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Author's Note: Many thanks to my beta Laurel, who has taken on this story while Robert is on sabbatical.

Chapter 6 Wearing Down

Harry felt like he never got any work done these days. A thick report sat in front of him and he knew that all he had to do was crack it open to the first page and he would get interrupted. He sat there staring at the parchment before his eyes flicked up to the doorway and then back down to the report again. With a sigh, he thought perhaps he was over exaggerating and opened the packet to begin reading the first page.

“Where do you think we should eat lunch today?” Ron asked from the doorway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry grumbled to himself before glaring up at his perky friend. “It’s only a quarter past nine, Ron. You’ve barely digested breakfast and you’re already asking about lunch?”

Ron raised his arms up in mock defense. “I’m only trying to plan out my day, mate. No reason to be so cranky.”

“I’m not cranky, I’m just insanely behind on this work because of the constant interruptions,” Harry replied bitterly. He didn’t feel cranky, he felt perfectly normal. It was hardly his fault that Ron had grown more annoying over the past few years.

“You are cranky. Apparently Hermione’s right and you need to get laid,” Ron noted with a wide toothy grin. It took all Harry’s willpower not to chuck his ‘World’s Greatest Boss’ mug right at that pearly smile.

“Please tell me that you and Mione have more interesting subjects to discuss besides my sex life,” Harry groaned.

“Or lack thereof,” Ron corrected. “Seriously man, how long has it been? Maybe Malfoy has good timing after all.”

Harry rolled his eyes and with a flick of his fingers levitated his mug –which was filled to the brim with scalding hot coffee- and let it hover threateningly over Ron’s head –just out of reach. “Are you actually suggesting I let Malfoy fuck me?”

“Er, no… not exactly,” Ron stammered, his eyes repeatedly flicking up toward the floating coffee mug. “Maybe you should turn the tables and fuck him instead.”

The thought of throwing the arrogant blond Slytherin to the bed and taking him from behind wasn’t completely unsavory, it fact, it made Harry a little warmer than he would have liked. He already knew the man was attractive, but that didn’t give Malfoy license to be a complete slag. “Not an entirely distasteful suggestion, but he would still win, and if there is one thing I don’t do –it’s let Malfoy win… at anything,” Harry replied sharply. “His whole plan simply hinges on bedding me, I’m fairly certain he couldn’t care less who tops.”

“Maybe he does, and anyhow, is that so bad? It’s not that I’m asking you to fall in love with the prat, just let him put some of that sparkle back in your eyes,” Ron countered with a wink, while carefully stepping out from under the hovering hot beverage.

“My eyes are plenty sparkly,” Harry grumbled while levitating his drink back to his desk. “Anyhow, if it were that simple I would just go out and pick up a guy at some club. I wouldn’t let Malfoy have me.”

“Well that settles it,” Ron replied, clapping his hands together as if he had mastered some glorious achievement. “Tonight we go trolling for blokes.”

“Oh really?” Harry asked with crooked smirk. “You thinking of switching sides then?”

Ron cringed and shook his head. “Me? No way. But you need something to take your mind off of work and off of Malfoy. I think a club filled with sweaty, half naked men is just the place for that, don’t you?”

Harry sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” asked a velvety voice from the doorway. Both men turned to see Draco standing in the entrance to Harry’s office with a single white rose in his hand. Ron snickered under his breath and Harry shot him a deadly warning glance.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked menacingly.

“I came to bring you this,” Draco replied, placing the rose on Harry’s desk and leaning across it to get closer to Harry.

“Are you dim? Do you even remember our last conversation? I thought you were going to lay off this game until you decided-“

“Decided to meet your terms, yes, I know. But that’s precisely why I’m here. I want to make a commitment to you, Harry,” he replied, seemingly genuine with his words.

“Do you have a ring in your pocket, Malfoy?” Ron teased. “Are you prepared to get down on one knee?”

“Sod off, Weasel,” Draco hissed.

“Now, now,” Harry chastised with a lingering grin from Ron’s teasing. “Did you forget my other rules, the ones that don’t pertain to sex? Or did you not even bother listening once you found out you weren’t allowed to bugger me?”

“Right,” Draco grumbled. “Sorry about that, Ronald. I do hope that you and I can be the best of mates one day soon.”

Ron and Harry both sniggered under their breath and Draco rolled his eyes. “So, what don’t you know about?” Draco asked at last, clearly trying to change the subject. “Anything I can help you with?”

Harry shouted ‘No!’ and Ron barked ‘Yes’ simultaneously and Harry sank further into his chair.

Draco turned his charming grin toward Ron and strode over to take the seat beside the redhead. “Do tell, Weasel.”

“We’re taking Harry to a bar tonight to get him a date,” Ron explained, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“If Potter wants a date he has one right here in his office,” Draco offered.

“I don’t do redheads,” Harry muttered and Ron playfully stuck out his tongue at him.

“You offend me, Harry. Why won’t you even consider one little date with me?” Draco prompted.

“You know exactly why, Malfoy. You’re not my type,” Harry grumbled.

“Potter, I’m everyone’s type,” Malfoy scoffed.

“Not mine,” Harry insisted. “I want a reliable, considerate, funny-“ he began but Draco cut him off.

“I’m all of those things,” he huffed and Harry gave a snort of laughter before continuing with his list.

“Handsome”

“Clearly,” Draco replied.

“Humble,” Harry added snidely.

“I’m rich, I can pay others to be humble for me,” he scoffed in return.

“Clever,” Harry continued.

“Slytherin,” Draco announced, pointing at his own chest.

“But not mean,” Harry added.

“Oh, well now you’re just being picky,” Draco teased and Harry couldn’t help but grin in response.

“Fine, so you’re a bit funny,” Harry conceded. “But you’re still all wrong for me, Malfoy.”

“How do you even know?” the blonde demanded.

“Do I have to pull out the file again?” Harry retorted with a smirk of his own.

“If everything you think you know about me is in that file then you’re sorely missing out, Potter. That’s like me saying that I know all there is to know about Harry Potter from the tabloid stories in the papers,” Draco replied indignantly.

“It’s a little bit different,” Harry scoffed.

“How?” Draco asked. “The tabloids are simply stories that other people tell about you without your permission or even your own point of view. How is that file in your desk any different from that? I bet if I were to combine every demeaning newspaper tale about you into a folder it would be thicker than mine.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as he realized that Draco made a valid point. He hated it when people judged him based solely on what they read in Witch Weekly, and here he was doing the very same thing to Malfoy.

“He’s got a point, mate,” Ron interjected.

“Shut it,” Harry hissed in his friend’s direction.

“Fine, I’ll just leave you two alone then,” Ron muttered bitterly. “Cranky arsehole,” he added before exiting and Harry rolled his eyes.

“So I suppose you have a reasonable explanation for all the documents I have accrued about you, Malfoy?” he asked when it was clear that Ron would not return.

“Why don’t you ask me that over dinner?” Draco offered with a wink.

“Insufferable,” Harry muttered.

“Are we still naming off traits you’d like in a boyfriend? Because I have that one in spades,” Draco teased and Harry’s face broke into a grin without his permission.

“Fine,” he replied at last. “Let’s just say that hypothetically speaking I were to agree to a date… what would you have in mind?”

“Well, hypothetically speaking, because you’re a tad skittish, I think someplace public would be most appropriate,” Draco began.

“I’m listening,” Harry said, prompting Malfoy to continue.

“Perhaps a place where you’d have the backup of friends,” he added.

“It sounds as though you have something in mind already,” Harry mused.

With a delicately raised eyebrow, Draco nodded. “I wanted to ask you to the Annual Malfoy Gala. Your team will already be there working security and there will be plenty of other witnesses to ensure that I can’t take advantage of the virtuous Harry Potter.”

He rolled his eyes and thought on it a moment. Chances were he’d probably get roped into going anyhow, and this way he could get both Malfoy and his well-meaning best friend off of his back for a while. “And if I agree, would you promise to keep your distance?” Harry asked.

“How do you mean?” the Slytherin asked, obviously perplexed.

“I mean, you’ll have to agree that you won’t even press for so much as a goodnight kiss,” Harry elaborated. “No kissing, no touching and certainly no fucking. If you want this date with me than it will be all about getting to know each other better.”

Draco sighed and leaned heavily against the wall. “You just suck the fun right out of everything don’t you, Potter?”

“So long as it’s clear that it’s only fun I’ll be sucking,” Harry retorted with a wry grin.

Draco chuckled and extended his hand out to Harry. Harry eyed it for a moment before clasping his own hand inside Malfoy’s pale iron grip. “It’s a date,” Draco announced before turning and gliding from Harry’s office, clearly knowing it was best to leave while he was ahead.

With a far too dramatic sigh Harry fell back into his seat and wondered how in Merlin’s name he’d ended up agreeing to a date with none other than the notorious Draco Malfoy.

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Draco was on the verge of dancing triumphantly in the Ministry corridor when a familiar redhead approached him. “I take it by the victory grin on that pointy face of yours that you got Harry to agree to something,” Ron asked.

“As a matter of fact I did. He’s going to accompany me to the Malfoy Gala,” Draco explained.

“Well, I hope you realize that just because I’ve been trying to persuade Harry to give in to you it doesn’t mean I won’t fracture your wand hand and worse if you harm even a hair on his head,” Ron replied lightly, as if he’d been asking Draco about the weather outside.

“Duly noted,” Draco replied with a bow.

“I’m serious, Malfoy. We all know your reputation around here and if there’s one group of people you don’t want to piss off it’s the Auror department. They’ve been looking to get a hold of your scrawny neck for years,” Ron warned.

“And you?” Draco asked. “Why are you even telling me this?”

“I think Harry could benefit from some companionship –even if it is with you,” he grumbled in reply.

Draco rolled his eyes and pursed his lips slightly at the dig, but remained otherwise objective. He understood why the Weasel might hate him, he even understood why Potter was so reluctant to give him audience; they were enemies all through school after all –and the information compiled in that file didn’t do him any favors either. “Do you think I even stand a chance with him?” Draco asked honestly. He never expected the wooing to be a short-lived affair; he knew Harry Potter was going to be a hard sell, but that’s what made it worth the effort. However, Draco still found himself doubting his own powers of seduction –something he’d never done before.

“I think you have an uphill battle ahead of you, mountainous in fact,” Ron admitted. “And I’d be surprised if you managed to get so much as a hand job out of him.”

Draco coughed, not having expected The Weasel to be so blunt. “Is he a prude all of a sudden?”

Ron’s freckled forehead wrinkled deeply as he frowned across at Draco. “What do you mean, all of a sudden? Harry’s just picky.”

“I mean, he certainly didn’t used to be. His sexual exploits are something of legend amongst some of my peers,” Draco mused.

“What?” Ron exclaimed. “No, that can’t be right. Harry’s never even dated anyone too seriously.”

“That’s sort of the point, Weasley,” Draco laughed, but promptly shut his mouth. Apparently Potter’s best friend was clueless as to how the Gryffindor Hero used to live, and Draco was in no position to tattle, not if he still wanted that date anyway. “Look, I’ve said too much already. I’m probably mixing it up anyway. Let’s just say we drop it, hm?”

“But,” Ron stammered, still looking a bit shaken and Draco just patted him firmly on the back.

“No worries. Tell Potter I’ll pick him up at six on Saturday, alright?” Draco added and left the redhead sputtering in the corridor. He didn’t want to be there when Weasley exploded all over the office.

As he apparated back to the manor, Draco couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. Harry had turned him away at every juncture, but there he was, finally coming home with some good news. To be honest, he quite looked forward to his date with Potter. The man was intriguing for sure, always up to some sort of mischief in school, then the rumors from after the war were nothing to scoff at either. Draco bet Harry was a lion in the sack, just like his Gryffindor mascot.

It would also be an interesting change of pace for Draco to not have to dwell on targeting Potter toward the bedroom all night long. Since Harry made it quite clear he wouldn’t even be so much as holding hands with him, it would allow Draco to work the hall properly and reestablish himself with some of the more elite guests. Harry on his arm would serve to help toward that end as well; Harry Potter was always the talk of any party and with the hero as his date Draco couldn’t fail to impress even the shrewdest of attendees.

Directly after the war the Malfoy name could be likened to a particularly nasty venereal disease, but after millions in donations, hundreds of appearances and dozens of interviews given to widely publicized wizarding magazines, Draco had pulled it from the dredges and gave the Malfoy name a new life –one that was synonymous with sex appeal.

Still, there were those that lingered, pillars in the community who lived based on ancient traditions –mostly cranky old prudish Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs- and these few still hated Draco and his entire family. It made it extremely difficult for Draco to navigate through some of the social doors that these people controlled and kept firmly locked against him. Dating Harry could help with that, even if it did take him a full year to bed the luscious man, though he doubted the wait would be nearly so long as that.

“Good news, Lucius,” Draco announced upon entering his father’s study. “I’ve found a date to our Gala.”

“Don’t you mean your Gala?” his father replied bitterly.

“Well, yes I do, but it’s still in the name ‘Malfoy’ after all, not simply ‘Draco the Amazing’. That would be rude of me, but yes I suppose you’re right. I have done all the work in arranging it, and you’ll be locked in your quarters all night,” Draco mused, as if thinking of these points for the first time. “Perhaps I should rename the event next year.”

Lucius rolled his eyes and went back to reading his dusty old book. Draco didn’t care too much for being ignored so he walked further into the room and cleared his throat. With a dreadfully bored expression, his father finally looked up. “Is there anything else, son?” he asked, practically spitting out the last word.

“You never asked whom I was taking,” Draco pointed out with a wry grin.

“Oh, well I suppose that’s because I couldn’t care less,” his father responded dryly. “I’m just happy to see you’ve moved on from this Potter nonsense.”

“Quite the contrary, father,” Draco replied with a smirk. “Harry’s agreed to be my date for the Gala.”

“H- he, what?” Lucius sputtered, unable to contain his horrified surprise. “But I thought he turned you down last week when he was here?”

“Well, it seems I’m just irresistible,” Draco gloated.

“Insufferable is more like it,” Lucius scoffed. “What did you do to wear him down?”

“I simply pointed out that he was treating me unfairly and he relented,” Draco explained. “It’s only one date, father, and I promised him I’d be a perfect gentleman.”

“Do you even know how?” his father mocked and Draco sneered at him.

“Regardless, you have nothing to worry about –yet,” Draco added with a wink and abruptly left the study to head upstairs to his own quarters. He wanted to gaze upon the golden tag that would soon be firmly attached to one of Harry Potter’s undergarments.

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Lucius fumed silently for several moments after Draco left before finally apparating directly into his wife’s private salon. She jumped slightly at his abrupt entrance, clearly startled as Lucius rarely apparated within his own home.

“So then what has you behaving like a freshly legal seventeen year old boy, Lucius?” she asked calmly as she reclaimed her teacup from the small table beside where she sat.

“Sorry, love. I’ve just been given some fairly disturbing news,” he admitted softly.

Narcissa’s expression morphed into that of extreme concern upon hearing his words and she got up at once, as if ready to bolt from the room. “What is it, is it Draco? Is he okay?” she asked worriedly.

“He’s fine, until I murder him myself,” Lucius grumbled.

With a sigh his wife sat back down and took a few deep breaths. “What is it that he’s done now, Lucius?”

“He’s secured a date with Potter,” he replied sharply.

“Lucius, that’s terrific news. So he’s taken some of my advice I see,” she beamed. “He’s such a clever boy.”

“Too clever,” Lucius hissed. “They’ll be here at the Manor. Do you know how many bedrooms he’d have access to without even leaving the lower floors? He’s already done half the work by simply getting Potter to meet him here. We’re ruined,” he groaned.

Narcissa clucked her tongue and motioned her husband to the settee beside her. “You have too little faith in our son, Lucius. This affair will set him on the right path, I promise you.”

“How? How can it set anyone on the right path if we’re all rotting in Azkaban because Draco humiliated the Head Auror and Savior of the Wizarding world? The Malfoy name will remain a blemish on society and all we’ve worked for will be for naught,” Lucius moaned. He wanted with all his heart to believe his son could change, but every time his heart held hope for the boy, Draco dashed it to pieces with another act of rebellion.

“You have too little faith in me as well,” she chastised. “Why don’t you just calm down and see what happens at the party?” she suggested. “If you’re displeased with how things go, then perhaps we can assess it further.”

With a deep regretful sigh, Lucius nodded. “Something damn miraculous would have to occur,” he mumbled and his wife chuckled softly before summoning the house elf to prepare their lunch. It would be a long week waiting to see what their fate might hold, especially knowing that it was in the hands of Draco.

Author's Note: Who would like an invitation to the Annual Malfoy Gala?