#you thought i'd forgotten abou the pixies didn't you

[professordrarry]

Prompt: Drarry Person 1- “that’s not what you told me the other day/night.” Person 2- “Okay, well, it’s what I’m telling you now.”

#ministry chaos, part seven

For the first time in all his time in the city, Draco is glad that he lives in London. There are few places where a curry could arrive at your door at midnight, unquestioned and as delicious as at a more appropriate time. Potter had not been kidding about starving; he didn’t even have a few stale crackers shoved in the back of a cupboard.

They ate sitting up in Harry’s bed. Later, Draco would probably find this gross. Right now, he was not really up for a discussion of anything that involved leaving the warm comfort of this miniature world they had suddenly entered.

Harry was not wearing a shirt. All other conversations could wait.

Harry had grown suddenly shy in the late hours of the afternoon. Sleep had engulfed them both, and apparently, waking up had rumpled and unsettled the man - whose eyes, Draco noted, were a more complex golden green when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“This is truly terrible food,” Draco muttered through a mouthful of naan.

Harry laughed. “Pickings were slim. Shut up. I would have had food if someone hadn’t finally decided to grow a pair.”

“I’ll have you know, I liked you first.” Draco glared at Harry, who just smiled in response.

“Whatever, pretty boy.”

“How dare you,” Draco teased. “Calling me pretty, with those fucking eyes.”

Harry laughed again and threw his food container on the nightstand. He collapsed back onto his pillow and shifted to stare at Draco.

“You still think you’re no good for me, huh?” he asked quietly.

“I think we’re no good for each other,” Draco replied, pushing food around with his fork. “Also, I don’t mean to make this…you know, awkward and everything but—”

“If you’re going to tell me you don’t want to keep doing this, would you mind waiting until you aren’t in my bed? Like, tomorrow even.”

Draco looked at Harry expecting to find him joking. Instead, he found a vulnerability that broke his heart. “Silly man,” Draco said, putting aside his own dinner and shuffling down under the covers until he was face to face with Harry. “I just wanted to say. I won’t do casual. I’m terribly jealous and kind of an asshole, and I’m far too old to not just admit that. So I don’t know what you want from me now that I’ve finally done you’re little ‘push you up against a wall’ thing, but…anyway.”

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He was not normally this shy; Potter discombobulated him and it should probably be more of a warning sign to him than it was.

Suddenly, a kiss was placed gently on his nose. “Technically it was a door,” Harry whispered. “I am a thirty-one-year-old divorced dad of three. Do you really think I want casual?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know. We’re only in this mess because I screwed a couple of — oh, shut up Harry. Merlin, you’re worse than Pansy.”

“Well, you’re the one who just used the word ‘screwed’,” Harry replied, shuffling back and standing up. He picked up both containers of food and started to walk out of the room. “It’s late and you should stay. There’s a new toothbrush under the sink. You smell like curry.”

“So do you!” he called after a chuckling Harry. Still, a grin stuck itself firmly on his face as he wandered to the bathroom.

Saturday morning found Draco warm and cosy and unwilling to move for anything; the blanket was the perfect weight and Harry, though not quite touching him, radiated just enough heat to be a steady presence.

Ron Weasley, on the other hand, seemed to have decided this was unacceptable. At approximately nine that very morning, the fireplace in the corner of Harry Potter’s large bedroom flared with green light and a large, red-headed man stepped into the room in full Auror regalia.

“We’ve solved the pixie mystery,” he announced loudly, startling Harry bolt-upright. “You two both need to get into the Ministry, right now. There’s a debrief in Malfoy’s office in fifteen minutes.”

“Um, Ron?” Harry wheezed.

“Yes, I have in fact noticed that Draco Malfoy is half-naked and in you’re bed at nine in the morning, Harry. I am after all an Auror,” Ron snapped. “And normally, I’d be mortified and leaving to go and scrub my own eyes out with the business end of a toothbrush. But right now, I mean it. You both need to get up and get going right now.”

“Yes, well, Auror Weasley,” Draco interrupted. “We are more than happy to comply. But I suspect Harry’s protests here are more related to the fact that we are not half-naked.”

Ron blushed the deepest shade of scarlet Draco had ever seen and immediately whirled around to face the fire. “Right, um, erm, yeah. I’ll just. I’ll sort myself. I’ll…see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Harry laughed.

They stepped into Draco’s office in the midst of complete and total anarchy. Every Minister in the department was crammed into the too-small space and were all, it seemed, trying to speak at once. They both watched for a moment before Harry cleared his throat very pointedly. Miraculously, everyone fell silent a moment later, and the crackle of sheer power was back in full force; Draco had to look away. The idea of seeing that energy in Potter? Well.

They were at work.

“Sorry to interrupt, but this is Mr Malfoy, and as we are standing in his office, I feel it would be prudent to get him up to speed, don’t you think, Ministers?”

Ron stood up from where he had been leaning on Draco’s replacement desk and proceeded to explain the situation. As he spoke, Harry became more and more incredulous, and Draco had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Ron, just. Stop there for a moment,” Harry finally interrupted, holding up a hand. “You mean to tell me that all nine—nine—of these pixie infiltrations over the past six months—which, may I just remind you, have been under investigation by no fewer than four departments of dark magic. Those attacks can all be attributed to an infestation of fucking woodlice?!”

“Unfortunately,” Ron nodded. “Yes.”

“And furthermore,” Harry said, his voice reaching a whole new level of volume that sent a shiver down Draco’s spine. “That the Ministry has been aware of the problem for well over a year?”

“It would seem that way,” Ron agreed. “I only discovered the issue because my new desk fell apart all of a sudden. The Pixies were just attracted to the offices because they eat them.”

Harry, as everyone could see, was furious. He whirled around and began advancing, ever so slowly, on one, small, bald man, who seemed to already know what was coming for him.

“I should hope that such a monumental oversight,” Harry growled. “Of the sort that has paused Ministry transfer requests and halted budgets, warrants a full investigation, Minister Crowly.” The small man nodded vigorously. “I also expect full compensation for the three months of lost pay for all those whose requests were unduly delayed,” Harry added, spinning on his heel.

“Now. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. Auror Weasley and his wife, and Mr Malfoy and I have a very important brunch to expense on company time.”

With that, Potter waltzed from the office in a full billowing of robes; Draco beamed at the stunned Ministry officials and Ron saluted as they both followed Harry out of the office.

“I take it back,” Ron said as they all took the stairs two at a time. “You may continue to sleep with my best friend.”

“That’s not what you said the other day,” Harry laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m saying it now,” Ron replied. “That was fucking brilliant. I’ve been waiting for you to tell off Crowly for years!”

“How is that because of me?” Draco grinned, catching Harry’s hand in his own.

“Whatever, mate, I know what I know.” Ron grinned and flung an arm across Harry’s shoulders. They made for a rather cumbersome trio of grown ass men cackling their way out of the Ministry building. “I can’t wait to tell Hermione!”

The End