scattered parchment.
"I really wasn't paying attention."
"So I've noticed."
His voice was calm.
Matter-of-fact.
Not mocking.
Harry glanced up as he reached for another report.
"You'd think walking into a pillar would've taught me something."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
For a heartbeat, silence settled between them.
Then Harry heard it again.
That soft, unmistakable sound.
A quiet breath through Draco's nose.
Almost a laugh.
Harry looked up.
There it was.
The tiniest smile curled at the corner of Draco's mouth.
It wasn't dramatic.
Most people probably wouldn't even have noticed it.
But Harry did.
The expression softened Draco's entire face.
His eyes, usually so carefully unreadable, warmed for the briefest moment with quiet amusement.
"You seem to have developed a habit," Draco said.
Harry couldn't help it.
He laughed.
A genuine, slightly embarrassed laugh that echoed softly down the empty corridor.
"I don't know what's wrong with me this week."
"I was beginning to think the pillar had done permanent damage."
Harry blinked.
"...Was that a joke?"
Draco's eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.
"I suppose you'll have to decide."
Before Harry could answer, the lift at the end of the corridor chimed softly.
The doors slid open.
Neither of them moved.
Rain continued to patter gently against the tall windows.
Harry found himself looking at Draco instead.
Really looking.
The dark circles beneath his eyes.
The loosened tie.
The sleeves rolled to his forearms.
He looked just as exhausted as Harry felt.
"Long day?" Harry asked quietly.
Draco followed his gaze back to the rain.
"...Long week."
There was something in the way he said it.
Not bitter.
Just... tired.
Harry understood that kind of tired.
The sort that sleep couldn't fix.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Strangely, the silence wasn't uncomfortable.
It simply existed between them, filled only by the steady rhythm of rain against glass.
Eventually Draco bent down, picked up the final sheet Harry had missed, and held it out to him.
"You dropped this."
Harry accepted it, their fingers brushing for barely a second.
"Thanks."
Draco gave a single nod before retrieving his satchel.
"Try not to walk into anyone else on your way home."
Harry smiled despite himself.
"I'll do my best."
"I wouldn't make promises you can't keep."
The corner of Draco's mouth twitched again.
Just for an instant.
Then he stepped into the lift.
The doors slid shut.
Harry remained standing in the corridor long after the lift had disappeared.
He looked down at the report in his hands.
He had no idea what he'd been reading.
All he could think about was that smile.
Twice.
In less than a week.
Maybe it wasn't that Draco Malfoy never smiled.
Maybe...
No one had ever bothered to notice.
----
The following Tuesday was already shaping up to be one of those days.
The kind that made Harry question why he'd ever thought becoming an Auror sounded exciting.
He had barely finished his first cup of coffee before an emergency meeting had been called. A suspect they had spent months investigating had been released after a procedural error, one Harry hadn't even made. It hadn't mattered.
There had been shouting.
Accusations.
Hours of paperwork.
By the time Harry finally left the conference room, his patience had been worn dangerously thin.
He loosened his tie as he walked down the corridor, rubbing a hand over his tired face.
All he wanted was to go home.
"Potter."
Harry kept walking.
He recognised the voice but had no interest in the conversation.
"Potter."
He exhaled sharply before stopping.
"What?"
The wizard standing a few metres behind him folded his arms across his chest.
It was Edgar Collins from Magical Law Administration.
Harry had worked with him exactly twice.
That had been enough.
"Heard your suspect walked free."
Harry's jaw tightened.
"So?"
"So..." Collins shrugged. "Seems like a lot of work for nothing."
"It wasn't my decision."
"No?"
"No."
Collins smiled, a smug, irritating little smile.
"Funny. I thought the famous Harry Potter usually got his way."
Harry turned to leave.
"Guess fame only gets you so far."
Harry stopped again.
The corridor suddenly felt much quieter.
He slowly looked back over his shoulder.
"What exactly is your problem?"
"My problem?" Collins laughed. "Nothing. Just seems everyone's still treating you like you're the saviour of the wizarding world."
Harry said nothing.
"I mean..." Collins continued, taking a step closer. "How many people are still cleaning up the mess after your war?"
Harry's hands curled into fists.
"Watch it."
"But I suppose that's easier than admitting you make mistakes."
"I said..." Harry's voice dropped. "...watch it."
Collins didn't.
Instead, he leaned in just enough for only Harry to hear.
"Maybe You-Know-Who should've finished the job."
Everything stopped.
The corridor.
The conversations.
The exhaustion.
For one blinding second, Harry saw nothing but red.
He shoved Collins hard enough to send him stumbling backwards.
"You don't get to say that."
Collins recovered quickly and shoved Harry back with equal force.
"Touch a nerve, did I?"
Harry didn't answer.
His fist did.
The punch caught Collins square across the jaw.
He staggered before swinging wildly in return.
Pain exploded across Harry's cheek as knuckles connected with bone.
He barely felt it.
Adrenaline drowned everything else.
Collins grabbed the front of Harry's robes.
Harry shoved him into the wall.
They crashed into a nearby cabinet, sending stacks of parchment raining across the floor.
A chair toppled over.
Someone screamed.
Voices erupted around them.
"Merlin!"
"Someone stop them!"
Neither of them listened.
Collins swung again.
Harry ducked and drove his shoulder into the other man's chest, forcing them both backwards.
Another desk overturned.
Ink bottles shattered across the stone floor.
Only now were people beginning to rush towards them.
No one had expected Harry Potter to start a fistfight in the middle of the Ministry.
No one seemed to know what to do.
Collins drew back his arm.
Before the punch could land, another hand caught his wrist.
Firm.
Unmoving.
"Enough."
The word wasn't shouted.
It didn't need to be.
Harry looked up.
Draco Malfoy stood between them, his expression unnervingly calm.
His fingers remained locked around Collins' wrist.
"I suggest," Draco said evenly, "that you leave."
Collins tried to pull free.
"Get off me."
"No."
Draco's voice never rose.
"You've embarrassed yourself enough."
Security finally rounded the corner, followed by half a dozen Ministry employees who had abandoned whatever they had been doing.
Collins glanced around at the growing crowd before wrenching his arm free.
"This isn't over."
"It is," Draco replied.
Two security wizards immediately stepped between them and escorted Collins away despite his continued protests.
Harry tried to follow.
"He doesn't get to walk away!"
He took one angry step forward before Draco caught his forearm.
Not painfully.
Just enough to stop him.
"Potter."
Harry pulled against his grip.
"Let me go."
"No."
"Did you hear what he said?"
"Yes."
"Then let me go."
Draco met his gaze without flinching.
"No."
"He deserved worse."
A brief silence settled between them.
"Perhaps," Draco admitted quietly.
Harry blinked.
That wasn't the response he'd expected.
"But hitting him now won't change what he said."
Harry's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
"I don't care."
"I know."
"He had no right."
"No."
"He doesn't know anything."
"No."
Each answer came calmly.
Without judgement.
Without trying to tell Harry to calm down.
Slowly, Harry's breathing steadied.
Only then did Draco's eyes flick to Harry's face.
Blood ran from a split lip, dripping onto the front of his robes.
"...You're bleeding."
Harry wiped at it roughly with the back of his hand, smearing the blood across his knuckles.
"So?"
"So," Draco replied, his tone maddeningly patient, "you're coming with me."
"I'm not."
"Potter."
"I'm fine."
"No," Draco said simply. "You're angry."
Harry opened his mouth to argue.
Draco beat him to it.
"And you're bleeding all over Ministry property."
Harry glared at him.
For the first time since the fight began, the corner of Draco's mouth twitched.
"If you'd rather," he said dryly, "I can heal you here while the entire corridor continues pretending not to stare."
Harry looked around.
At least twenty people were doing an exceptionally poor job of pretending not to watch.
His shoulders sagged.
"...Fine."
"I thought you might see reason eventually."
Draco released his arm and turned down the corridor without another word.
After a moment's hesitation, Harry followed.
----
The Healer declared Harry's split lip healed enough to stop bleeding, though the bruise blooming across his cheek would remain for another day or two.
Harry barely listened.
He muttered a quiet thanks, accepted the small jar of healing salve he was instructed to apply that evening, and left the First Aid room without another word.
Draco walked beside him.
Neither of them spoke.
For once, the silence wasn't awkward.
Harry simply didn't trust himself to speak.
Three days later, an official Ministry owl landed on Harry's desk.
Mandatory Disciplinary Hearing.
Attendance required.
Harry sighed.
Of course.
Fistfights in the middle of the Ministry apparently generated an impressive amount of paperwork.
He should have expected that.
The hearing room was far smaller than Harry had imagined.
A long oak table stretched across the centre of the room. Three members of the disciplinary committee sat behind it, stacks of parchment neatly arranged before them.
Harry recognised none of them.
Collins was already seated on the opposite side.
The bruise along his jaw had faded to yellow.
Harry's own cheek had healed days ago.
The memories hadn't.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry nodded politely.
"Please, take a seat."
He did.
A chair scraped quietly across the stone floor behind him.
Draco.
Harry glanced over his shoulder just long enough to see him taking a seat near the back of the room.
Witness.
Nothing more.
Still...
Harry found himself oddly relieved he was there.
The chairwoman cleared her throat.
"This hearing concerns the altercation that occurred on the third floor last Tuesday."
Harry nodded once.
Collins folded his arms.
The questions began simply.
Who threw the first punch?
What had been said?
Who had witnessed the incident?
Harry answered honestly.
Yes.
No.
I shoved him first.
No, I don't deny it.
Eventually, the chairwoman turned to Collins.
"Mr. Collins, is there anything you wish to add?"
Collins leaned back in his chair.
"I'd simply like the committee to understand that Mr. Potter overreacted."
Harry stared at the tabletop.
"I made one comment."
Silence.
"He assaulted me."
The chairwoman looked at Harry.
"Mr. Potter?"
Harry remained calm.
"I pushed him."
Collins scoffed.
"Exactly."
Another committee member frowned.
"What was this comment?"
Collins shrugged.
"The truth."
Harry's jaw tightened.
"I merely pointed out that his investigation failed."
"It wasn't my investigation," Harry said quietly.
"No?"
Collins smiled.
"Funny. That's not what everyone in the Ministry seems to think."
The chairwoman raised a hand.
"Mr. Collins."
But he continued.
"People treat him like he can do no wrong."
Harry's fingers curled beneath the table.
"He makes mistakes."
The room remained silent.
"People get hurt."
Harry focused on the grain of the wood beneath his hands.
"It happens."
Another pause.
Then Collins laughed.
"A lot of people have been hurt because of Harry Potter."
Harry's breathing slowed.
"Mr. Collins," one committee member warned.
"You want me to stop?" Collins replied. "Fine."
He looked directly at Harry.
"But we all know it's true."
Harry didn't move.
"His godfather."
The room disappeared.
"Sirius."
A flash of black robes.
A veil.
Falling.
"His Headmaster."
The Astronomy Tower.
The green light.
Dumbledore falling into darkness.
"Lupin."
Tonks.
The Great Hall.
Fred.
His parents.
Faces.
Voices.
Graves.
"...Mr. Potter?"
Someone was speaking.
Harry couldn't hear them.
"...Mr. Potter?"
His chest suddenly felt too tight.
The chairwoman exchanged a worried glance with the others.
"Mr. Potter?"
Nothing.
Harry stared at the table, but he wasn't seeing it anymore.
He was seventeen again.
Covered in ash.
Walking through Hogwarts.
Counting the people who would never wake up.
A chair moved quietly.
Draco stood.
"If I may."
The committee looked towards him.
"I believe Mr. Potter needs a moment."
The chairwoman nodded immediately.
"Of course."
Harry didn't realise he had stood until he found himself outside the hearing room.
The corridor was quiet.
He stopped beside one of the tall windows overlooking London.
Rain tapped gently against the glass.
His breathing still refused to settle.
Draco joined him a moment later.
He didn't speak.
He simply stood beside Harry.
One minute passed.
Then another.
Finally Harry laughed once.
It was hollow.
"I punched him."
"Yes."
"I proved him right."
"No."
Harry shook his head.
"I lost control."
"You did."
"I shouldn't have."
"No."
Harry closed his eyes.
"I just..."
His voice cracked.
"He started naming them."
Draco remained silent.
"Sirius."
Harry swallowed hard.
"Remus."
"Fred."
"My parents."
Each name came out quieter than the last.
"I keep telling myself it wasn't my fault."
He laughed bitterly.
"But every time someone says it out loud..."
His shoulders slumped.
"...part of me believes them."
For a long moment, Draco said nothing.
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost gentle.
"I know."
Harry looked at him.
Draco wasn't looking back.
He was watching the rain.
"I know what it's like," he said quietly, "to spend years believing every terrible thing people say about you."
Harry didn't answer.
"They chose."
Harry frowned.
"What?"
"Sirius chose."
Another pause.
"So did Remus."
"And Tonks."
"And your parents."
Draco finally turned to face him.
"They didn't die because they loved you."
His grey eyes held Harry's steadily.
"They died protecting the future they believed you deserved."
Harry felt his throat tighten.
"I've never been able to..."
"I know."
"...stop blaming myself."
"I know."
Another silence settled between them.
This one was softer.
Less painful.
Harry stared at the rain running down the window.
"...Thank you."
Draco looked at him.
"What for?"
Harry managed the smallest of smiles.
"For staying."
For the first time since Harry had walked into that stone pillar days ago, Draco smiled without trying to hide it.
It wasn't large.
It wasn't dramatic.
Just warm.
Quiet.
Real.
And somehow...
Harry thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
---
The Ministry had a strange way of pretending nothing had happened.
By Monday morning, the overturned desks had been replaced, the shattered ink bottles had vanished, and the corridor where Harry had lost his temper looked exactly as it always had.
It was as though the building itself refused to remember.
Harry, however, remembered everything.
The hearing.
Collins.
The rain against the window.
Draco's quiet voice.
They chose.
Those two words had followed him home.
They lingered in the back of his mind while he made breakfast, while he completed paperwork, while he lay awake far later than he should have.
Somehow...
They helped.
Not enough to erase the guilt.
Nothing ever could.
But enough to make it feel a little lighter.
---
Harry had just finished another report when he decided he desperately needed coffee.
The familiar café in the Atrium was unusually quiet for once.
He ordered his usual drink before turning to leave and almost walked straight into someone.
He caught himself just in time.
"...I stopped."
A familiar voice answered.
"You did."
Harry looked up.
Draco was standing there, one eyebrow slightly raised.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Harry smiled.
"I suppose that's progress."
"I was beginning to lose hope."
Harry let out a quiet laugh.
"You'll be pleased to know I haven't walked into any pillars recently."
"I heard."
Harry blinked.
"...You heard?"
Draco accepted his own coffee from the witch behind the counter.
"The story travelled."
Harry groaned.
"Of course it did."
"It reached Level Two."
"Brilliant."
"And someone may have started referring to that pillar as 'Potter's greatest rival.'"
Harry closed his eyes.
"I'm transferring departments."
The corner of Draco's mouth lifted.
"There it is," Harry said before he could stop himself.
Draco frowned faintly.
"There what is?"
"Your smile."
For the briefest moment, Draco looked genuinely surprised.
Harry immediately realised what he'd said.
"I..."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Sorry."
"No."
Draco looked down at his coffee before meeting Harry's eyes again.
"You've mentioned it before."
Harry nodded awkwardly.
"I have."
"I didn't think anyone noticed."
The words were so quiet Harry almost missed them.
Harry studied him for a moment.
"I think..."
He hesitated.
"I think people stopped looking."
Draco didn't answer.
The bustle of the Atrium carried on around them, witches and wizards weaving past without paying either of them much attention.
It was strangely peaceful.
"You notice," Draco said eventually.
Harry smiled.
"Yeah."
"I do."
Something softened in Draco's expression.
Not just his smile.
His eyes.
The guarded distance Harry had grown so used to seeing wasn't completely gone...
But it wasn't as solid as it had been a few weeks ago.
"Come on," Harry said, lifting his coffee.
"I've got ten minutes before someone inevitably finds more paperwork for me."
Draco looked almost amused.
"Are you inviting me for coffee, Potter?"
Harry pretended to think about it.
"I suppose I am."
"And if I say no?"
"I'll drink both coffees."
"You only have one."
"I'll buy another."
A quiet laugh escaped Draco before he could stop it.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't forced.
It was warm.
Real.
Harry couldn't help smiling back.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Draco gestured towards a small table tucked beside one of the tall Atrium windows.
"I have exactly eight minutes."
Harry grinned.
"I'll take eight."
As they walked towards the table together, Harry realised something that made him smile all over again.
For the first time since the war...
Seeing Draco smile no longer felt surprising.
It simply felt... right.
----
The Ministry was unusually quiet by the time Draco finally finished the last of his paperwork.
He slipped his fountain pen into his satchel, shrugged on his coat, and allowed himself a small sigh of relief.
Home.
At last.
The corridors were almost empty as he made his way towards the lifts, the soft click of his shoes echoing against the stone floor.
As he passed the Auror Department, something caught his attention.
One of the office doors stood half open.
Light spilled into the corridor.
Almost without thinking, Draco glanced inside.
Harry Potter stood with his back to the doorway.
His mission robes had been discarded over the back of a chair, stained with dirt and soot. A clean shirt hung loosely from one hand while he rubbed a towel through his damp hair with the other.
For a brief moment, Harry hadn't noticed him.
His shoulders bore fading bruises in shades of purple and yellow, remnants of a job that had clearly gone less smoothly than the official report would eventually claim.
A thin silver scar curved along the side of his ribs, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers.
Draco had seen countless scars in his lifetime.
His own body carried enough of them.
Yet somehow...
Seeing them on Harry felt different.
They weren't reminders of victory.
They were proof of everything the man standing before him had survived.
Harry pulled the clean shirt over his head, the fabric catching briefly before falling into place.
Only then did he glance towards the open door.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
"Oh."
Harry looked faintly surprised.
"I didn't realise anyone was still here."
Draco cleared his throat, forcing his gaze back to Harry's face.
"I was just leaving."
Harry smiled sheepishly as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt.
"Long day?"
"So I've heard."
Harry chuckled quietly.
"You can probably tell."
"I can."
Another brief silence settled between them.
Draco wasn't entirely sure why he was still standing there.
He should have said goodnight and continued towards the lifts.
Instead, he found himself noticing the way Harry's hair was still slightly damp from the shower in the Auror changing rooms.
The tiredness lingering in his green eyes.
The easy smile that had become increasingly familiar over the past few weeks.
It struck him then, quite unexpectedly.
Harry Potter was... attractive.
Not because he was the Boy Who Lived.
Not because of the stories, the fame, or the legend.
Simply because he was Harry.
Warm.
Kind.
Hopelessly unaware of himself.
Draco looked away first.
"I'll let you get home."
Harry nodded.
"See you tomorrow?"
The words came naturally, as though they had been saying them to one another for years.
Draco felt the corner of his mouth lift.
"Tomorrow."
As he continued towards the lifts, he found himself smiling for reasons he couldn't quite explain.
And for the first time in a very long while...
The thought of tomorrow made him look forward to coming back to work.
---
The annual Ministry Gala was never Harry's favourite evening of the year.
Too many speeches.
Too many politicians.
Too many people pretending they actually enjoyed standing around in dress robes for hours.
Ron had disappeared almost immediately after they arrived, lured away by the promise of free food.
Hermione was already deep in conversation with Kingsley and several department heads.
Leaving Harry alone with a glass of firewhisky he had barely touched.
He was just considering whether anyone would notice if he slipped out early when the entrance doors opened.
Harry looked up.
And forgot how to breathe.
Draco Malfoy stepped into the ballroom.
His robes had been replaced by a perfectly tailored black suit that looked as though it had been made specifically for him. The crisp white shirt beneath it contrasted sharply against the dark fabric, while a silver watch caught the warm light each time he moved.
His blond hair, usually neatly combed for work, had been styled just enough to look effortless.
It wasn't fair.
Harry had seen Draco almost every day for weeks.
He had never looked like...
...that.
"Merlin," Harry muttered quietly.
As though sensing the attention, Draco glanced across the crowded room.
Their eyes met.
Harry immediately looked away.
Smooth.
Very smooth.
By the time Harry dared look back, Draco was speaking with two witches from International Magical Cooperation.
Both of them were laughing.
One touched Draco's arm.
Harry frowned before he could stop himself.
Why was that bothering him?
He took a long sip from his drink.
It didn't help.
For the next twenty minutes, Harry somehow managed to always know exactly where Draco was.
Talking to another department.
Laughing at something someone had said.
Accepting another drink.
Smiling.
Always smiling.
"You've been staring at Malfoy all evening."
Harry nearly inhaled his firewhisky.
"I have not."
Ron raised an eyebrow.
"Harry."
"I've just been..."
He searched desperately for an excuse.
"...observing."
"Right."
Ron grinned.
"Professionally?"
Harry glared at him.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Before Harry could think of a reply, someone stopped beside him.
"Good evening, Potter."
Harry turned.
Draco.
Close enough now that Harry caught the faint scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne.
"You clean up well," Harry blurted.
He froze.
Draco blinked once.
Then, very slowly...
He smiled.
"Thank you."
Harry wished the floor would open beneath him.
"I mean..."
"I know what you meant."
There was something different in Draco's eyes tonight.
Something lighter.
Almost... mischievous.
"You've been watching me."
Harry's mouth fell open.
"What?"
"I said..." Draco stepped half a pace closer. "...you've been watching me."
"I haven't."
"No?"
Draco tilted his head ever so slightly.
"I could have sworn I caught you looking at least six times."
Harry's ears burned.
"It wasn't six."
Draco's smile widened.
"So you were counting."
"I..."
Harry stopped.
Merlin.
Draco actually laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough that the sound settled warmly between them.
"I've been wondering," Draco continued, lowering his voice, "how long it would take before you admitted it."
"Admitted what?"
"That you're interested."
Harry stared at him.
Draco looked infuriatingly pleased with himself.
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
"Hm."
Draco glanced towards Harry's untouched drink.
"You've barely had anything to drink."
"No."
"So you're naturally this flustered."
Harry covered his face with one hand.
"I preferred you when you smiled less."
"I didn't."
Harry looked up.
"What?"
"I didn't smile less."
Draco held his gaze.
"You simply weren't paying attention."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The music drifted through the ballroom as couples slowly made their way onto the dance floor.
Draco offered Harry a small, almost teasing smile.
"Tell me something, Potter."
Harry swallowed.
"What?"
"When are you planning to ask me to dance?"
Harry blinked.
"...You think I'm going to ask?"
"I know you are."
"And what makes you so confident?"
Draco leaned in just enough that only Harry could hear his answer.
"Because every time another witch has asked me this evening..."
His grey eyes never left Harry's.
"...you've looked positively murderous."
Harry felt every coherent thought leave his head.
Draco's smile turned almost unbearably smug.
"I'll give you another five minutes."
With that, he brushed past Harry's shoulder and disappeared back into the crowd.
Harry watched him go.
Ron appeared beside him once more.
"So..."
Harry let out a long breath.
"I think Malfoy knows."
Ron snorted.
"I don't think that's the only thing he knows."
---
The music from the ballroom became little more than a distant murmur as Harry stepped out onto the balcony.
The cool evening air immediately brushed against his face, carrying with it the scent of rain. It hadn't started pouring yet, but dark clouds hung low over London, threatening to burst at any moment.
Harry rested both hands on the stone balustrade and let out a slow breath.
The gala was beautiful.
The speeches had finally ended.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
So why did he suddenly feel like he couldn't breathe?
Behind him, the balcony doors opened with a quiet creak.
Harry smiled to himself.
"I had a feeling you'd follow."
There was a soft chuckle.
"And here I thought I was being subtle."
Harry turned.
Draco stepped outside, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers. The lights spilling through the ballroom windows caught the sharp lines of his suit, making him look almost unfairly elegant.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Draco moved to stand beside him, looking out over the city.
"It gets loud in there," Harry said.
"It does."
"I needed some air."
Draco nodded once.
"So did I."
Silence settled comfortably between them.
Below, enchanted streetlamps reflected off the rain-slicked streets, while distant thunder rolled somewhere beyond the city.
Harry stole a glance at Draco.
He looked... relaxed.
More relaxed than Harry had ever seen him.
"You've been enjoying yourself tonight."
Draco looked sideways at him.
"Have I?"
"You know you have."
"In what way?"
Harry huffed out a quiet laugh.
"You've been impossible."
"I usually am."
"No."
Harry shook his head, smiling despite himself.
"You've been flirting with me all evening."
Draco's expression remained perfectly innocent.
"Flirting?"
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I haven't the faintest idea."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"You knew exactly what you were doing."
"The comments."
"The smirking."
"The way you kept looking at me every time I looked away."
Draco tilted his head ever so slightly.
"So you noticed."
Harry froze.
"...Maybe."
A slow smile spread across Draco's face.
"I thought you weren't looking."
Harry sighed dramatically.
"I walked right into that one."
"You usually do."
Harry laughed, shaking his head.
"I preferred you when you weren't so smug."
"I've always been smug."
"Not like this."
"No?"
Draco pushed himself away from the balustrade.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He took a single step towards Harry.
Harry instinctively straightened.
Then another.
Close enough now that Harry could make out every shade of grey in Draco's eyes.
Close enough to catch the familiar scent of cedarwood and bergamot.
Harry's heartbeat betrayed him immediately.
"Draco..."
"Hm?"
"This is exactly what I mean."
"And what exactly is that?"
"Flirting."
Draco held his gaze for a long moment.
Then one corner of his mouth lifted.
Without breaking eye contact, he leaned closer.
Harry forgot how to breathe.
Draco stopped just beside him, close enough that Harry could feel the warmth of his breath against his ear.
His voice dropped to little more than a whisper.
"Oh, Potter..."
A tiny pause.
"My flirting can be so much better than what you call this."
Harry's entire body seemed to short-circuit.
Every coherent thought vanished.
He stared straight ahead at the city lights, completely unable to form a single sentence.
Draco lingered for just a heartbeat longer before stepping back again, looking as composed as though nothing had happened.
Harry, meanwhile, was certain his face had never been this warm.
Draco studied him with poorly concealed amusement.
"I believe," he said smoothly, "I've made my point."
Harry finally managed to look at him.
"...You're insufferable."
"So I've been told."
"You planned that."
"I may have."
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"I hate you."
"No," Draco said softly.
"You don't."
The teasing smile faded, replaced by something gentler.
Something more vulnerable.
"Tell me honestly, Harry..."
His voice was quiet now.
"Would you like me to stop?"
Harry searched Draco's face.
For the first time that evening, the confidence was still there...
...but beneath it was genuine uncertainty.
Harry stepped forward until barely any space remained between them.
"No."
His answer came without hesitation.
"I'd like you to keep going."
For a moment, Draco simply looked at him.
Then, slowly, a real smile spread across his face.
The same smile that had started everything.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Harry's quiet admission still hung between them.
"I'd like you to keep going."
Draco held his gaze.
Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"So noted."
Harry laughed, finally finding his voice again.
"I hate how smug you look."
"You don't."
"I really do."
"No," Draco said, his voice far too confident. "You really don't."
Harry opened his mouth to argue.
Before he could, a voice called from inside the ballroom.
"Malfoy!"
Both of them turned.
One of the event organisers stood in the doorway, looking mildly panicked.
"We're ready for your speech."
Draco closed his eyes for the briefest moment.
"Perfect timing."
Harry couldn't hide his grin.
"Saved by the Ministry."
"I'm beginning to think they're conspiring against me."
The organiser looked between them.
"Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco sighed dramatically.
"I'm coming."
Before stepping back inside, he looked at Harry once more.
"I'd stay..."
He straightened the cuff of his jacket.
"...but apparently I have responsibilities."
Harry folded his arms.
"Tragic."
"It truly is."
Draco took a step backwards towards the ballroom doors.
"I'll try not to make eye contact with you during the speech."
Harry frowned.
"Why?"
Another infuriatingly confident smile appeared.
"Because you'll blush."
Harry felt his ears immediately grow warm.
"I will not."
"We both know you will."
With that, Draco disappeared back inside, leaving Harry alone on the balcony.
"...Arrogant bastard," Harry muttered.
The ballroom erupted into polite applause as Draco stepped onto the stage.
Harry slipped back inside just in time to see him thanking the previous speaker before taking his place behind the podium.
The room quieted almost instantly.
Harry wasn't sure when Draco had become such a confident public speaker.
Perhaps he always had been.
He spoke clearly.
Calmly.
Without once looking at his notes.
His sleeves were still perfectly buttoned.
His tie sat flawlessly beneath the collar of his crisp white shirt.
Every now and then, the corner of his mouth lifted into that familiar smile.
Harry barely heard a single word.
Instead, he found himself watching the way Draco rested one hand lightly against the podium.
The easy confidence in his posture.
The quiet authority in his voice.
Merlin.
This was getting ridiculous.
"You're staring again."
Harry nearly dropped his glass.
Ron appeared beside him with an expression that suggested he'd been enjoying this far too much.
"I'm not."
Ron looked towards the stage.
Then back at Harry.
"You absolutely are."
Harry sighed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've smiled more during Malfoy's speech than during Kingsley's."
"...Kingsley's speech was about budget allocations."
"And?"
Harry deadpanned.
"I don't fancy Kingsley."
Ron blinked.
Harry blinked.
Both of them stared at each other.
"...I didn't mean"
Ron burst out laughing.
"Oh, that's brilliant."
Harry covered his face.
"Don't."
"I'm never letting you live that one down."
By the time the speeches had ended, people immediately surrounded Draco.
Department Heads.
Council members.
Foreign delegates.
Everyone seemed determined to congratulate him.
Harry watched from across the room.
He wasn't jealous.
Not exactly.
He just...
Wanted five uninterrupted minutes.
Apparently, so did Draco.
After politely escaping yet another conversation, Draco finally caught Harry's eye across the ballroom.
Without a word, he lifted two fingers.
A silent gesture.
Come with me.
Harry frowned.
Curious, he slipped away from the crowd and followed Draco through a side corridor, away from the music and laughter.
Neither of them spoke.
They walked through the Ministry's quiet marble halls before emerging onto a riverside terrace overlooking the Thames.
The city shimmered across the water, thousands of lights reflecting against the slow-moving current.
The sounds of the gala faded behind them until all that remained was the distant rush of the river.
Draco loosened his tie with one hand.
The top button of his shirt disappeared beneath relaxed fingers.
For the first time that evening, he looked tired.
Human.
Harry smiled.
"I was wondering when you'd stop looking so annoyingly perfect."
Draco glanced sideways at him.
"I've been wearing this tie for six hours."
"You still look annoyingly perfect."
"Hm."
A faint smile appeared.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Harry laughed.
"You planned this?"
"I planned very little tonight."
Draco leaned against the stone railing overlooking the water.
"The speech was supposed to be the difficult part."
"And was it?"
"No."
Harry looked at him.
"What was?"
Draco turned fully towards him.
"You."
Harry forgot how to breathe.
"I spent the entire evening pretending I wasn't looking for you every time I walked into a room."
His confession was quiet.
Almost amused.
"I kept telling myself I'd finish the speech first."
Another step.
"I'd thank the guests."
Another.
"I'd smile politely."
Harry's pulse hammered in his ears.
"And then..."
Draco stopped only inches away.
"...I'd come and find you."
Harry searched his face.
The teasing was gone.
The cocky grin.
The smug remarks.
All of it had disappeared.
Leaving only Draco.
"If I'd stayed in that ballroom any longer..."
His voice had softened.
"...I would've kissed you in front of half the Ministry."
Harry let out a breathless laugh.
"I think that would've made tomorrow's gossip far more interesting."
"It certainly would've."
Silence settled between them.
Comfortable.
Heavy.
Filled with everything neither of them had said until now.
Draco's eyes searched Harry's for a long moment.
"You've been driving me mad."
Harry smiled.
"Me?"
"You."
"The constant staring."
"I wasn't constantly staring."
"The smiling every time I smiled."
Harry looked down, unable to hide his grin.
"The way you noticed every little change."
Harry shrugged.
"I liked seeing you happy."
Something flickered across Draco's face.
Warm.
Almost disbelieving.
"No one has ever said that to me before."
Harry met his eyes again.
"Then they're idiots."
Draco laughed softly.
A real laugh.
The one Harry had been chasing since the morning he'd walked straight into a stone pillar.
"Harry..."
"Hm?"
Draco reached up slowly, giving Harry every opportunity to step away.
Instead, Harry leaned in.
Just slightly.
It was all the answer Draco needed.
Their first kiss was gentle.
Unhurried.
Neither of them rushed it.
It was simply two people who had spent weeks dancing around something they had both been too careful to name.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together.
Harry smiled.
"There it is."
Draco frowned faintly.
"What?"
"That smile."
Draco laughed again.
"You really are obsessed with it."
Harry couldn't even pretend to deny it.
"Yeah."
"I am."
Draco shook his head fondly before stealing one last, softer kiss.
"I'm starting to think..."
Harry smiled against his lips.
"...it was worth walking into that pillar after all."
Draco chuckled.
"I was wondering how long it would take before you blamed architecture for this."
Harry laughed.
"No."
He looked into Draco's eyes.
"It wasn't the pillar."
"It was you."
And for the rest of the evening...
Draco Malfoy never stopped smiling.