The Office

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 Heidi. Her reviews didn’t land on any big magic numbers, but they were always sweet, supportive and welcomed with a smile. Thank you, Heidi!


The Office- part 4...by Samayel


Draco woke with his head pounding violently. Wine. It was the wine that had done it. Sulfides. He would have been better off with gin or top shelf vodka. No…he had to drink the wine. Much of last night was horribly muddled. He remembered flinging empty bottles at the walls of the manor. He remembered crying. Ugh. Thank God no one had seen that but the house-elves! He remembered Apparating! Shit! He was…he was…

In Harry’s apartment. On Harry’s couch. Harry’s bloody ugly old couch that clashed with the equally hideous drapes.

Draco squeezed an eye open. He was curled in a fetal ball, taking up only a little more than half the couch, and he was covered in a blanket. Well…that was more than he’d expected. Harry couldn’t have been too angry at him for showing up here if he was still on the couch and was provided with a blanket. Draco shifted his head, then instantly regretted it as the movement sent his vision reeling and made his head pound even worse.

Harry. Harry was on the other end of the couch. His head was tipped back against the cushion, and his feet were on the floor. Harry had slept sitting next to him…all night. Draco’s mouth was bone dry. His breath was an offense against nature. His head was pulsating with the deep, low thud of a bass drum, and his eyes were crusted and gummed with the residue of tears and sleep. This was not a dignified way for a man of more than thirty years to wake.

His first attempt at sitting up failed miserably. His second was more successful…or less…depending on how you graded tumbling to the floor in an ungainly sprawl and moaning piteously.

“You’re up. Or down. Good. Coffee brewed automatically. I’ll get you a cuppa.”

Harry was up and moving. All Draco could really see were the shoes on Harry’s feet moving away after the man yawned and stood. Draco rolled onto his knees, pulling his arms underneath him. The rush of blood to his head was murder…sheer murder. How awful. Harry was being very reasonable, and it had to be under circumstances like this. Pathetic.

The bathroom beckoned from just a dozen steps away…the problem was reaching it. Draco would have gritted his teeth…but that made his head hurt even worse, so he crawled on hands and knees. Very undignified. There were potions that dealt with kind of situation…he just didn’t have them, and Harry couldn’t brew anything more complicated than what they’d learned in second year Potions at Hogwarts. There was nothing to be done but use the toilet and see about the healing power of coffee, which was limited at best.

It took quite a bit of doing, but when he’d made use of Harry’s toilet and borrowed a splash of mouthwash to clear his palate, the cool water he washed his face with took the edge off of his misery, and certainly improved his appearance. Harry was leaning against the wall, waiting by the door when he emerged, cup of coffee in his hand and waiting to be taken. Draco obliged that expectation immediately, drinking it with reverent silence before slouching toward the kitchen table and taking a seat.

Harry poured himself a cup of coffee in silence, then took the chair across from Draco. Silence hung over the two of them for a long while, punctuated by the sound of them sipping coffee quietly. It filled the room with the scent of fresh and well-ground beans, and it would have been a fine way to start a day, if it hadn’t been for the hard words and deeds that lingered between them.

“I’m sorry.” Draco felt odd even saying it. He’d apologized on occasion, but for anything so egregious, and usually with a calm air about him the entire while. This was very different.

Harry pushed two pills toward Draco, who looked at them quizzically.

“It’s aspirin. Muggle medicine. Just for such occasions. Put them in your mouth, take a sip of coffee, then swallow them. It’ll take at least half an hour before it does any good, but I haven’t got any hangover remedies lying about. I can cast a pain relieving spell if you like?”

Draco followed the instructions, wondering idly if it was poison, which would explain Harry’s complete calm. He shook the notion off a second later, remembering that he wasn’t dealing with Pansy. If Harry wanted to get even…he’d just…well…punch Draco in the face. He’d already done that…so it didn’t seem likely that revenge was in the offing.

“I mean it, you know. I am sorry. What I did was atrocious. I justified it because I was ashamed of having made such a spectacle of myself. I came because…because if I can’t have anything else, I’d like to at least not have made an enemy out of someone who was a very good friend…even if it was only for six months. Can you forgive me?”

Harry sipped quietly at his coffee, letting his silence linger a lot longer than Draco appreciated. Either he was deep in thought, or was a little too Slytherin for comfort and quite deliberately letting Draco suffer.

“Accepted. I’m sorry I punched you. I also said a few things I’d take back. Consider them taken back. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Really? I’m grateful for the cease-fire and the hospitality, but there isn’t much to be said. You’re straight, I wish you weren’t, and there isn’t anything for it but for me to conduct myself like a gentleman from here on in. You’re worth the effort. I’ll behave. End of story. If I walk out of here and still have a friend that will every so often tolerate an opera with me, I shall consider myself luckier than I’ve a right to be.”

Harry sipped his coffee again and stared at the shards of light peeking through the window. He was calm enough, but he was avoiding looking at Draco.

“I was at Luna’s last night.”

The words stung, but Harry didn‘t say them in a way that implied a desire to hurt. It was just very matter of fact. “I thought as much. That‘s your business. I haven‘t any say in the matter.”

“We had a very…unusual…conversation. I would be willing to admit…that just maybe…I asked Luna to the Ball…because I was uncomfortable with you all of a sudden. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I was just…suddenly…conscious…of your interest in me. More than before. I didn’t handle it well, and I didn’t explain myself at all. It might have helped if I’d at least talked to you about it.”

“That’s very reasonable of you, Harry. That’s a bit more like the fellow I know. I can say…with relative certainty…that I acted out of naked jealousy, which, by the way, is also the title of one of my favorite shades of green, but apparently I don’t wear it well. I drank too much. I made an ass of myself. I won’t do anything like that again. You’ve my wor-”

“Stop. Don’t promise what you can’t give. You’re human. We both slipped up in different ways. Maybe it will happen again. Maybe not. There’s something else I’d like to talk about, so let’s just put the last two weeks to rest, okay?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking over the brim of his cup with a bloodshot eye.

“Done. Two bad weeks pushed aside. What would you like to talk about?”

Harry was drumming fingers on the tabletop, clearly on edge. His gaze was almost aggressively directed in the direction of the window.

“You drink too much. I worry about you. I’d like you to try going without for awhile. If that works out okay, a splash now and again never hurt anyone, but I’d like you to stop hitting the sauce so much. I didn’t like seeing you that out of control. It didn’t seem much like the person I know…and like. How do you feel about that?”

Draco felt suddenly uneasy, which wasn’t that much different from a few minutes ago, but this was a turn he hadn’t expected the conversation to take.

“At the moment, sans hangover remedy, it sounds like a pretty fair idea. It’s very kind of you to worry after me. I…I suppose I should cut back a bit no matter what. A man’s only got one liver, and I’m lucky to still have it after the divorce, so I probably shouldn’t drive it to sue for separation on the grounds of cruelty.”

“Good. I’d like that very much. The thing is…I have this thing about…not wanting to lose people close to me. There aren’t that many people who are. I…I’d like the ones who are to be that way for a good long while. Tonks…Luna…Neville and Seamus…Ron…Hermione…and you.”

Draco closed his eyes. His head still hurt ferociously, but the words felt good. It was very different from the usual quiet and understated way their friendship had come about. There hadn’t been much talk of feelings, perhaps for reasons that were obvious now. Hearing his name spoken among those that Harry valued as his dearest friends was such a small thing, and yet it was much larger than it appeared.

“Thank you. I’ll give it a try. If I can be amusing while hung over, I can certainly keep my equilibrium while sober. It may not be pretty, but I’ll do it. I’d do a lot more than that for friends that matter.”

Harry was smirking in profile, blinking a little in the rising sunlight that cheered the apartment up a bit.

“How do I say this? Draco…some things have been pointed out to me…very indelicately…that gave me a lot to think about. I’m not nearly done thinking about them…yet, but there are some things I really ought to say now rather than later. I like women. A lot. Enough so that, when I’ve been around one long enough and felt they were really important to me, I’ve slept with them. I enjoyed it every single time. No regrets.”

Draco felt the stinging remainder of jealousy. It wasn’t gone. Not really. He could rationalize it and control it, but it was there. Harry was a genuinely nice guy, and good looking too. He was also funny, and honest, and downright decent. Listening to him wax eloquent about his fondness for the opposite sex was not something Draco really wanted to be subjected to at the moment…or ever.

“I know. There’s no need to-”

“I’m not finished yet. Let me get to the point. I’ve got friends who are men. It isn’t as if I don’t like them…I do. Very much so. Just…none like you. Knowing you…at least until a couple weeks ago…has been one of the most enlightening experiences of my life so far. There has never been a man who made such a difference in the way I felt every day. I’m very fond of you. The idea of not seeing you…actually bothers me. A lot. What I’m trying to say is…I don’t want to lose my friend…by trying to make him more than that…especially when I’d be trying something I’ve never done before.”

Draco noticed the coffee left in his cup was shivering and rippling. It wasn’t just the hangover…his hand was trembling.

‘What…what the hell are you saying?”

Harry’s jaw looked awfully tight, and he closed his eyes and faced Draco for the first time that morning, then opened his eyes while taking a deep breath, trapping Draco’s attention with twin flares of green.

“What I’m saying…for the record…is that, if you think you can keep your cool if this doesn’t work, I have only ever met one man I would try this with, and that man is you. Maybe I’m not ‘gay‘, in the sense that I have no interest in women, because I obviously do, but that doesn’t mean that I feel nothing…for you. I would like…very much…if we could date. Not rush into things or any of that, because I’m just barely wrapping my mind around what I’m saying now, but actually, formally, just date. I hear people do that kind of thing…when they both like each other quite a bit, and need some time to sort out if it ought to be something more.”

“How…how did this come about? I mean…yes! I’d like that…ridiculously so! Bloody hell, Harry! Are you serious? You feel that way…enough to call it dating?”

Harry chuckled. “You won’t like this part. Luna and I had a long chat last night. She opened my eyes about a few things. She’s good like that. It comes down to this: I care about you, and I genuinely enjoy your company. I miss you when you’re gone, and I’m happier when you’re around. I haven’t got any experience with blokes, but if I were to try this, I’d be doing it for all the right reasons, and I think I’d be trying it with the right person. I’d just like to know that, if it doesn’t work out, that it wouldn’t be the last I’d see of you. Luna also said…and I quote, ‘Just tell him I said that my ass looks great in those hot pants, and that when I finally have some pictures of a live Snorkack, he will soooo be sorry!’ You owe her one hell of an apology, because anyone who could go through what you subjected her to at the Ball and still defend the concept of you and me seeing each other seriously deserves a trophy.”

“My God. You’re serious. Luna…Luna Lovegood told you that we should go out? Fine…I’ll apologize to her! Would she like it written or spoken? I’ll take back everything I’ve ever said about her…except the part about the nail polish not matching her lipstick…that part wasn’t mean…it was just true, but I take back all the rest!”

Harry chuckled again. “You’re impossible…but this isn’t.”

He leaned across the table suddenly, one arm snaking out and landing on Draco’s shoulder. Draco had just enough time to manage a confused mumble of surprise before Harry’s lips were on his mouth. This wasn’t the shocked Harry of the living room floor months ago, this was the Harry Potter that acted with determination and swiftness. This was the person that Draco had awakened half a year ago. It wasn’t that it was a passionate kiss, or even a reckless one. It was calm, tentative and curious, yet still firm and sure. It took Draco most of a half minute before he could even manage to kiss back. Then a loud knock was heard at the door and their reverie was interrupted. Harry got up to answer it while Draco stared at the empty chair that Harry had just vacated.

“Buggery fuck! It figures someone would come calling just when I finally have a reason to be left alone for a bit!”

Harry was at the door, and looked gob-smacked when he opened it. Two Aurors stepped in a second later.

“Mr. Malfoy. If you’ll come with us, we have some questions we’d like you to answer. It seems that your former wife, Pansy Parkinson, was killed in what appears to have been an accident in Belgrade last night. I’m sorry to say this at such a time, but we’d be interested to know your whereabouts last evening, since foul play has not been ruled out. If you could accompany us to the Ministry, we’d like to have this matter resolved as quickly as possible.”

Draco looked to Harry with a glazed expression of shock and horror.

“You…you can’t be serious. Foul play? I spent last night here…I was on Harry’s couch. I had too much to drink and stayed the night. Now what about my daughter? Where is Cissy? I’m not going bloody anywhere until I know my daughter is safe!”

Harry snapped out of his stupor in time to throw his two cents worth in.

“He’s telling you the truth. I got in just before six, and he was already asleep on my couch. Draco couldn’t have been anywhere near Pansy last night. Now let’s hear where his child is!”

The older of the two Aurors cleared his throat and raised a hand for patience. “Needn’t worry for your child. She’s already being transferred to the London office as soon as the paperwork in Belgrade is cleared. We were notified last night that Ms. Parkinson had passed away, and our initial attempts to contact you failed. This morning we activated a few devices at the office and pinpointed your location so that we could expedite this matter. It wouldn’t do to leave your child unsupervised, and so she has been attended to by a representative from the Ministry since last night. She’ll be in London in an hour. All the more reason to please join us at the Ministry and help us clear this up as quickly as possible. I’m sure with Mr. Potter’s statements about your whereabouts, we can lay this to rest very shortly. Shall we then?”

The senior Auror motioned politely toward the door, and Draco looked Harry’s way and started walking for the door. “You’ll come too, won’t you?”

His back to the Aurors, Draco mouthed the plea he didn’t dare voice in front of others. His lips silently worked to shape the words ’Please…I need you.’ Harry grabbed a coat off the back of a chair and conjured his keys and wand into his hands.

“Right. Don’t you worry. We’ll have this sorted out fast enough, and I’ll bloody well make sure they treat you right! You and your daughter are going home together, and that’s final!”

A series of muted pops later, Harry, Draco and the Auror’s were marching through the offices of the Ministry, bound for one of the better appointed interrogation chambers, which, despite the fearsome sounding name, were actually supplied with rather good furnishings. As soon as they made themselves comfortable, the junior Auror spelled a quill to record the conversation and readied some fresh parchments, while the senior Auror prepared his questions. Harry waited quietly near the door, hoping that Draco wouldn’t lose his already frayed temper during this process.

“Draco, Lord Malfoy…we’ll dispense with Veritaserum on this occasion, since we already have the statement of Harry Potter, an active Auror, confirming your whereabouts this past night. The Ministry retains the right to call for Veritaserum testimony in the event that information should come to light casting doubt upon the truth of your statements today. Is this understood?”

Draco answered quickly. “Yes. Understood.”

“Ahem. First…and of course the most obvious question…have you, or any party known to you, been party to a plan to harm, defame, or kill your former wife, Pansy Parkinson?”

“Absolutely not! I haven’t even been told what happened, or where my daughter is yet. I haven’t any idea how she might have come to harm. You said it was an accident of some kind…and that’s all I know.”

“Right…right. Then do you, or any parties known to you, have any reason to suspect that someone would wish to harm, defame or kill Pansy Parkinson?”

“Dear God, man! Have you ever met her? The woman is a demon clothed in human flesh! I can’t think of anyone who ever met her that wouldn’t wish ill upon her! I can’t even tell you with any certainty that her mother didn’t pray nightly for her demise! The only thing I’m sure she ever did that was good was give birth to our daughter…you know…the one I want to see as soon as possible!”

“Mr. Malfoy…be calm. This won’t take much longer. We just need these standard statements out of the way as a formality. Now, having stated that you are first uninvolved, and second unaware, of any plot against Pansy Parkinson, can you please give a detailed account of the events of last night…for the record?”

Draco took a deep breath and calmed himself. “For the record…I was drinking almost from the time I came home early from work. My house-elves can attest to that. Perhaps a little after five o’clock I Apparated to Harry’s apartment, with the intention of apologizing for my conduct at the Charitable Ball two weeks ago. An apology that was long overdue, by the way. Harry wasn’t in, and I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him. I woke up with a terrible hangover, and we were just having coffee and making peace. Then you knocked, and here we are.”

The Auror turned to Harry.

“Mr. Potter. Can we add a statement of your own to the record? Regarding the events of last night from your perspective.”

Harry shrugged. “Sure. I left work and dropped by Luna Lovegood’s place. I was there a little less than a half hour altogether, then I Apparated home. It was sometime just before six in the evening, and I found him on the couch, sleeping it off. I threw a blanket over him and had my evening tea, then fell asleep on the other end of the couch. He was still curled up when I woke up. Hadn’t moved an inch. I had coffee set to brew when we got up, maybe twenty minutes before you two arrived. We talked about the ‘incident’ at the Charitable Ball and that was that. Nothing more to tell. I can tell you that Draco wouldn’t have killed her under any circumstances. I know him better than most people ever will. He’d have cheerfully hexed her nine way from Sunday if she hadn’t been the mother of his child, but this man has never been and is not a murderer.”

Draco gave Harry a careworn look of gratitude. He didn’t particularly like the oblique reference to Harry’s knowledge that he wasn’t a killer. His father had killed Muggles by the score, often for sheer amusement, during the war, but Draco knew full well that he hadn’t the nerve for that kind of thing. Not that he didn’t like to see an enemy suffering…but killing someone, for any reason, simply wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do. It was just that, having a Mark on his arm, and a family reputation to live up to, it still stung a bit to be reminded that he wasn’t really a serious threat to anyone. Nonetheless, Harry’s testimony counted for a lot, and it felt good to be reminded that someone believed him completely and without reservation.

The older Auror flipped through a couple of parchments, then lifted his head and smiled.

“Well! That gibes with our timeline of events. We’ll consider your testimony at an end, and we’ll contact you if there are any further questions. Your daughter has been placed in the care of an Auror three doors down on the left, and you have our condolences for your loss, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco sighed relief. “Marvelous. Thank you! Now…with all these questions out of the way, can I at least ask what happened to Pansy? Cissy wasn’t exposed to anything…awful…was she?”

The younger Auror folded the papers and fled the room quickly while the senior Auror hemmed and hawed.

“Well…ahhh…how to put it? You daughter saw nothing…inappropriate. She was in bed asleep when the…uh…‘accident’…happened.”

“And your point is? Please! Divorce aside, the woman was the mother of my child! What happened to Pansy?”

The dignified gentleman blushed furiously and looked away.

“Well…you see…as near as we can tell…the report from Belgrade indicates that…well…she was crushed to death.”

“Good God! Crushed?”

“Uh…yes. Very suddenly.”

“Crushed by what?”

“A horse.”

“What? Was she out riding at night?”

“No…not as such. It…eh…fell on her.”

“You’re bloody serious? A horse just fell on her, but she wasn’t out riding? Did the bloody thing just fall over?”

“Well…no. It fell…directly on top of her.”

“Alright! That’s enough! Just tell me…how in the bloody blazes did a horse just ‘fall’ directly onto her?!”

The poor man looked stricken. “With all due respect…it appears that Ms. Parkinson had arranged for the animal to be suspended by a lever and pulley, and was beneath it, engaged in an act of intercourse with the animal, when the rope snapped. She was crushed beneath it…almost instantly. I’m so terribly sorry, sir.”

The man hurried off, flustered beyond his ability to say anymore. Draco stood stock still, staring at the wall with a blank expression. Harry stepped into his view, waving a hand in front of his eyes to get a reaction.

“Draco? Draco? Are you alright?”

“Alright? Oh…yeah. I’m alright. I just can’t quite accept that the universe has such a sense of poetic justice.”

TBC!!!