Age of Discontent: Chess

Draco wiped the beading sweat on his forehead, carefully leaning away from the bubbling cauldron in front of him as his students laboured attentively over their own brews. The skele-grow potion was notoriously finicky and even stumped most of his advanced potions students. He had set this potion as the student's assessment simply because it relied heavily upon the first principles of brewing. First, a master brewer must always control the brewing environment, down to the humidity and oxygen concentration in the air. Second, a potions master must be constantly aware of the interactions between specific ingredients, as the powdered dragon's talon and mermaid scales produce a noxious odor that will spoil the whole brew if added sequentially. However, if the brewer casts a selectively permeable barrier charm and keeps the two separate even within the cauldron, the potion is still viable. Lastly, the potion requires precise timing and even stirring, demanding an ability to keep track of multiple time sensitive tasks.

If his students botched even one of these principals, the potion would be rendered an inert cauldron of gloopy gray-brown slop the consistency of wet cement. Given that Draco was teaching advanced potions, he was sure he would have at least a few successes and those would be the ones who might have a future in the profession. Most notably, there were two students who seemed to be on the right track, a third year Slytherin girl called Adrian Delamare and a fourth year Hufflepuff by the name of Madison Hornberry.

Draco was reluctantly impressed that a Hufflepuff seemed to be showing a knack for potion making and yet he intended to grow that knack into a real talent. Now that his own brew was simmering sluggishly under the protection of a stasis charm, he swept away from the large desk at the front of the room to supervise his ducklings as they struggled and sweated their way through the complicated process. Draco floated about the classroom, giving hints here and there to the ones on the verge of royally cocking up the mixture.

"Your count is off, two more counterclockwise stirs, not four" He corrected gently, wrapping his long fingers around the stirring rod of a frazzled Gryffindor and confidently completing the correct number of rotations. The mixture slowly thinned out from the syrupy mess it had been, back into a thinner, more liquid consistency. "You've added a few too many doxy wings, what counteracts doxy wings Mr. Brennan?"

The Gryffindor seemed unsure but still offered up an answer, "Willow bark Professor?" The dark haired boy mumbled. Draco ticked up one well shaped eyebrow, "Very close but willow bark will cancel out the entire effect of the doxy wings, try two dried willow leaves, this will retain the correct amount of acidity while neutralizing the acid from the extra wings." Brennan sighed in relief and quickly shuffled to the supply closet for the dried willow leaves leaving Draco to subtly roll his eyes and cast a stasis charm on the boy's potion until he could correct it.

Brennan returned to his potion and prepared the willow leaves with an obvious sense of relief and Draco couldn't help but be brought back to his own first mistake in potions class and how Severus had, as kindly as he was able, subtly corrected him before his frustration could get the best of him. He remembered being overly hot and red in the face, a precursor to his adolescent explosions. It was a flaw that followed him into adulthood much to the chagrin of his patient and communicative partner. It was also a flaw that seemed unfailingly present when he was around Potter. It seemed the man's presence was enough to ignite the embarrassment and shame that caused him to overcompensate with rage.

The professor was drawn from his introspection with the scraping sound of the large wooden door to his classroom moving on squealing hinges. To his immense surprise, the object of his thoughts was striding toward him with a sure, if uneven, gait. Draco was so taken aback that he forgot to speak, his brain feeling like scrambled mush between his ears. He could feel his students burning holes into his head with the intensity of their curiosity; after a few uncomfortable moments of silence he realized that Potter was shifting uncomfortably and looked a bit pale.

Harry hadn't intended to interrupt Draco's class so boldly and felt his ears getting hot with embarrassment as he shifted his weight onto the cane and off of his bad leg. He had cut his class short after concentration became impossible due to that wretched dream he'd had earlier.

"Er, I didn't know you held Saturday lessons." He offered awkwardly. "If you want, I can come back later…" He trailed off, hoping to be invited to stay.

Draco was … wary. Potter didn't look like he wanted to be there in the slightest so it must be something important enough to make him overcome his seemingly great desire to avoid Draco.

"We were just wrapping things up anyway." Draco replied instinctively, "My office is through that door, I'll be in shortly?" The statement turned up slightly at the end, giving the shorter man time to back out if he so chose.

"Sure, thanks." Harry muttered as he walked toward the office door, entering quietly and leaving Draco to his class.

"Right, bottle your skele-grow and label it with your name, then leave it on my desk. Be sure to clean your stations and return all materials to the supply cupboard." He managed, trying not to look rushed as he gathered his class notes and hurried to meet Potter in his office.

Harry found himself in Draco's office which was more understated than he had anticipated yet clearly assembled by someone with good taste. There was a high backed black leather chair at the desk that Harry supposed was meant to intimidate the students called into the office. There was also a fireplace a ways away from the desk with two more comfortable looking armchairs and a set of crystal drinking glasses on the low table that spanned the distance between them.

On the desk there were few trinkets but one seemed particularly odd, shaped like a broomstick but poorly balanced, bristle end sagging toward the desktop. Harry reached out a finger to balance it and was surprised when it took off like a shot, speeding around the room in rapid circles.

Draco opened the door just in time to duck the flying model that came whizzing toward his head. Draco let out a startled laugh, shutting the door behind him and realized that Potter was staring at him as if he had grown another head. He coughed quietly and made his way over to his desk, touching the place where the model had been before it took its jaunt around the room and the miniature nova broomstick returned to its former position. He leaned back to half sit on the desk and bring himself closer to Harry's height.

"It was a gift from a student." He explained, "He works for the ministry now but we shared a love of quidditch and when he graduated with an O in my advanced potions course, he wanted to show his appreciation."

"Come to think of it, he was the first to pass my advanced potions course with an O." Draco mused aloud. "But you didn't come to talk about past students. What can I do for you Potter?"

Harry was a bit confused by Malfoy's relaxed demeanor and couldn't help but remember the sharp bark of laughter that seemed out of place in his coworker's mouth. He also found it a bit difficult to believe that any student of Draco Malfoy would be so moved by his tutelage that he thought it merited a gift.

Malfoy's usually lanky body was bent a bit at the waist, putting him eye level with those piercing eyes and something about it made him feel squirmy and small but something about the kicked back posture looked good on Malfoy, it was clear he was comfortable in this environment and it suited him.

Harry was having difficulty reconciling this confidant man with the tempestuous school boy he remembered so well.

"Dreamless sleep. I need some dreamless sleep." He managed to stutter out, looking anywhere but into the curious blue eyes currently observing him. He hated the feeling of color rising to his cheeks and cleared his throat nervously.

"Why Potter, do you need dreamless sleep? It isn't a potion to be used lightly or regularly." Draco warned, crossing his arms over his chest as he inspected the bespectacled man before him. Potter seemed almost embarrassed.

Instantly, the memories of his dream assaulted him, the softness of Draco's skin, the warm, moist strokes of his tongue… Harry turned beet red and turned as though to inspect the tomes on the opposite bookcase. "Nightmares." He said decisively, completely unwilling to elaborate.

"Healer Zabini told me I can't have any potions he hasn't prescribed until he gives the okay but I need a good night's rest." He explained naturally, internally wincing at the lie. Unfortunately he was a very good liar these days, his previous work demanded it. He turned, forced a humble smile and opened those honest green eyes, meeting Draco's skeptical gaze.

Potter was lying to him. Draco caught the urge to narrow his eyes in suspicion and maintained his slightly curious expression. Potter had no reason to lie to him, he knew as well as Draco did the horrors of the war, it would make sense that he had nightmares. So what was he lying about? At this point Draco didn't exactly care why Potter was lying, he was simply grateful to be presented this opportunity alone with him in his office. He would suss out the truth later.

Two could play at this game. Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully and lilted forward to stand upright to his full height. "If Healer Zabini really said that, then I should probably abide by his professional opinion, isn't that right Potter?" He asked, feigning hesitance.

Anxiety plucked at Harry's gut as his gaze tracked Draco's movements. "Yes but I haven't had any other potions at all and I haven't slept in days. I just need one night." He said, scratching the back of his head earnestly.

Draco was grinning like the cat who got the canary on the inside, enjoying the push and pull, but on the outside he adjusted his demeanor to appear thoughtful and sympathetic. He advanced a few slow steps, an arms length from the other man's soft looking jumper. "True, I know sleep can be elusive when we want it most."

Harry was growing uncomfortable with slightly chilled air of the dungeons and, though he was loathe to admit it, the closeness of his former rival. "O-of course. I hate to trouble you with this, I'll be on my way quick as you like." He uttered clumsily, turning again to mime looking at the books lining the wall opposite of Malfoy, even going so far as to run his finger along the spines.

Draco allowed himself the ghost of a smile, closing the distance between them slightly. When he was close enough to lower his voice, Malfoy hummed in disagreement. "No rush Potter, I'm sure we can get you taken care of." He said, trying desperately for it not to come out as a sweet crooning sound. He leaned over, reaching past Potter's head to pluck a worn book from the shelf. He paused, mouth close enough to Harry's ear that he could feel the warmth of his breath, then whispered, "You really ought to bite into this one."

Harry stood frozen, eyes locked on the book dangling from Draco's slender fingers, muscles burning with the desire to turn and look at that aristocratic face but he managed. After a few moments of silence filled only with the breath of two men trying desperately to remain calm.

And then, it was over, Draco withdrew, tucking the book into his arm and sweeping over to a tall, narrow closet, his personal stores. Draco selected the powder blue solution and returned to Harry. "If you have any abnormal side effects, go to Blaise and tell him but don't tell him I gave it to you." Draco said, extending both the book and the potion to Harry's slack grip. "Oh, and Potter, come back sometime for a drink. It's been fun." He added with a sneer.

Harry snapped back to it and clutched the two items in disbelief. Malfoy had just given him what he wanted, and even invited him back despite the sarcastic overtone of the invitation. He nodded thankfully and turned, frazzled he searched for the door. "Thanks Malfoy." He offered gratefully.

Malfoy nodded and opened the door for him, making a sweeping motion with his hand as though to direct Harry through. Harry left as quickly as he could with one arm full of the fruits of his trip and the other tightly gripping the head of his cane. His heart was racing. He was fairly sure that he had gotten away with it and felt the great need to get back to his rooms and calm his frayed nerves.

Inside his office, Draco was basking in the bliss of having flirted with Potter, really flirted, for the first time. He felt like he had made a crucial move in this chess match and the win felt good. Blaise would no doubt be upset with him for encouraging Potter's disobedience but he needed to gain Harry's trust and yes, curry a bit of favor. Any tick on his side was a good one in his mind.

Draco poured himself a firewhisky, slugging down a long gulp and relishing the burn in his throat. He traced his long fingers down his slender neck, allowing a slightly mischievous smile to crawl lazily over his face. Malfoys always get what they want after all.

Harry slid through the portrait which recognized him by his magical signature and hissed a welcome. He carefully placed the potion and book on the side table and dropped heavily into one of the comfortable chairs in the common area. A grin took over his face as the thought of having duped the healer. The dull ache in his wound brought his attention back to his damned leg again and he massaged around the outer edges of the curses mark, the pain growing as it often did with overuse. With his usual pain potions off the menu, he was unable to do much but grit his teeth and ride out the waves of pain. Sometimes he wished he had just lost the damn leg, anything would be better than this. Safe in the comfort of his own protected rooms, he let out a small whimper before swallowing the cries of pain that wanted to break free.

The book and potion lay forgotten on his side table in the wake of the fit. Harry lost track of how long he sat crumpled in that chair, clutching his leg and breathing through the pain. By the time it subsided, it was nearly dark according to the tempus charm illuminating his face in the dark of the room. Harry grimace at having lost his entire Saturday to negotiations with Malfoy and the pain in his leg.

Having no prying eyes to gaze at him with pity, Harry used the furniture to make his way through the sitting room to his bedroom where he could finally fall into the soft down comforter and feather pillows of his bed. He replayed his interaction with Malfoy, unable to sleep until he had processed it. Malfoy had answered the boldness of Harry interrupting his class with his own kind of boldness. A kind that Harry didn't quite understand and yet captivated him. He was fairly sure that his deception had gone unnoticed but Harry had been undercover. He had seduced dark wizards and witches before and was familiar with the feeling.

That felt like seduction but that would be ridiculous. There was no way that Malfoy would want to seduce him. Harry could play the game well but what if it wasn't a game? But the way Malfoy had whispered in his ear… Just the memory sent gooseflesh down the back of his neck. He was probably just playing him for blackmail. He rolled his eyes. It was obvious, Malfoy would try to get a reaction out of him, thinking he was the same transparent dope from school and when he took the bait, Malfoy would humiliate him. That made sense. Harry's cheeks burned with shame and he tucked his face into the soft pillow. Harry really did need rest, he downed the dreamless sleep potion and drifted into the comfort of a deep and uninterrupted sleep, somewhere far away, he got the sense that Zabini was fuming.