Chapter 1
Harry Potter strode through the bustling halls of the Ministry of Magic, his cloak billowing behind him. Heads turned, whispers followed, but he barely noticed anymore. Nearly a decade had passed since the war ended, and still, people acted as if he might sprout wings and rescue them from paperwork.
Harry didn't rescue anyone these days—unless you counted saving his department from collapsing under its own incompetence. As Head Auror, he practically lived at the Ministry, drowning in reports and dodging diplomatic crises. Today, though, even he was running late.
"Morning, Draco," Harry said briskly as he passed the pale-haired wizard standing by his office door.
Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow, glancing at his pocket watch. "Morning? It's half past eleven, Potter. Or do you only honor punctuality when there's a Dark Lord involved?"
Harry paused, sighing. "Do you have those reports on the Blackthorn smuggling case?"
Draco handed him a neat stack of parchment, his expression a perfect mask of disdain. "Finished last night, as usual. Though I doubt you'll read them before your next life-or-death catastrophe."
Harry ignored the jab, grabbing the papers. "Thanks."
"Anytime," Draco replied dryly, already turning back to his own desk.
If someone had told Harry ten years ago that he'd one day hire Draco Malfoy, he'd have laughed them out of the room. But despite his reservations, Draco had proven himself shockingly competent—quick-witted, resourceful, and unflinchingly meticulous. He was also a pain in Harry's arse, but that was beside the point.
By the time Harry made it to his desk, a fresh crisis awaited him. A thick envelope bearing the seal of the Department of Magical Citizenship sat ominously on top of his mountain of paperwork.
He broke the seal and scanned the contents, his frown deepening with each line.
"Shit," he muttered.
Draco's head popped around the corner. "What now?"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Apparently, I'm in violation of the Ministry's new Dual-Residency Compliance Act."
"Catchy name."
"It means I'm at risk of losing my position because I don't have 'significant familial ties' in the wizarding world," Harry snapped. "They're claiming I'm technically a foreign citizen because my parents' estate is still tied to Godric's Hollow, which is under ancient jurisdiction."
Draco blinked. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"Welcome to my life."
Draco folded his arms. "Surely they're not serious. You're the bloody Chosen One. What are they going to do, fire you?"
Harry tossed the letter on his desk. "Apparently, yes. Unless I can prove my ties. They're looking for spouses, Malfoy, not house-elves."
There was a beat of silence before Draco spoke, his voice tinged with amusement. "You don't mean to tell me that you—Saint Potter, poster boy for the wizarding world—don't have a romantic partner stashed somewhere?"
Harry glared at him. "If I did, do you think I'd be dealing with this right now?"
Draco smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Well, this is embarrassing."
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but he stopped short, a thought forming. It was reckless, absurd, and possibly illegal—but it might just work.
"Malfoy," Harry said slowly, "how do you feel about marriage?"
Draco blinked, his smirk vanishing. "Excuse me?"
Harry straightened, the gears turning in his mind. "A marriage of convenience. Purely for paperwork. You'd be compensated, of course, and—"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish!"
"No, Potter, because whatever this idiotic plan is, it sounds like the beginning of a tabloid headline, and I refuse to be the footnote in your next public disaster."
Harry stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You don't get it. If I lose my job, you lose yours too. The department collapses without me."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"
"It's reality," Harry said bluntly. "And it's not like you'd have to actually marry me. Just pretend long enough for the paperwork to go through."
Draco stared at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Harry thought he might hex him. But then, to Harry's utter surprise, Draco laughed—a short, sharp sound.
"This," Draco said, shaking his head, "is absolutely insane. But... I'll consider it."
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you."
Draco held up a hand. "On one condition."
"Name it."
"I'm in charge of the engagement party."
Harry blinked. "Engagement party?"
Draco smirked. "If I'm going to fake being your fiancé, Potter, we're doing it properly. Merlin help us both."