Chapter Text
Four years ago
When Harry gets paired with Draco Malfoy, he is equal parts baffled and unsurprised.
Well, baffled because why would Malfoy want to be an Auror? If Harry knows one person who would avoid a physical confrontation at all costs, it's Malfoy. And by physical confrontation, he means any situation that can be potentially dangerous for the git.
The Slytherin sense of self-preservation is too strong for any of that lot to want to become Aurors, so why?
And unsurprised because who else would want to partner with the git?
Nevertheless, it's done. He and Malfoy have been announced partners, they've been assigned desks next to each other, and tomorrow they start the abridged version of training everyone involved in the war is being given.
Draco Malfoy is going to be his partner and Harry can see it ending in disaster, no matter which way they go from here.
***
"Who's your partner??!!”
Ron's face is dangerously red, clashing horribly with his hair and isn't that a very odd thing to think. It's the influence of his new partner, he's sure.
"Malfoy. It's Malfoy."
Ron's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it isn't until Hermione comes and sits by them that Ron can bring himself to speak again. Even then, it's a very limited correspondence.
"Malfoy is your partner? How did that git even get into the Aurors?!"
"He had a fair trial, Ron." But Hermione's calm response is not enough for her husband who insists on prolonging Harry's torture.
"Why haven't you said no? Do you want him to be your partner?!"
The way Ron's eyes are almost bulging out of his head is comical, and Harry wants to laugh. He also wants to be done with this conversation and just laugh it off but Ron's looking increasingly like he's going to be sick so it's better to just answer.
"No, Ron. I--Kingsley explained why we've been paired."
"And?"
Sighing, he takes a sip from his beer and answers: "And no one else wants to work with Malfoy."
"Do you?"
For some reason, he feels very self-conscious right now, maybe it's the way Ron's eyes are almost piercing through him. He can't help but rub the back of his neck a little self-consciously. "Well--”
"And how is this your problem, anyway?"
He lifts the bottle to his mouth and mumbles, "He's alright.”
Whatever argument Ron was going to spring on him, Hermione stops him with a hand on his arm: “We didn't fight the war for this kind of discrimination to continue.”
Ron sputters, almost foaming at the mouth. "He called you--that word, Hermione! Remember what he did to Hagrid?”
Hermione Granger-Weasley looks the very picture of calm elegance when she says, “And he got slapped by me for it.”
Harry and Ron both snicker like school-children at her answer because that was brilliant, the time that it happened and it's still brilliant years later. "Malfoy's face when he saw you lifting your hand the second time!"
"Yes well, stop being children about this. We are all carrying the weight of our past on our shoulders, so let's just move on."
Ron rolls his eyes, and he whines and moans all through dinner but in the end, he sees a good thing to come out of this. "You'll be there to see the git failing because there is no way he'd be a good auror. You'll see him messing up on every case!"
“And I'll tell you all about it.”
“Brilliant!"
***
Present day
***
Whoever is knocking on his door is relentless.
Harry's been trying to ignore the sound for five minutes at least, but whoever it is just won't go away!
So, he gets out of bed grumbling and groaning, finds his glasses on the bedside table and stumbles out towards the main door. The wood is practically vibrating under the assault of the anonymous knocker. Well, he says anonymous but he knows it's--
"What took you so long, Potter?"
Draco just barges in, he doesn't wait for Harry to step aside and just wiggles around in the narrow corridor till they're both stuck - plastered to each other head to toe, walls pushing them together. It's too early in the day for this. Harry sighs through his nose, eyes closing in frustration.
His cramped little flat isn't the best place to have company, even if it's only his git of a partner showing up uninvited. The flat is a few hundred square feet across which isn't bad for this part of town and Harry prefers the cozy interior but the corridor leading to the door is narrow enough that Ron has to walk a certain way to pass through it. He had tried magically expanding the area in that first week but it had shrunk back while Harry was standing in the corridor and the blind panic of seeing the walls actually closing in on him has kept him from ever trying that again.
Draco, of course, knows this thanks to his habit of showing up unannounced. He has, on many occasions, complained about the closet Harry lives in. And in particular, the corridor, and the time Ron had gotten stuck on the far end has been mentioned in multiple insults.
And yet here they are.
Harry doesn't like being this close to Draco, especially when he isn't even wearing any trousers and Draco won't stop moving. Irritated, Harry lifts up a hand to stop the git from squirming and getting them stuck even worse.
For a moment, they are both still and the intimacy of the moment is lost on neither.
But the very next second, Harry pushes into the wall behind him and slides out towards the kitchen, feeling his naked chest drag across Draco's in the process - the soft linen of his shirt is cool against Harry's skin. He takes a moment to breathe in and out through the haze of arousal.
Draco pays him no regard as he saunters by and barges into the kitchen looking for Merlin knows what. He hasn't noticed Harry's grumpy and sleepy look yet.
Harry’ll wait.
"Put the kettle on, I've got news."
Looks like he'll be waiting a long time.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, he steps past the source of said frustration and goes to fill up the kettle. When he looks up from the stream of water, Draco is rifling through the top cupboards and moving things around like it's his kitchen.
He looks oddly out of place in the tiny kitchen, with his tailor made suit and his impeccable hair. And at the same time, he looks like he belongs here with his hands gripping two mugs and a pack of bread clutched between his teeth. Harry doubts he would ever behave this way in public, a Malfoy using his teeth to carry things - Lucius is probably rolling in his grave right now.
Freezing cold water on his skin from the overflowing kettle brings him back to the task at hand, and he snatches his eyes away and busies himself with putting tea on.
Draco doesn't seem to mind him at all as he makes his way around the kitchen with familiarity in his every move. Resting a hip against the shelf, he watches as Harry heats up the pan and toasts two slices of bread. In silence they stand till Draco says he wants one too.
Sighing, Harry puts the slices on a plate and pushes it toward the intruder: "You want anything on your toast?”
Draco nods and asks, “Got jam?”
He points toward the pantry, “Second shelf.”
Draco pushes off of the counter and disappears into the little pantry, giving Harry a much needed moment to breathe properly. His eyes slip closed and for just a second, the only noise in the kitchen is the sound of butter sizzling in the pan. For just a second, he can be himself and not constantly on edge and waiting for something to happen--
"You have an abysmal pantry. Then again, I'm surprised you even have one given the size of this shoebox you live in."
Squaring his shoulders, Harry looks at Draco and just shakes his head. They stand in silence waiting for the kettle to go.
Some days like this, it takes a real effort for Harry to not give in and just burn down this façade they've created.
***