Drabbles

Time was but a social construct — just one more thing to complain about — when it came to Auror work. Shifts cycled throughout every hour, ensuring there was always coverage — villains didn’t strike during only business hours, after all.

Harry had pulled a night shift, again. He wouldn’t mind it, except that it meant his wife was home alone.

Again.

Hermione was very understanding of his schedule — she, too, worked ridiculous hours — but he regretted the time apart. They’d been drifting, infinitesimally, like two boats roped to the same shore of shifting sands, and he was getting a little desperate about finding a way to strengthen the mooring.

But, duty came first. He shoved his hand through his hair as he stared down at the paperwork on his desk, half complete and the only thing standing between him and an even more monotonous shift. He wished someone would happen to make the night go by faster — being stagnant always made his skin itch. A shuffle of activity at the entrance to the department garnered his attention, and then he regretted his wish for something to break his monotony because Draco Malfoy had arrived, adding a second soul to the otherwise empty room.

He’d somehow managed to never be assigned an undesirable shift — and wasn’t scheduled for tonight’s — so Harry’s first thought when the tall, blonde man approached was that of concern. He smothered it.

“Potter.” Draco sent a half-grin his direction as he strode forward to stand in front of Harry’s desk.

“Malfoy. What is it?” Harry did his best to maintain professionalism, both because they were coworkers and because, as officer on duty, it was his responsibility to mitigate concerns brought to him. Even if, in this case, the bringer of the potential concern was a concern in and of himself.

Draco leaned a hip against the edge of Harry’s desk. “Oh, nothing,” he said indifferently. “Just had a shag and felt like a chat.”

Something flared in Harry’s chest. He smothered it.

“Not interested, thanks.” He scribbled a few words on the paperwork, a meaningless phrase but the best he could come up with.

“I think you might find it very interesting, actually.” Draco toyed with a model Snitch on Harry’s desk. Harry resisted slapping the hand away.

“Why’s that?”

Draco hummed a little sound, curious but tricksome. “Perhaps you know the little romanticism of drinking from the same place that someone else’s lips have, to achieve the barest suggestion of a kiss?”

Harry frowned at his paperwork. He hadn’t expected something like that to come out of cocksure, absolute-rakish-dickhead Malfoy’s mouth. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Good. Then you’ll understand me when I say that your wife is a gorgeous vessel for a sip.”

The words curled through the air, half-corporeal, like the touch of a ghost. Unbidden, Harry shivered. Draco hummed a knowing sound.

“You’re a bastard,” Harry grit out. Draco chuckled but didn’t refute it. “What, you’re claiming you…with Hermione?” Harry tried to parse his words for any other meaning.

“Mmm.” Draco looked entirely unapologetic. “She was quite happy to serve, if you get my meaning.”

Harry’s first instinct was to not believe a word of it, but then he thought about those two ships again, bobbing on different swells and riding out the waves of life in parallel. Never quite intersecting. Not for so long.

“Right. Well.” Harry puffed out a breath. He found himself more furious with Malfoy than Hermione, or perhaps it was just that Malfoy was here, flaunting his role in the adultery.

But then the implication of the words registered. Harry paused.

“Did you mean it?” He looked up to find Draco watching him for a reaction, a little furrow between his brows at Harry’s lack of one.

“Mean what?”

“What you said. About the kissing.”

A brow rose. “Which kissing?” But then the edge of Draco’s mouth curled up to join the brow. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. I meant what I said about it all.”

If Draco was implying that Hermione was the vessel, then the lips…the body…that he was pretending to kiss was… Harry stood. Draco maintained his composure outwardly except for a little flinch of his hand around the Snitch. Harry slapped the hand away, finally, and Draco’s eyes cut up to his, warning but somehow also…welcoming.

“Time to get you back for it then,” Harry said evenly, rounding the desk.

“I’m not married,” Draco said, eyeing him. “So you can’t get me back for it.”

“A little revenge, then.” Harry used a firm grip to turn Draco, pushing him forward until Draco’s hands hit the wooden work surface. Harry bit his lip at the unholy sight of Draco Malfoy bent over his desk in front of him.

“A punishment?” Draco laughed, a little strained but still cocky. “This doesn’t feel like a punishment.”

Harry breathed out a slow, controlled breath and ran his hand down Draco’s back, watching the strong body shift beneath the always immaculate clothing. He couldn’t wait to properly ruin it.

“It will.”