DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Mendacity, with my thanks for the many kind reviews. Enjoy!

The Office-part 2…by Samayel

Draco Malfoy returned to England by Portkey, having spent the past three weeks hashing out the details of internationally accepted wizarding law with the emissaries of a former Soviet bloc nation. The entire affair had been thoroughly exhausting, and in his own not-so-humble opinion, unnecessary. Although it had been many years since their relative independence had been achieved, there seemed to be a state of near constant chaos surrounding their national identity and borders.

i'These people! I swear! They change the name of their country every time a leader gets the sniffles. Some of the most historic events in the history of Europe took place in their backyards, but no!, they can't just abide by the treaties they had last month, they need to draft new ones to reflect the change of philosophy that comes with changing their name! Unbelievable!'/i

He was only supposed to have been gone for a week. One bloody week! Instead, he was two weeks overdue getting home. Not that he didn't have elves to look after the manor, but he had a life of his own and he meant to be living it. He hadn't seen Harry in three weeks. Three!

That was the part that had worn on him the most. It wasn't as if they were an 'item', but over the past half year, Harry had become the centerpiece of Draco's life away from home. It was always interesting, and always fun. Harry didn't seem to mind that Draco was sometimes overly critical of…well…almost everything. Harry didn't mind trying new things now and again. They'd been to theatres, Muggle and wizarding alike, dined at restaurants by the score, made jaunts to museums and places of uncommon natural beauty, and generally just made a good time of every opportunity they had. He'd even dragged Harry along to see 'La Boheme'. Maybe opera wasn't quite for Harry, but it had still been a good time.

Every weekend was something new, even if it was at home. Harry…HARRY!…had dined at Malfoy Manor several times. Draco had eventually sat down in Harry's kitchen and enjoyed a baked pasta dish and garlic bread. It wasn't the stuff of kings, but he'd had excellent company and a passable bottle of wine with the meal. All tolled, it had been a fine time, just like every time he'd spent with Harry. It wasn't as if he lacked discretion. When it really counted, he knew when not to pick things apart…most of the time.

Sure, Harry argued and vented and occasionally called him out when Draco made comments that perhaps crossed the boundary of good taste, but the man was refreshingly honest and straightforward, and there was something wonderful about being able to speak directly and without pretense for once. Given Draco's own rather sorry state the last decade or so, the difference that Harry had made was amazing, and Draco would surrender many things in pursuit of a work goal, but, by all the gods, he would not surrender the time he spent with Harry for anything. Last year he wouldn't have given a damn if he spent three weeks in the middle of Outer Crapistan arguing with a handful of irate, middle-aged men about tiny differences of legal opinion, but now…now his time had a value again.

Harry had owled him back just a few days after Draco confirmed his upcoming departure time. It would be dinner at Harry's tonight. Simple fare to one of Draco's rather advanced tastes, but made by Harry, who, when he tried, was actually a very good cook. The recipes and sides had grown more daring and non-traditional over these past six months, since Harry's ego would never allow him to be scorned for a lack of ability in the kitchen. Draco had careful mingled his critiques with honest compliments, making sure that Harry still felt challenged, but was at least comforted in knowing that he wasn't failing entirely. The results had been very pleasant indeed, allowing Draco to enjoy some dishes that he would have never imagined the scruffy lout preparing in a million years. The crisp asparagus sautéed in butter and bacon fat had been just divine.

He was a rather nice scruffy lout. Even with the god awful Guinness…and the hideous Gryffindor colors in his apartment. It was a shame the man wasn't gay…or just open to experimentation. The subject had been hinted at more than a few times, with Draco quickly steering the conversation carefully toward safer waters as soon as Harry made it clear that he didn't swing that way. Harry hadn't shown the slightest interest in anything remotely like a physical relationship, and it rankled sometimes, but who could really complain about a thing like that when the man obviously enjoyed Draco's company and put forth so much visible effort to build a new friendship with an old rival?

That didn't change much for Draco, who had noticed the subtle improvements in his life in general as well as his outlook. He drank alone quite a bit less these days, as did Harry, and he left behind the manor and elves at least twice a week, and occasionally more, always with Harry. He corresponded with others a bit more, like Snape, who was in Barcelona, patronized by some Count or another, or Zabini, who was still a decent mate after all these years, and was living in Sicily now. What hadn't changed was his sex life…or lack thereof.

If he had his way, Harry would never know how much he wanted the ridiculous pillock. Pansy hadn't lied to the papers about that one thing. She knew him well, through school and after, and she knew his best kept secrets as no other ever had. Naturally, in true Slytherin fashion, she used those secrets against him when the time was right. Draco was at peace with his own preferences. After all, he was a grown man and a Malfoy…self-delusion was for the weak, and for those who lacked ambition. It was a fatal flaw, and one that, in the days of the Dark Lord, could easily have cost a person his life, and Draco had had just enough experience in life and loss to know better now.

Truthfully, he was bisexual, with a very modest preference for men. He found women attractive to be sure, but for some fickle reason, fate had conspired to make him feel a greater attraction and more of a sense of intimacy with other men. Not that he had vast experience, but he was self aware enough to know his own mind, and each of the few men he'd known had moved him in ways no woman ever had.

His reputation hadn't needed any more tarnish after the war, and he'd only had a couple of discreet encounters with gentlemen overseas since the divorce, but he had no intention of subjecting himself to any further indignity in the papers here at home if he could help it. There were already enough rude gossip columns about his periodic appearances beside Harry in public. Harry had been so very good about it all. Being seen in public with Draco had dredged up the old rumors about Draco's sexuality, which Harry knew full well were true. When the press made sly implications about their 'friendship', Draco had been mortified, but Harry had been completely calm, and had assured Draco in his own loutish way that he 'couldn't possibly give a flying fuck what the sorry bastards thought one way or the other', and that had been that.

Silly as it sounded, Harry's staunch refusal to worry over his reputation, or what Draco's company could do to it, had been the highest praise Draco had ever received. In thirty-three years of life, with the exception of nine months on his mother's part, not one person had ever inconvenienced themselves at their own cost for Draco's sake without demanding something in return. It was a vaguely saddening thing to realize, but it was made less so by the knowledge that someone had finally done it.

If only the sweet bastard were queer.

Draco let a deep sigh go while he changed out of his work robes and into more casual garb. Harry's place for supper, a bottle of Bordeaux from the Malfoy wine cellar (and two bottles of respectable table wine for after the meal), and an evening of decent company were finally to be his, and after three weeks of pure drivel, it was hard to be upset over a little thing like that.

Harry put the finishing touches on the roast, basting some of the juices back over the meat, then sprinkled fresh spices onto the surface, before placing the dish back into the oven. He'd rather missed his meals with Draco these last few weeks. He didn't envy Draco his job, even though he loathed his own. Last week he'd dodged yet another browbeating session with Scrimgeour, who still periodically tried to get Harry to make public appearances. Almost fifteen years, and the relentless bastard hadn't given up on his dream of transforming Harry into the spokesperson for every decision the Ministry made. In truth, Harry couldn't have cared less, and went to great lengths to avoid being dragged back into the spotlight again.

This didn't completely erode the desire of certain members of the press to throw his name around when they needed a juicy rumor to beef up circulation. They'd certainly jumped on his being seen about town with Draco fast enough. Not that he minded, since bad press was old hat to Harry, but poor Draco had been mortified. It didn't matter what the press said. Harry was perfectly secure in his manhood, and if Draco was gay then that was just fine. He was also a good friend and had proved it time and again the past few months. Just because Harry clearly preferred the company of women, that didn't mean he couldn't have a friend who was gay.

It was unnerving sometimes, but not unpleasant. Like the time that waiter blatantly flirted with Draco, while Harry was sitting right there across from them. Not that he was Draco's boyfriend or anything like that, but what if he had been? It was just incredibly rude of someone to act that way, barging in on what was so clearly a quiet meal between friends!

Or the time Draco had gotten soaked in the rain after Apparating directly to Harry's doorstep, unaware of the downpour in London that day. The man had been drenched in seconds before he could spell a shield up to block the rain, and either needed to spell himself clean, dry and styled again, or just use Harry's shower and clothes for a bit. That had been the simplest answer, but it had led to one terribly ticklish moment. Harry had forgotten to leave a large bath towel for Draco, and when the man had finished with a brief, warm shower to beat the chill, he'd headed for Harry's bedroom to change…wearing only a short towel.

As blokes went, given that Harry was no expert on the subject, Draco had been put together pretty well. Long, lean legs, strong hips, a narrow waist, and a back that was smooth as ivory, ending with broad shoulders and a slim and graceful neck. At thirty-three, Draco had a body most men a decade younger would envy. That was all it was. Envy. There was nothing wrong with looking at a guy who was in excellent shape and thinking, 'Hey, I wish I had a body like that.' That was all it was. Nothing more. Since then, of course, Harry had opened the wards of his apartment to Draco, so that a good friend could come and go as he pleased.

Moments like that aside, the man was just good company, and a good friend. Harry had seen his daily life improve in so many little ways since they'd become friends, and his outlook on life was quite a bit brighter these days. They'd noticed in the office, and Ron and Hermione had noticed as well. Harry got out more, kept his house well, took much better care of himself, and even if he often missed his children and treasured their letters, he wasn't wallowing in self pity all the time now. Yes, Draco had put a bit of the spring back in his step, and Harry was grateful for it. Ron and Hermione couldn't figure it out, but if Harry was content with the situation, they were willing to follow his lead.

Ron and Hermione Weasley had surprised everyone by stopping at two children, since Weasleys were famous for, as Draco had put it, 'spawning like blowflies on dead meat'. One very harsh look from Harry and that had been the last comment about the Weasleys. Well, almost. Draco could mock their hair and freckles and what not, but certain subjects were taboo, and the last few months had helped them sort out what was and was not appropriate to say in front of each other.

To be fair, in one of their brief spats, Harry had angrily brought up Lucius, and Draco had turned white, and then crimson, and then refused to speak in anything but monosyllables for the rest of the evening. Harry had swallowed his pride and apologized, and the matter had been brushed over, but he hadn't forgotten that, in spite of everything, Draco had a love for his family that hadn't been changed by their involvement with the Dark Lord. Insulting the man's dead parents had been wrong no matter how you looked at it, and Harry may have sometimes been a fool, but he very rarely made the same mistake twice.

Draco's letters from afar had been treats these last few weeks, and the increasingly irritable tone had been obvious as his departure continued to move farther and farther into the next month. As strange as it may have seemed, Draco's last owl post had been the high point of Harry's week, and he'd planned a decent meal for the two of them immediately after Draco's return.

Not that the past weeks had been without events for Harry. Jamie had broken both arms playing Quidditch two weeks ago, after attempting a modified Wronski feint while too low to the ground. If he'd been higher up, a hasty spell might have cushioned his fall, but the boy had struck the earth at full speed. Despite the flutter in his heart when he read the news from Hogwarts, and the accompanying pangs of sorrow about being so far away, Harry had smiled just a little at the realization that Jamie was very like his father, despite the limited time they were able to spend together. The damage had been healed quickly enough, since without a bumbling DADA professor to botch the healing, Jamie's bones were quickly set and healed, and he was back in classes and on the pitch in a matter of hours.

Lily was in her first year at Hogwarts, and had sent letter after letter, each full of stories about people and places that Harry had once known well. They were wonderful to hear from his daughter's perspective, making memories suddenly come to life as never before. She'd nearly fainted when Nearly Headless Nick had tipped hat and head at her, and despite her apparent fondness for History, Professor Binns had sapped the interest from yet another student. Lily liked Herbology and Divinations, as well as Care of Magical Creatures, which was still taught by Hagrid, whom she adored.

Draco never seemed to mind when Harry spoke of his children, though Harry had often wondered if Draco found the subject painful, given the fact that he almost never saw his own daughter. Draco seemed to enjoy the stories from Hogwarts, and the brightness of his eyes while Harry recited passages from his children's letters made it clear that he was genuinely interested. Perhaps, in the absence of his own child, Draco lived a bit vicariously through Harry's stories, and if that gave Draco a bit of happiness, then so much the better.

A muffled crack marked arrival by Apparition, and Harry put his musings aside.

"The whole of Eastern Europe is a frustrating mess, I haven't had a decent meal since I left, Pansy is still a fiendish, satanic bitch-cow and I pray for her maiming by some heretofore unknown disfiguring ailment, the only alcohol I could get was local swill, I'm still lagged over from traveling so far in one day, and…"

Harry looked up from the salad he was preparing when Draco paused. There was a bottle of wine in one hand and it looked both old and good, and there was a small cluster of roses and some more wine in the other hand. Harry raised an eyebrow and waited for the end of the rant.

"…and the best part of the last three weeks is getting to come home to this. Thank you, Harry. You're a gentleman in barbarous times. Enjoy the roses. I thought it was high time I proved that green can, in fact, go well with red. Don't let the lesson in that be lost on you. These won't be butchered easily by your 'black thumb of death' either. They're from the gardens at home. Narcissa Malfoy's own enchanted roses. They'll hold their vitality and scent for weeks before the magic fades."

Harry smirked mildly. He'd grown used to Draco's rather back-handed compliments, and to be completely truthful, he had rather missed them the last few weeks.

"You're entirely welcome. Good to see you again, too. The roses are great, and you have my sworn word that I'll do my best not to mangle them. Sounds as if you've had a tough time of it, so get rid of that coat and seat yourself. Dinner's almost done, and that wine looks older than the both of us together. Must be worth a small fortune. I'm honored just to be at the table with it."

Draco waggled an eyebrow while he handed off the roses and placed the wine on the table. As soon as he'd shrugged away his coat, he took his usual seat and pulled the cork on the wine. Harry already had glasses handy, and Draco promptly filled both of them.

"You're far more astute than the average Gryffindor. Not that that takes much, but it's still true. This was bottled when Albus Dumbledore was defeating Grindelwald. One thing Pansy didn't take was the wine cellar, and the estate has some exceptional vintages tucked away down there, just begging to see a table and a good occasion. I can't honestly imagine a better occasion than a good meal with a good friend, but I could imagine a better table. Really, Harry, you must let me take you shopping for some new furniture. This place could do with a bit of a makeover, even if you do keep it up well enough on your own."

Harry set the salads on the table. The roast would be done just about the time they finished this first course, and he took his seat and his glass of wine with a grin.

"I see a few weeks on the continent hasn't changed you a bit. Any noteworthy events from your travels? Just so you know, I'm not refusing the idea of new furniture or changing the topic, but we can get back to it later."

Draco sipped the wine deeply, eyes closed for a few seconds, then spoke more candidly.

"Pansy was on a short vacation with Cissy just a few hundred miles away. By the time I arranged a short visit and she consented to it, I was feeling pretty chipper for a man stuck in a social vortex of an embassy and surrounded by angry, middle-aged men who imagined plots everywhere. I made it to Budapest in time to get a 'polite' note at the hotel desk. Just a 'manufactured emergency' I'm sure. Perfectly designed to tease me into hope before smashing it on the rocks. Pans really does our old house proud…the bloody miserable tart. But of course, I'm not the least bit bitter."

Draco was obviously holding most of it in while dropping the heavy hint that he wanted a bit of comforting and peace. Harry had figured out more than a few of Draco's habits out in the last half year, and one of the most common was Draco's slightly annoying knack for acting unconcerned and distant from a problem while expecting others to notice that he wasn't happy. Perhaps it was a bit juvenile for a grown man to subtly imply a need for attention rather than just ask for it, but Draco had his quirks, and Harry had rather enjoyed puzzling them out. What he didn't like was the way Draco continued to drink heavily, despite making so many other improvements in his life.

Draco almost never suffered hangovers, and his tolerance for alcohol was far higher than Harry's had ever been. When Draco had been a 'new' friend it hadn't seemed important, but as Harry had begun to realize how much he valued Draco's companionship, that issue suddenly took on new meaning.

"Draco. I'm sorry, mate. What's she's doing to you is just wrong. You need to get in the ring again. Sue for the enforcement of your right to visitation. You deserve better than this. Your daughter adores you and you know it. Even if she doesn't know what's going on, she ought to be able to see you more than this. At least see if you could browbeat Pansy into sending Cissy to Hogwarts on the grounds of 'family tradition'. You could strike a chord there that goes beyond just seeing more of her. You said it yourself…Pansy is as Slytherin as Slytherin gets."

Draco rubbed his eyes, still travel lagged, but glad just to be talking to someone that mattered.

"Suing is inot/i an option. This is the least of the stunts she could pull. She's not even angry right now. I have no intention of escalating this into a war, especially since I'm hamstrung by the fact that I love my daughter and wouldn't turn her mother into mulch. Pansy has no such qualms. Besides, Malfoy influence is a thing of the past. My father motivated people with fear and money. What would I even threaten people with? 'Do my bidding! Or I shall redecorate your home…garishly!' You might have a notion on that Hogwarts thing though. If I seem conciliatory enough and kiss her arse until my lips ache, the desire to see her daughter in the house we were schooled in might outweigh the desire to keep Cissy away from me. It actually merits some thought. Hmmph. And people call Gryffindors thick! For one of those who wear the red and gold, you're a subtle creature, Harry. No wonder I can't bring myself to loathe your company."

"I think I can manage to thank you for that…sort of. Care to hear the latest from Hogwarts? My kids have been up to the usual hi-jinks."

"Bloody hell, Harry. You're only thirty three…you're not even old enough to say things like 'hi-jinks'! But go ahead…how are yours doing?"

"Pick apart your salad…prat…not my vocabulary. Jamie broke both arms going for a Wronski feint. He's alright, since Poppy Pomfrey took care of it fast enough, but it gave me a start when I opened that letter."

"Hah! He is so his father's son! Every bit a Potter! Don't tell me! They pried the Snitch out of his hands after the fact! Right?"

Harry blushed with pride. "Well…not quite, this time…but he's been winning games most of the time. Lily has settled in nicely too. Binns is still putting them to sleep like always, Hagrid has them chasing creatures around the lawns, Trelawney is still tipsy and forecasting doom at every turn, Filch finally retired, complaining to the last that he hadn't doled out a decent whipping in too many years, and Peeves the Poltergeist is still raising hell in the halls."

Draco looked a bit wistful. "You know…I miss that. Not the parts you talked about at the pub…those parts. Jamie and Lily are thirteen and eleven, right? I miss that time. I wasn't worried over anything but my reputation and my grades. And my hair. That was all. The rest was just fun and magic. Quidditch and pranks and the usual Slytherin one-upsmanship games. I do miss all that. It was a lot better than negotiating the finer points of Magic Restriction Laws and their application to citizens of countries that have just changed their name for the third time in as many years. The salad is quite good too, by the way. The baby spinach was a nice touch. Too much vinegar in the dressing, but even so…very, very edible."

"Thank you…and I agree. I envy the kids the times they're having now. That really was the best part of it. Of course, I nearly got killed every year, so draw your own conclusions about what I call fun. I'm just glad the kids haven't experienced anything worse than bad falls and a few simple scares. I used to sit up nights worrying that something would happen when Jamie first got there, but I'm doing a lot better these days."

Draco was smiling. "You really are. I missed you, Harry. Rather more than is entirely comfortable to admit."

Harry blushed under that scrutinizing gaze. Draco was usually less forward than that. It was obvious that he liked Harry, and Harry was well aware of it, but it didn't often slip out that he wanted Harry in ways that were more complicated.

"Uh…well…I missed you too. It was dull as death around here and I'm counting on you to liven things back up. The only thing on my social calendar this month is next week's Annual Charitable Fundraising Dinner. It's the only one I ever attend, because I know they actually get almost every cent to the charities they support. Tuitions for poor students, orphanages, all things I can support and still respect myself while using my name. You know I hate that whole black tie crowd, but hell…it's for a worthy cause."

Draco paused, letting the tense moment he'd caused slide away. He'd gotten carried away with himself again. iBad libido! Bad, naughty libido!/i He'd have whacked himself on the nose with a rolled up newspaper if he'd had one handy. Instead he just sipped the wine and took the change of subject in stride.

"So who are you taking this year? I remember the iProphet/i from a few years ago…the one where you took Loony Lovegood. She interrupted the main speaker to correct him and remind the world that funds might be directed toward the 'Save The Crumple-Horned Snorkack Society. Never minding that said society consists of three people, nutters all, and that no such creature has ever been sighted in the history of wizarding kind. Talk about embarrassment!"

Harry bristled. "Hey! Luna is very, very sweet, and aside from a few quirks, she's an amazingly intelligent, highly perceptive, sensitive and decent person…what?"

Draco was staring at Harry oddly from across the table, looking pole-axed.

"What? Did I get something stuck between my teeth?"

"You…you SLEPT with Luna Lovegood! Don't even deny it! I can tell! When you spoke up there was a look. A defensive, affectionate, 'here there be memories' look! Oh, my sweet Gods! You shagged Luna Lovegood!"

Harry opened and shut his mouth helplessly, crimson from head to toe. Anything he said would come out wrong and he knew he couldn't deny it with a straight face.

"Gentlemen tell no tales! That's all I have to say. She's a wonderful person, if you take the time to get to know her. She's a bit like you that way, so I'll thank you to be civil about this!"

Draco was laughing hard and loud. "Don't…don't worry! I won't spill secrets! Hah! Oh, Gods! Luna! You slept with a woman who wore lime top with an orange skirt! In public! I don't need to know more than that! Oh, damn!"

Harry dropped his head into his hands and growled. "FINE! Okay! No spilling secrets…so you might as well know. She also has a body like a mink when the clothes are off, and she kept me up and going from the time we got to her place that same night until noon the next day. If I'd been a little less gun-shy about serious relationships, we'd have made it a steady thing. She was completely reasonable about my being a little uncomfortable with anyone after Ginny, and we were off-again on-again friends with benefits for almost two years. Don't insult her in front of me."

Draco was looking pole-axed again, and he'd gone from laughing out loud to staring in awed silence.

"What? Thinking of the next rotten thing to say about someone I happen to be fond of?"

"You can go from night 'til noon? Like…twelve hours of sex? You're just talking locker room bragging, right?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not. Remember…I don't get around that much. When I really feel enthusiastic about someone, it isn't that unusual for me to stay excited for quite awhile before I finally tire out. Ginny and I were the same way for the first two years. We were like bunnies on Ecstasy."

"Why can't you be gay?"

"WHAT!?"

"Shit! I'm sorry! That was out loud? I thought I was just thinking that! I was mentally stuck on the whole twelve hour thing! Sorry! Never mind. More wine?"

Harry let Draco pour another glass while he tried to pretend that the conversation hadn't happened. The uncomfortable silence between them made a lie of any attempt to forget what had been said. Something had to give, and Harry spoke first.

"Draco…I'm sorry. You know I really like you a lot. Really. Best friend I've had since school. The only new friend I've made in a decade. I just…I like women. A lot. If I really thought I could go that way, for you, I'd do it…but it just isn't anything I think I'd feel right doing."

Draco sipped his wine, staring uneasily at the tablecloth.

"I know. It's not like you haven't made it clear before. Do you know how many women I've slept with? Two. Pansy and Daphne Greengrass. After that I stuck to gentlemen of discretion. How many of them? Four. Harry…I've never actually slept in the same bed with anyone since Pansy. My love life has been every bit as pathetic as the rest of my life. I needed half a bottle of wine just to admit that the only person I've felt anything respectable for in the last fifteen years…has been you. And you're straight. I am a fool. Harry…I should go. The food was delicious…but I think I need to go home and sleep off the wine for tonight. Okay?"

"Well…okay. If you're sure you're alright. Damn it. I wasn't kidding about missing you, you know?"

Draco smiled lamely. "I know, Harry. I wasn't kidding either. Have a good night. See you again soon, right?"

"Alright. Sleep easy."

Draco nodded and Apparated home with a muted pop. Sleep easy. Sleep easy, he said. If only it were that easy. Another glass of wine later, Draco Malfoy fell asleep in the canopied antique masterpiece that was his bed. The last person he'd shared it with had been the woman who took their child from him and hid her away at all costs. He hadn't once considered sharing it with another person, male or female, since the divorce. He'd never let any of his trysts into his personal life.

Tonight, he fell asleep wishing dearly that Harry Potter was in that bed with him, and would be there when he opened his eyes again. Sometimes dreams came true. Just never his own.

TBC.

(Author's note: Later chapters of The Office have a higher rating for explicit material, and cannot be posted to some sites. Please consult my author's page for a link to my Livejournal. References to other sites where complete series and uncensored versions of stories can be found. Thanks!)