An Auror a Day

A/N ~ this started off as a rp between me and an old rp partner but since it was a good story line, I’ve decided to post it and finish it. So far there are 12 chapters that we rp’d so it’s not all mine.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter 2

“They’re alive,” Harry said quietly. “And being very prickly about it. Not surprising, really. I would be too.” He felt a pang of sympathy for the other man and reached out to touch his shoulder. He left it there for a brief second before running it nervously through his hair, mussing it up even more than it was usually.

“Look, Malfoy, can we at least try to get through this with some form of civility?”

“I-you what? You've been getting updates and you haven't bothered to tell me?" Draco gasped, thankful that his parents were still alive and well but fuming that Harry hadn't bothered to inform him. Fuck being civil. He shoved Harry hard in the chest. "Leave. Me. Alone." He didn't care if this ended in a fist fight or duel. In fact, Draco thought that might be a good thing - it would put some time in and give him something to feel apart from constant boredom and worry.

Harry grabbed Draco’s arms and twisted his body to restrain him. “I only got the update this morning because I threatened to do something to Kingsley that his lady-friend wouldn’t be too impressed with. Now will you bloody well calm down!” Harry panted, muscles twitching.

Their faces were a mere inch apart and Draco found his eyes flickering to Harry's lips for the briefest of seconds before he managed to wrench his arms free. He entered the kitchen and moved to the counter in front of a large window, his palms on the wooden top and his shoulders tensed. He ran through it in his head - his parents were alive and Harry had threatened Kingsley into telling him what was going on... did that mean that Harry did actually care? He just couldn't get his head around it.

Harry moved to the doorway and stayed there, arms crossed before turning around to give Malfoy some privacy. He sighed and sagged, leaning against the doorframe.

“I wish this was bloody over,” he muttered. He didn’t feel sorry for Draco. Or that was what he was trying to tell himself. It certainly didn’t feel good to have him in his arms. Not one bit.

Liar. That little voice that sounded suspiciously like Hermione and her lie despising. “Dammit!” He swore viciously.

Draco peeped over his shoulder at Harry and jumped a little when the other shouted. It was only then that he began to realise that this was probably as stressful for Harry as it was for himself. Harry wasn't getting anything from this, he was in a house he was unfamiliar with, a house where he was once held prisoner and almost killed in and he was away from those that he loved for the foreseeable future. He reckoned it would only be another week but if Draco knew the Death Eaters, he had spent a lot of time around them so he thought he did, they wouldn't be easy to catch. Draco decided to busy himself with making something to eat. The Ministry had liberated the Malfoy house elves after the war, much to Draco's annoyance. At first he couldn't make toast without burning it to a crisp but he was getting better. He tried not to look at Harry as he flicked his wand here and there and watched the ingredients to make a lasagne prepare themselves.

The smells made Harry turn around and he moved further into the kitchen. “Want help, Malfoy?” He asked in a voice that tried to be cheerful. He needed to do something. What he wouldn’t give to be able to fly a few laps of the Quidditch pitch back at school.

He watched as the ingredients moved as Draco dictated, and hid a slight smirk. Hermione scores again. Though he still had the annoying problem of Dobby and Kreacher as they refused to leave him.

“Do you have anything, anything resembling wizarding chess or exploding snap?”

"I got it, thanks. And I'm afraid not. My father woul... I mean, I never liked stuff like that." Draco cleared his throat as placed a pan on the stove and stirred the contents. He had played things like that at Hogwarts on the odd occasion but was never permitted to play anything like it at home. Not that there was anyone to play it with. His father preferred him to read, practice his spells or fly. That made him grit his teeth. Once the food was in the oven he went to close one of the lower cupboards only to notice a small catch on the bottom, beneath some bowls. Draco got down on his knees and shoved everything in there to one side roughly, not caring that the other door had opened and pots and pans were now rolling about the floor loudly. He shoved his fingers under the catch and lifted up a portion of the wooden cupboard bottom to reveal a stash of bottles and packets of cigarettes. "The sneaky git!" He knew exactly who these belonged to; no wonder his mother spent so much time in here.

”Oh shit. I wonder if I could convince Kingsley not to hex me if I set an owl to Ron to send me some games?” Harry said with a wince. Kingsley’d specifically told Harry no contact with the outside world. And he’d broken then to threaten him with singing in soprano.

He perked up when he heard Draco’s comment. “What?”

“My bloody mother, that's what," Draco mumbled, sitting back on his haunches and waving his wand so that all the bottles and cigarettes flew out of the cupboard and landed on the table. "No wonder she spent so much time in here." He shoved all of the stuff back in the cupboard and moved to examine the bottles. "

Harry whistled. “Those are... very expensive and very potent. I think I have that one in the Potter vault.” He pointed at a specific bottle. He snorted at the cigarettes. “Never knew wizards or witches smoked fags. Thought they went in for pipes and all that stuff.”

He picked up a packed and sniffed it, wincing. “Smells worse than Wolfsbane.”

"They don't usually but my father hates the smell of pipe smoke so my mother bought in Muggle cigarettes. The smell isn't as strong... and much easier to disguise." He smiled at that and shook his head. "She told us she quit at least three years ago. Obviously not." Draco missed his mother more than ever at that point and found himself looking down at an opened packet in his hand, his thumb running over the brand name. "She'll be going nuts without them. Wherever she is."

Harry gave an evil grin. “Maybe giving those Aurors hell if they attempt to give a nicotine-craving woman the treatment they would have given you.” That would be poetic justice, Harry thought.

“You miss them.... Mal...Draco, I’m sorry. I know you’d rather I not be here.”

Draco looked up in surprise when Harry called him by his first name for the first time ever but had to drop his gaze again a few seconds later. For some reason hearing his name coming from the other's lips made him blush like a schoolgirl. "Don't apologise. And I would much rather have you here than someone who would treat me like a dog." He pulled a cigarette out of the packet and rolled it his fingers for a few seconds before putting it between his lips and lighting it. He noticed the disapproving look Harry was giving him and smiled. "Just the one. For her."

”Just one,” Harry agreed. “But no drink. I don’t think I could taking Draco Malfoy, Flaming Poof drunk.” His words held a teasing note to them. He had another reason for banning the drink. If they were intoxicated and attacked. A small shiver ran down his body as he imagined what Snape would say. Hell what Snape would do to him if he let his beloved godson die. If Snape was still alive.

“Just imagine what your mother would do if she found her stash gone.”

"Surely she won't miss one bottle?" Draco held the cigarette between his lips and uncorked a bottle of wine before Harry could object. "Come on. One bottle with dinner... please?" Draco had to take a few deep drags after that. He had just pretty much asked Harry Potter to have dinner with him AND said 'please' in the same sentence. Oh god.

Harry closed his eyes so that if Draco pouted when he said no, he wouldn’t be tempted to wipe the pout off his face. With his tongue. The smell of smoke was making him dizzy and he seemed addicted to watching Draco’s lips close around the cigarette. A deep breath didn’t abate his dizziness, either.

“No...” he whispered.

Draco pouted and frowned. "Why?" It came out in a whiney tone. He took the bottle over to the counter anyway and reached for a glass from the shelf. Why shouldn't he, just because Harry said no. "Well, please yourself. I'm having one even if you don't."

”And if we’re attack whilst your drunk?” Harry asked, opening his eyes and, with a silent Accio, he removed the bottle from Draco’s hand. Another flick of his wand banished the rest of the alcohol to his locked trunk upstairs. He raised a brow at Draco, bottle in hand and hand on hip.

“Surely a Malfoy knows better.”

Draco had been on the verge of pouring himself a glass when the bottle flew from his hand. He turned with a huff just in time to see the rest of the bottles zooming out of the kitchen. "I said one glass, Potter. Not the whole fucking bottle." The blonde moved over to the other and grabbed the bottle, trying to pull him toward him. Harry had a firm grip. "I'm hardly going to be hammered off one little glass."

”One glass will slow your reaction rate,” Harry said like he’d learned it by rote. And he had. Auror training took the fun out of simple joys. However much he missed the odd tipple, he would rather not have a somewhat intoxicated Draco around. He didn’t think his resistance would hold out if Draco hit on him.

He held his grip firm, not too tight, but not loose enough for Draco to win the bottle back. If we’re not careful, this could end nasty.

"No. It. Won't." Draco's other hand gripped the neck of the bottle and he yanked a little harder. It didn't come free of Harry's hands but the raven haired man was forced to step forward a little which meant they were pretty much flush against each other, except for the their hands holding the bottle between them. Draco was still pouting and he had to fight hard to keep his gaze on Harry's eyes.

Oh God. OhGodohGodohGod! Harry gasped, feeling the heat from Draco’s body. He was pouting and Harry wanted to.... God. “If I let you have one glass... will I have your word that you’ll stop?” He asked, his eyes firmly on that pout. Oh how would those lips feel on his? Or on other parts of his body? If he didn’t stop thinking thoughts like this then he’d have a problem. Which was starting to occur.

Dammit!

It took a while for Harry's question to register in Draco's brain since his strength had failed him and his eyes were glued on the other's lips. He had to blink a few times to clear his mind of images of those lips trailing down his stomach and even then all he could do was nod feebly and hope to god he wasn't blushing.*

“Well, have one glass.” He released the bottle, but didn’t step away. He didn’t want to. He remained in Draco’s personal space and looked up at him as if daring the other man to comment. “One glass mind,” he said, a little huskily. “I’ll be watching you.”

Guhhh. God I wish you were watching me. Watching me sucking your--"Fine." He had to close his eyes when he said it, as if not looking at Harry would prevent him from saying the things that he was thinking. Huh, well, seemed to work. Harry had let go of the bottle but still hadn't moved away. Draco found that he didn't want to either but knew he should... Just a few more seconds. He opened his eyes. This feels kind of nice. God he's hot. I mean, his body is... I mean, heat. His body heat is nice. Oh god.

Harry kissed him. It was a short kiss and could be described as chaste, if one went in for kissing analysis. His eyes widened when he removed his lips and he thought Shit. Oh shit. Momentarily, he forgot his duty and ran from the room.

It was only half way down the corridor that he remembered and made his way back to the kitchen. But he wouldn’t go inside. Oh no. No way would he face that ridicule. He only hoped Draco wouldn’t get him removed on sexual harassment charges. Though could a chaste kiss be called harassment?

Please R&R!