Title: Draco Preparedness
Author: olimakiella
Written for the Serpentinelion's 2011 Glomp fest for jan_rea over on LJ
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Seamus/Blaise, OMCs
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. I also don't own Xerox paper.
Warning(s): Secondary character mpreg. Severe obliviousness. EWE.
Total Word Count: 13,958

Summary: Being an events planner for the Quidditch World Cup Gala is not so new to Draco Malfoy, neither is working on a tight budget with a low work force. This time around he's been given the QWC Liaison to make the work easier. Only problem is the Liaison is Harry Potter, fresh from a stint of prolonged meditation and finding himself. Potter has other matters on his mind, like offering Draco unwanted lunches, trapping him in elevators and generally just being confusing. Draco seriously believes Potter has it in for him – and he does – just not the way Draco believes...

Draco Preparedness

Draco looked up from the preliminary plans he was working on in his temporary office. It was always given to him when he was employed to plan a Ministry Gala. It was the least they could do, especially given the type and size of the damn thing. The Quidditch World Cup was over in a month and, now that all the sites were booked, all the players had to do was show up and play and the plans for the World Cup Gala that occurred every four years after the final match were in full swing. Draco always complained about the time they gave him to plan these things, as if he were on their beck-and-call. It made him roll his eyes every time he got a floo-call from the Minister's Permanent Secretary.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened. The first thing Draco noticed was the green label on the coffee cup. The second thing he noticed was the person holding it. "Hey, Ferret. Hermione sent me to get her that peppermint tea stuff from that cafe in Diagon Alley."

Draco took his reading glasses off and held up a hand. That didn't smell like tea. "Tell me that cup is for me, Weasel, and I'll be your willing love-slave for all eternity."

Ron blushed but shook his head, smiling. "Zabini told me to come on in. I had three, one was for him."

Draco nodded, knowing that Blaise required payment if anyone was allowed in to disturb him. Peppermint tea from Diagon's leading cafe was just the ticket. Rule was, if he was in his office he wanted privacy. Blaise understood that and pretty soon everyone else, under Blaise's tutelage, understood that too. Ron held out the cup and Draco took it greedily inhaling the sweet aroma of caffeine.

"Oh, I love you when Granger is pregnant." He took a hefty swallow and moaned. Mt. Olympus truly was a cafe from the gods. The only thing that beat their beverages was their pastries. He gestured for Ron to take a seat and snuggled down into his own chair.

Ron rolled his eyes but took a seat anyway. He'd long since given up on getting Draco to call his wife by her married name. "Yes... well, I'll be claiming one of those sexual favours soon. Hermione is getting a little crazy with her moods lately." He scratched the back of his head. "I may have to ask Seamus what the hell he does to get some because I sure as hell don't know."

Draco grinned but didn't take the bait. It was too easy, even for him. Instead, he nodded with him. "Maybe you should ask Blaise. It's his good side Seamus has to get on." Blaise claimed he'd trained the ex-Gryffindor up well before committing to anything. However, Draco knew the little biological present he had growing wasn't made on purpose. It was more a result of a night's worth of drinks and a disastrous morning-after. Twelve weeks later, he was sobbing on Draco's shoulder trying to figure out what to do.

Of course, Draco – not being an expert in the area – had gone to the only pregnant people he knew, namely Granger and Weasley, and told them to sort it out. He had no idea what she did but Granger's meddling was good for something, obviously. Seamus had turned up out of the blue, blue-eyed and blushing to his roots, whisking Blaise away on dates and travelling all over the place. If Quidditch season wasn't in full swing, Draco was sure Blaise wouldn't even put in any hours at work, preferring to spend his days with Finnigan.

Now, months later, the two were heavily pregnant and apparently driving their other halves insane.

Ron shook his head. "Can't. I'm no good at extracting information like that without sounding suspicious. And Blaise wouldn't give out that kind of information for free. Best I stick to what I know, you know? Get the free stuff while I still can."

Draco held up a finger, signalling Ron to hold on, and sat up. "Mmm," he said with his mouth full, and swallowed the brown elixir down. He began rooting through his top drawers. "Speaking of, I got these from Mr. Brown. You told me you weren't able to get seats last time because they ran out." He paused to turn to him. "And you did come at me late so I didn't have any, but..." He continued searching until he found the small cream envelope. "Ah ha! There they are."

"Wha–" Ron sat forward, his mouth hanging agape when he saw the familiar-looking envelope with the golden snitch embossed on the top right corner. "Merlin's balls," he swore. "They're for the finals?"

Draco nodded. "I may be the one claiming sexual favours, no?" He grinned, handing over the envelope, and settled back again with his coffee in hand. He chuckled when Ron just nodded silently. "Good. I've been lacking lately."

Ron, seemingly snapping out of his trance-like state, snorted. "Oh, so the line of admirers has dwindled has it?"

"Hey, don't laugh at me. Those people don't know the first thing about me. One guy the other day came up to me in the cafeteria and put his arm around me – called me 'honey'." Draco shuddered. "Granger thought I knew him, she was ready to introduce herself and everything. Too bad his arm got broken in three places." He took a sip of his coffee. When he registered Ron's raised eyebrows he shrugged. "What? I'm searching for the one. And that man does not 'the one' make," he finished philosophically. "I'm the only one of this rag-tag group that doesn't have anyone, now. What's worse, the 'grab-a-Gryffindor' fever has become an epidemic. First Pansy goes for Longbottom of all people and now Blaise is shacking up with Finnigan. I almost believe I'm living in an alternate universe."

Ron shook his head at Draco's story. He sighed despite himself and gave the man a rueful grin. "Hmm, I know what you mean. Just think, me bringing you coffee." Ron laughed.

Draco stared at him and began to laugh, noticing the scar that ran behind Ron's left ear as he tilted his head back. It had hurt, he knew. He had one to match on his shoulder to prove it. The cut had been deep and had taken weeks to heal due to the amount of magic that went into the cutting spell. Draco was sure if the maniac had had more time, the wound would have been a lot worse and Weasley might not even be there now bringing him coffee, The red-head had been extremely self-conscious about the scar a few years ago, just after the war. He was okay with it now though and stopped growing his hair to hide it, much to his mother's relief.

Draco couldn't say the same. The scar he had ran across his left shoulder, where he'd pushed Weasley out of the way. His wasn't visible to anyone as he could wear clothes to hide it but he'd had enough of potential suitors going on about it or, worse, insisting he get rid of it. They obviously thought he was stupid or suffering under delusions of grandeur. Draco was much too shallow for that. If he could have got rid of it, he would have. He ignored the hollowness in his stomach that thinking about the encounter always gave him and pushed the feeling aside. "Besides, Gryffindor has all the best men. Don't you know? It's time you wised up, Malfoy."

Draco took a pencil from the stationery pot he'd brought from his office and threw it at him. "Oh, fuck off. Not all of them are from that red-filled tower, you absolute bastard."
Ron seemed to sober a bit as he sat there. His hand unconsciously went to scratch his head but Draco knew exactly where those fingers were touching. "No," Ron said looking at him. "Not all of them."

Draco playfully narrowed his eyes at him. He'd thought enough about that for the decade. "Doesn't Kingsley keep his Aurors busy? How is it you had time to go all the way to Diagon Alley and stop for a chat without him noticing anything?"

Ron sat there for a moment longer, making Draco wait before he willingly took the bait to lighten the mood. "Don't you know? Everyone's so preoccupied in seeing what the 'Great Draco Malfoy, Events Planner Extraordinaire' has in store for them come August, no one has any time to commit crimes any more." He grinned unrepentantly. "Thanks for that by the way."

Draco rolled his eyes and threw another pencil at him from his pot. "Oh, flatterer. Go on," he said, shooing him away with his hand, "be gone with you. The Extraordinary Draco Malfoy has work to do if he intends to keep criminals off the street."

Ron stood up, chuckling, and went to the door to leave him in peace. Draco put back on his glasses and peered down at the schematic in front of him some more. In a way he was glad for Weasley's interruption. He hadn't noticed that miscalculation on the side by the hall's eastern window. "Shit," he said quietly to himself, and tilted his head. No wonder the damn thing was so confusing. He reached up for a muggle rubber out of the pot. Ever since Granger had stated she would occupy a 'Permanent Place of Friendship' in his life – whether he liked it or not – she'd given him the brown ceramic pot and a load of muggle pens and pencils (which she replenished every Christmas without fail) all marked with either BIC or WH Smith, whatever the fuck they were, claiming they were now going to be a 'symbol' of their friendship.

He'd looked at her much the same way Weasley had looked at her that day – as if she were crazy – but had taken the gift all the same. He'd kept it on his desk in his office ever since he'd started his business. His first job had been because of her – she was the Permanent Secretary after all. One day, she'd come into his temporary office on her lunch break, under false pretences of 'checking up on the Fete he was planning', when he knew she was just checking up on him (he'd consulted Weasley, apparently the behaviour was normal) and he hadn't missed the delighted smile she'd tried to hide from him when she'd seen it. He brought it with him now whenever he had a ministry job.

It wasn't much as 'thank-yous' went, but it was the least he could do.

"Hey, Ferret." Draco's head snapped up again and frowned. He hadn't noticed Weasley hadn't left yet. Ron put a fist over his heart and looked very sincere when he said gravely, "Keep fighting the good fight." He disappeared in time for the rubber to hit the door exactly where his head had been.

"Why the hell does he want me to decorate the Hall in the winning team's colours?" Draco asked, and stared down at the empty plate in front of him. He contemplated licking it and wondered if that would be bad. He hadn't cared that it was expensive, it was divine. That more than made up for its sinfulness. Besides, Hermione was covering this trip. "Isn't that a tad gauche?" he continued once he'd allowed the temptation to pass. "I know they'll all be happy they won but this celebration is for all participants in the World Cup. Having to face the colour of the team that got your dream is a bit overkill." His finger ran through the cream that had fallen out of his chocolate éclair. Surely that wasn't against etiquette. He looked around anyway as he sucked the finger into his mouth. Mmm. Heaven. He tried not to close his eyes. Honestly.

"I know," Hermione replied, putting down her second bun. She covered her mouth with her hand as she spoke. "I tried to explain that to him, but he sees it as either you decorate in one of their colours or all the colours."

Draco nearly dropped his coffee cup. "All of them?" He didn't even stop to contemplate the insanity of that idea. "Is he snorting Pixie Dust?" He sat back and stretched his neck muscles. She'd saved him from a desk load of samples and photographs of the new hall the Department Head of Sports and Utilities had suddenly decided to use. Draco had been working under the impression the gala would take place in the same ministry hall they were always held in. He'd nearly killed the man through use of the sharp textile tools in his drawer. He'd yet to be assigned the help he'd been promised. A typical ministry happening, which is why he usually outsourced his own. The formal request letter he'd received, however, informed him that since the event was not for the ministry in general but tailored to one department's needs, he'd be assigned a workforce from Sports and Utilities to help him and '...aid in departmental holistic development'.

What the hell does that even mean, anyway?

The state he was in before lunch, Hermione had taken one look at him and demanded his presence in helping her devour the Mt. Olympus Cafe post-haste. He hadn't bothered to argue with her, just thrown off his glasses, picked up his cloak and followed her out. The proprietor had obviously sold his soul to run the place, it was only polite to make his investment worth it.

"Oh Merlin." Draco let his head fall back as stared at the ceiling. Woe came at him from every corner these days. "Now I have to meet with the Sports Department Head to demand the damn people he promised me."

"Targus still hasn't delivered?" Hermione said, taking the fork from her mouth. She frowned, contemplative. "I had a word with him about it last week. He gave me some cock and bull story about waiting for a valuable member of the team. He told me he'd try to sort it out quicker."

Draco scoffed and looked out the window of the cafe. "If he went any slower time would stand still." Draco glanced at his watch. His gaze went up to the display case again. He thought about getting another éclair to take away.

"You might as well," Hermione's voice penetrated his thoughts as if she were reading them. "I sure as hell am."

Draco almost wished he'd taken a longer lunch.

"Well, how many will you need?" Targus Shields had obvious never planned anything larger than a toddler's birthday party. Draco felt an overwhelming tendency of homicide coming on.

He rubbed at his temples. "Well, that all depends, how busy are you? Look - the last WC gala I did for you I did with my own people and it was a damn fine one, especially since it was not only the first of its kind but the one to make up for its predecessor." The 1997 gala had been scarce and rare, especially since the Quidditch World Cup had taken place immediately after the war. No one really feels like celebrating when most if not all their family is gone. The gala of 2001 had been pressure. After all, it was the son of a Death Eater hosting a celebration to bring people together after the previous one was wrecked by the planner's father and his father's friends. Not a nice job to have, but he'd done it and he'd done it well.

Targus did honestly look regretful, which appeased Draco a little but not much. "I know, I am sorry, but I promise you it will all go smoother once my liaison gets here. He was supposed to be here since last week but he got held up in a meeting in Germany." Targus stood up walking to the door. "I can help you until then with whatever you need and if you want you can have your pick of whoever you want in the department. I've held you back enough."

Draco tried to listen but the rest of Targus' words melted away after the word 'liaison' had crossed his ears. He couldn't mean who Draco thought he meant. But then, there wasn't another one in the ministry and the previous Sports Liaison had retired three years ago. Targus was still speaking as he led Draco out of his office, directing him through his department and past cubicles of 'potential helpers', but Draco still couldn't hear him. He could feel his heart beating rapidly. World Cup Liaison only meant one person: Potter.

"Oh, well speak of Morgana, there he is now." Targus seemed surprised. Compared to Draco the man didn't know the meaning of the word. "Potter, over here!"

Draco felt his world tilt sideways as Harry Potter turned from the conversation he was having and gave Targus a smile and a nod. Potter had only been working at the Ministry for four weeks as an Administrative Assistant under Targus Shield when his knowledge of the Sport had earned him a promotion. He'd been sent on assignment for the World Cup of 2001 but Draco had seen very little of him since the season had him so busy. Thank Merlin. If Draco had to take one more look at his shining self-confidence he'd go blind from the glare.

Harry Potter had been a total wreck after the war. Death and suffering could do that to a person. He'd disappeared for two years and come back a changed man. He wasn't sure on all the details but from his surreptitious talks with Hermione and Ronald he'd gathered Potter had been at a retreat learning how to 'find himself', chanting with monks and travelling the world to get to his centre and purpose. Draco only wished he could go there too, and perhaps buy some land, because it seemed like a damn fine place to be. Potter was a new man. He was confident, powerful and he had command of that power instead of shying away from it and the attention it garnered. He'd found his purpose, had grown into himself... and he was happy.

He was sexy too.

Draco watched him walk towards them wearing a dark button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms covered in tanned skin. He had on dark jeans too, and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head sweeping his hair back. He didn't seem to care that the scar, even though faded now, was showing. His whole stance screamed carefree and loving life. Draco craved that kind of feeling every day.

Still, though, he looked good.

"Mr. Shields, sir, nice to see you." Harry held out his hand to him. Merlin, even his voice sounded sexy. Draco looked away, feeling like an awkward outsider.

"Likewise." He wasn't watching but he could see the shake in Targus' frame as he shook Harry's hand. "I hope you're ready, Malfoy here has been waiting a week to be getting on with the gala plans."

Draco was surprised he'd been brought into the conversation so quickly. He'd assumed there would be catching up to do before the reason the ministry was spending so much money on him was given priority. When he turned back to the conversation it was to see clear green eyes watching him. A bright smile knocked him for six and, strangely enough, Draco found himself looking at his teeth. So straight.

"Hello, Draco." The words echoed a few times before Draco recognised them as a greeting.

"Potter. You look –" Fucking handsome "– healthy. The meditation must be working."

Harry seemed to find his remark endlessly amusing. His eyes traversed Draco's frame, probably looking for something to comment on in return. "Every morning and evening, six o'clock on the dot. You should try it, you look tense." His hands went behind his back, his remarkably even teeth biting into his lower lip as if he'd said something cheeky.

Give me ten minutes in the nearest bathroom, I'll be fine. "I'll look into it."

Harry looked between him and Targus as if waiting for something. It was then Targus remembered he'd called the man over for a reason. "Harry, my boy, I'll need your reports before you start working with Draco here. I realise how busy you are –"

"No, I have them here." Harry reached down into his messenger bag he had slung over his shoulders and pulled out a folder. "I did them on the plane. I hope you don't mind bond paper. I ducked into an internet cafe on the way over."

"Bond... Internet cafe?" Targus spoke as if he were trying out a new language.

Harry waved off the question. "Ah that part's not important. What is, is that you can read it, right?"

"Oh, yes – my, these pages are very white, what spells did you use?"

Harry gave him a quizzical look, as if he hadn't been expecting that question. "I'll have to ask Xerox." He gave the man a grin.

Targus nodded absently as he began reading through the report. "Remarkably white..." he trailed off as he walked into his office.

Harry grinned at him before directing his gazed to Draco. "Shall we?" Draco nodded as he walked towards his office. It had been placed within the department so that he wouldn't have to travel great distances to get anything. He saw Blaise sitting at his desk reading through a book. He didn't see the title until he got closer. "You're reading a baby name book?" he asked as he walked up to his secretary's desk.

"I am," Blaise didn't even raise his head.

"You don't already have one?" Draco knew purebloods, they always had a name. They'd probably been thinking about one since they were in school.

"I do." He finally looked up. "I'm compromising." He didn't seem happy about it. Before Draco could ask him what he meant, Blaise finally noticed the man standing next to him. "Well, well, well, look what the monks finally delivered. Potter, you look devastating." Blaise batted his eyes comically.

Harry laughed playfully. "Why thank you, Zabini, you look like a miracle. I see my prayers have come through. I was beginning to think all was lost." Draco's eyes switched between the two as they spoke; he wished he was able to do that, flirt so effortlessly without censure. Once again he felt awkward just standing there. "I may have to have a word with Seamus, make sure he's treating you right, he's got competition now."

Blaise grinned and turned his gaze to Draco. "Keep this one, I like him."

Draco rolled his eyes and went inside his office. "Go back to your book. Merlin knows the ministry has to pay us for something." He smiled at Blaise's laugh. He was sitting at his desk by the time Harry came in and shut his door. "Let's get this started, shall we?"

Harry sat back in the visitor's chair after he took off his bag. "Yes, let's."

"Well, I know the last game hasn't been played yet but do you have any idea who's most likely to at least get into the finale?" Draco was searching for his notebook as he took a pencil from his stationery pot.

"Looking for an easy win, Draco? Shame on you." Draco snapped his gaze to Potter seeing him smile at him. He'd obviously not meant it as an insult, but Draco hadn't gone through the intense relaxation sessions Potter had. It was hard to let go of it all.

"The Minister wants me to decorate the hall in the winning colours. It will be hard to do that on short notice. If I can get a likely colour palette, it will make mixing them easier. It will look less like the hall was decorated by the colour blind."

Harry laughed but easily got back on track. It was easier to talk about work after that. Draco was surprised. The man obviously knew about his work and his in-depth knowledge was actually very helpful. Draco found himself equally looking forward to and dreading the next month. They were still talking when Blaise knocked on his office door.

Draco looked up to see Blaise and Ron in their cloaks. He glanced down at his watch. It was quarter past four.

"Sorry to interrupt but I want to go home," Blaise said bluntly. Draco waved him off and wasn't surprised to see him immediately disappear from the doorway. He rolled his eyes. Ron was still smiling when Draco propped his head on his hand, wondering why Blaise was still employed. He got up and put on his cloak. He was sick to death of the QWC gala already and he hadn't even started yet. Tomorrow he would get back into it but tonight he wanted to forget it completely.

"On that note. I'm leaving too." He took his wand and shoved it in its holster. The schematics were next as he rolled them up. "I'm tired, and this... has been a very long day." Ron nodded to him as he passed with his work in his hand. "Lock up for me. I'm going home to collapse." He turned to Harry. "Potter. I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Will do." He watched Draco walk towards the lifts, cocking his head to the side when the blond bypassed them completely to take the stairs. He shrugged mentally; they were only a floor down from the atrium. He hadn't been sure what he would meet when he arrived back in England, but he certainly hadn't expected this. Draco was different. He couldn't pinpoint what it was but he smiled as he realised he wouldn't mind investigating.

"No. No, Harry, no." He snapped his gaze to Ron and frowned. Ron looked annoyed. He was sure if the redhead had a newspaper, he would have rolled it and smacked him on the nose.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Don't – look, I know you, I know that look, and I know a rule unbroken is irresistible to you but I'm telling you no. It's a bad idea." Ron gestured for him to leave Draco's office and shut the door behind him, locking it with a spell.

Harry swung the strap of his messenger bag over his head as he turned around to face his best friend. "I don't have a look."

Ron chuckled knowingly as they walked to the lifts. They were meeting Hermione upstairs in the atrium. "Oh, so you weren't staring at Malfoy's arse like it was the last treacle tart at the Gryffindor table?"

Harry actually looked a little put out there. He'd noticed. He didn't know he'd been staring. "No."

Ron started to laugh. "It's a bad idea," he reinforced as he pressed the button for the lift.

Harry stood there waiting for the lift. He understood now why Draco took the stairs. The man looked tired. Targus had obviously been running him ragged. The blond had mentioned multiple times in their conversation about Shields withholding a workforce. How he could've already started doing the groundwork last week if the man fulfilled his promises. He'd have to have a word with his boss about that. Harry had been listening, mostly, though his attention had been caught several times by the short piece of hair that kept escaping the back of Draco's ear as he spoke and wrote down notes at the same time, by his tongue that poked out a little as he gave his work the utmost concentration. He'd heard of the exploits of Draco Malfoy from Hermione already; the story of him breaking some guy's unwanted arm for putting it around him had particularly amused him. Though, now that he'd seen him he didn't blame the guy, whoever he was. Although, if he tried it again, Draco would have to beat him Harry to it. "Why?" he asked his friend finally as the lift doors opened. Thankfully the lift was empty.

Ron scoffed, hitting the button for the atrium immediately. "Malfoy isn't interested. He's turned down a load of offers, some of them even good enough to surpass you, oh Holy one."

Harry laughed, his hand coming to his chest. "Judas!" he exclaimed.

Ron stared at him. "Who?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I need to get Hermione to teach you muggle references."

Ron shrugged. "I don't mind so much now, Malfoy doesn't know them either."

Harry grinned, tongue between his teeth. "I could always teach him." He waggled his eyebrows.

"No." Ron seemed stern now.

Harry frowned. Ron was actually serious. "Since when have you been so protective?" He turned to him as the lift doors closed.

Ron crossed his arms at his chest. "Since he saved my life." Harry backed down. "As trite as this sounds, he's not the same as he was when you left for your retreat."

Harry leaned back against the wall behind him, the cool railing at the base of his spine. "How?"

This time Ron looked uncomfortable. "It's not my place to say." At Harry's raised eyebrows he sighed. "He's said to me before that he's vain and 'damaged'." He raised his fingers around the quote and shrugged.

Now that got his attention. "What?" Harry asked, his stare becoming vacant as if he could still see Draco walking away.

The doors opened to the atrium as Ron shook his head at him. "Well, he is vain but he's not damaged. You've obviously recognised this but he's..." He stopped talking and looked around before tugging at his collar. "See this?" Harry nodded, recognising the scar that ran from Ron's neck to behind his ear. He'd been in the Mediterranean when he'd heard about Ron being attacked. He hadn't heard the whole story but he got the gist of it, and of Draco's involvement. "He has one too, a scar from when they took me – it's... he doesn't like people staring, which I guess they do when he's with them, I don't know," he rambled uncomfortably. He shrugged; Draco Malfoy's sex life was something Ron wasn't interested in hearing about. What he did know, Hermione had clued him in on. She hoped him understanding would stop him from saying the wrong thing, as he was wont to do. "He says he's vain and doesn't like it, so no one gets near him. Not even you," he added, seeing the glint of a challenge rise in Harry's eyes. They sat waiting for Hermione in silence when it was clear she hadn't come upstairs yet.

Ron stole glances at Harry as he watched patrons walking around on their way home. It was obvious he hadn't changed his friend's mind. Ron huffed. "The guy's like a force of nature," he said, remembering Draco's retelling of how he'd broken 'Gareth from Accounting's arm. "Going after him now is like walking up to a hurricane or a tornado just to shake its hand." Ron turned to Harry in all seriousness. "He'll watch you like you're stupid and attack you from every angle to make you stand down. Stronger men than you have gone up against him and been left thrown on their arse not knowing what the hell happened. Just leave him alone."

Harry looked guilty. He thought he'd hidden his interest. "So you're not going to help me?"

Ron stood, seeing Hermione, and waved to her to get her attention. "No. Not since I know you're only looking to get into his pants," he added wryly. "He talks big but he talks that way for a reason. I owe him my life, mate. So unless you're planning to give him one, I'm not helping you with shit," he said, as Hermione walked up to Harry to give him a big hug.

Draco heaved a sigh as he listened to the man sitting across from him talking. He didn't know why people did this, just sit down at the table he was eating at and start jabbering on about something Draco clearly had no clue about. He spotted Potter walk into the cafeteria with Granger and waved to the pair to get their attention.

Potter noticed him first, his eyes moving from Draco to the man opposite him. Oh thank Merlin, they're coming over, he thought to himself as he rested his head on his palm in relief. The sandy-haired man across from him – what was his name? – didn't seem to like the idea of them having company but Draco couldn't give two squirts of Wrackspurt piss if he upset him. The man had obviously not thought of giving him the same courtesy. Potter was the first to sit down, placing himself in the marginally reducing space between Draco and the stranger. The expression on his face wasn't happy. "Granger, praise Merlin you're here. This man is suffering under the delusion that I'm interested in hearing about his – I'm sorry, what were you talking about?" he paused his rant to ask.

"My – my sister just had her baby. I was showing you the picture, see?"

Draco was staring at him as the man moved closer to show Draco the photograph clearly, as if he was somehow too blind to see the large-print picture one foot away from him. He backed away a little, though, as Potter cleared his throat and gestured to the plate before him where the man currently held his picture. Before Draco could answer, Potter spoke for him.

"Hermione – look, he's tried it your way but people don't get the message if he doesn't hurt them. Just let him break one finger."

Draco hadn't been sure Potter could get any more attractive. He turned to Hermione, hoping that the request coming from her best friend would ease her affirmation. "I can beg. I promise." He pointed at Harry. "Even Potter wants me to do it and he's been praying for world peace and sunshine for three years."

Harry looked far from upset at his words. In fact, he looked terribly amused. "Two years. And I meditate, I don't pray."

"What's the difference?"

Harry gave him a grin. "I'll show you some time."

Draco wasn't sure how to answer that. It sounded like a serious offer but he doubted Potter would follow through on it. Granger and Weasley had obviously given him 'the talk', the one that warned him to be on his best behaviour or else. Potter hadn't been around when things had changed between him and the remaining two thirds of the Holy Triumvirate. He hadn't gone through the awkward silences and roundabout conversations that eventually led to cautious approach and tentative lunch dates. Draco knew that to an outsider the unlikely friendship would be surprising and hard to swallow. Potter had been gracious so far, Draco didn't want to push it. It was hard, though, not knowing how to react or respond to a Potter with such an easygoing attitude. The man before him was a walking oxymoron.

Draco suddenly realised he'd been staring at Harry, who was obviously waiting for an answer. "I'll take you up on that."

Harry gave him an easy smile. It made his stomach flip. "I'll be waiting."

"Just in case you wanted to know, Simon is gone." Hermione cut into her shepherd's pie.

Both Harry and Draco snapped out of their little bubble and looked around to see that the man bothering Draco was indeed gone. "Oh, thank Merlin for small mercies. This is why I prefer Mt. Olympus. If he touched my hand one more time –"

"He was touching your hand?"

Draco stopped short. Potter sounded rather angry. He was frowning. "Yeah –"

"That's sexual harassment."

Draco scoffed. "Hate to think what I would have done to him is called, then." He stood up with his plate in hand. "Oh well, back to the daily grind. We have yet to decide on a menu. I swear I don't know why I do these things."

Harry took a sip of his juice. "Because you love it and you're damn good at it, I'd imagine."

Draco smirked. "Be careful, Potter, that almost sounded like a compliment."

Harry leaned back. "You want more? Just fish. This lake is full." Draco's expression told him he didn't quite catch the analogy. Just like Ron, he thought fondly. "We should do lunch again sometime. Scare the locals. If it's this fun with just the threats, I'd pay to see you in action."

For that Harry actually received a smile. It lit up Draco's face and Harry found himself staring. "Now that, Potter, I will take you up on." After a nod to Hermione, the blond was gone. Harry sat stunned. He'd never seen Draco smile like that before. He'd never seen Draco smile. Was it always like that? If so he had to start getting some jokes as soon as possible.

It took Hermione clicking her fingers in front of his face to drag him back to the cafeteria. "What?" Hermione was smiling at him. He could feel the flush take over his face. "What?" he asked her again.

She shook her head, her curls bouncing around her as she did. "Absolutely nothing. Though, I believe you should talk to Ron."

"Why?"

"Oh, well if you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you." She took a sip of her lemonade.

By three o'clock the next day, and after receiving another time-stopping smile from the blond as he delivered a small patisserie dish from Mt. Olympus he'd picked up on the way to work, Harry had figured it out. "I don't want what's in his pants."

Ron had nearly scratched a hole in his parchment with his quill. He looked up to see Harry staring at him like his world was ending but he couldn't wait for the brilliant light show. It was a tad disconcerting. "What?" he asked, eyeing his friend carefully. Despite the day being almost over, Harry looked a little more rumpled than he should. A far cry from the comfortable clean lines he made on a normal day. It was evident he'd been tormenting himself with something. Ron nearly smiled. At peace with himself, Harry may have been, but it seemed old habits die hard.

Harry perched on Ron's desk and crossed his arms as he stared down at the well-worn carpet in thought. "Well... I do, but it's not all I'm interested in."

Oh. They were talking about Draco. Again. Ron sighed. "What are you interested in?" It was the crux of the matter. And his actions in this mess depended on the answer.

Harry's head turned to him. He looked surprised. "You really want to talk about this?"

Ah. Counting on me being squeamish about talking about 'feelings'. He rolled his eyes. Spend enough time married to Hermione and you get used to talking about anything. "Yes. I do." He put down his quill and linked his fingers over his stomach as he sat back to prove his point.

Harry, obviously not expecting this turn of events, shrank down in Ron's cubicle. A hard thing to do with men of their sizes. Draco hardly fit in his cubicle when Targus had tried to assign him one the first time around. Harry looked around to make sure no one was watching or listening before he mumbled something unintelligible.

Ron didn't hear a word. "I don't speak 'mumble', Harry." It was a favourite line of Hermione's. He used it often when he spoke to suspects in interrogation.

Harry looked disgruntled and sounded as if he were forcing a gall stone. "He bloody smiled at me, okay?" Ron chuckled and Harry dutifully ignored him. "It was like the fucking sun was shining on my face." He looked mortified, his hands gesturing to demonstrate the 'rays'. "I was blushing – it was embarrassing. He looked around again. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Ron laughed. "Fuck no. Just because his teeth shone some light on your face? I think not." He turned back to his work.

Harry broke out his beseeching face. "Ron." He uncrossed his arms, laying them on the desk at either side of where he stood.

Ron didn't even look up. "Harry," he mimicked in kind.

Harry shut his eyes in mortification and bent over, resting his elbows on Ron's desk as he stood. Ron eyed him curiously. "It's not that I don't appreciate the view, but I don't swing that way. You know you can't convince me like that."

Harry smacked his head on Ron's desk before holding his head in his hands. He turned to his friend. "I've never seen anything like it." Ron watched him closely. Harry did actually look a little astonished. If not of Draco, then of his reaction towards the blond. That alone was worth paying attention to. "I saw it and I couldn't see anything else, it was just... him. I even dreamed of him." Harry was staring at the wall of Ron's cubicle. After a moment Ron actually looked in the same direction to see what was so mesmerising. As he spotted the small rip in the soft cushioning of the partition, a resolute look dawned on Harry's face. "I want it, I want to wake up to it – every day – I want... I want him." Harry paused, tasting the words on his tongue. Delicious.

"For how long?"

Harry stared at his friend, feeling as helpless as his expression suggested. "As long as he'll have me."

He found Ron watching him with a careful expression. "I wasn't kidding when I said the guy's a force of nature."

The sense of relief at Ron's words made Harry realise exactly how much he'd hoped for a positive answer. "I don't doubt that. So what do I do?" His elbow on the desk, Harry's fingers raked through his hair, pausing midway to prop up his head. He looked stressed.

Ron seemed amused when he laughed, but Harry could help but feel he was laughing at Harry's expense. His best friend took pity on him. "The same thing anyone does when they're facing a natural disaster." At Harry's guarded curiosity, Ron chuckled. "Oh it will be a disaster. If he doesn't chew you up before he spits you out, you'll be lucky."

"What's your plan then?"

Ron's smile was slow and steady. "Disaster preparedness."

Author's Note for the Brit-pickers: Xerox was bought by a British Paper company, it is considered British now.