Work Text:
Inspired by the song “Can I Get It” by Adele
Harry thinks Malfoy is messing with him, but he just doesn’t understand why. After all, they were becoming friends—or were they?
OR
The one where Draco has had enough and finally speaks his mind.
Harry was trying to keep up with Hermione’s pace when he saw him—Draco Malfoy—leaning casually against a wall in the busy atrium of the Ministry.One foot resting against the wall, a smug smile on his lips, and those steel-grey eyes following Harry’s every move.
So Harry stopped and looked around, making sure it was really him that had captured Malfoy’s attention. The smug smile grew wider.
“Everything alright?” Harry asked, coming to a stop an arm’s length away from the blond.
“Yes, thanks for asking.” Malfoy’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second before he took a deep breath—like someone about to tackle a difficult task—looked Harry straight in the eyes, and said, “You look very fit, Potter.”
And then he pushed away from the wall, walked past Harry, and—later, Harry would ask himself if he had hallucinated—let his gaze roam over every inch of Harry’s body before winking at him and heading toward the apparation zones.
And just like that, he was gone.
Harry stood there, flabbergasted, questioning his sanity.
“Did… did Malfoy just… fit?” he asked aloud, but no one paid him any attention. The whole situation was so surreal he nearly forgot why he had come here in the first place.
After a few seconds, he remembered and stormed off in Hermione’s direction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I swear he’s up to something. Why else would he say that?”
Harry paced back and forth in Ron’s office—the office of the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports—thinking out loud while his best friend sat in his chair, trying to help him.
“Mate, I think you’re totally onto something. Maybe he just wanted to get a reaction out of you… but why?”
“I think he’s messing with me. Trying to prove that… Wait, what is he trying to prove?”
“What did our brain say?” Ron asked.
Harry sighed. “She said, and I quote, ‘What is the matter with you and Draco? Now that he’s nice, you think he’s up to something? Some people actually grow up, Harry.’”
Ron leaned back in his chair. “You know… maybe she’s right.”
Harry let out a loud sigh.
“No, let me finish!” Ron said quickly. “Maybe she’s right, BUT there have been a few moments in our lives when she wasn’t. And if that’s the case, WE need to investigate.”
Feeling relieved to have at least one friend on his side, Harry playfully punched Ron’s shoulder. But something was still nagging at the back of his mind.
“You know, I had a weird sense of déjà vu about all of this… but never mind.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next time he saw the tall blond man was at pub night.
Harry had always thought his alumni class was something special. After all these years, they still met up on the second Wednesday of every month for a night at the pub. And nearly everyone from their year showed up, along with some of the older and younger students. Sure, people skipped a night here and there for birthdays or other obligations, but never twice in a row.
Especially not The Four :
Theodore “the undefeated quiz champion” Nott,
Pansy “gossip queen” Parkinson,
Blaise “you-have-to-try-this” Zabini,
and Draco “best-friend-to-everyone” Malfoy.
Harry had never really understood why Malfoy was friends with everyone except him.
Well… except him.
Ron tried to stay on Harry’s side, but every pub night, without fail, he ended up arm in arm with Malfoy, bickering over Quidditch and laughing together.
It wasn’t like Harry and Malfoy didn’t get along... in fact, quite the opposite. They were… something like friends. But it wasn’t the same as with everyone else.
And, in Harry’s opinion, it was all Malfoy’s fault.
Malfoy treated him differently.
And it sucked. Big time.
When Harry arrived at the pub a little late, The Four and his best friends were, of course, already there.
Hermione was deep in a heated debate with Blaise, probably about food, as usual. To outsiders, it might have looked like they were arguing, but they were just both naturally loud.
Ron, on the other hand, was trying to worm his way into Nott’s quiz team. He was determined to win for once.
Pansy was sandwiched between Dean and Seamus, no doubt catching up on the latest gossip.
At first, Harry thought no one had noticed his arrival.
And then Malfoy turned to him holding out Harry’s favorite drink with a smile that made Harry’s heart clench.
“Hey, oh Chosen One. Look what I got for you. Rough day?” Malfoy asked, helping Harry out of his jacket. His eyes lingered on Harry’s Auror robes for just a moment too long.
“Oh, thank fuck. Malfoy, you’re my savior,” Harry groaned, hugging him, grabbing the pint, and downing it in one go.
“You have no idea. Robards is making me do all the work because, and I quote, ‘In one year, I won’t be here to tell you all this, so you have to learn it now, Potter.’ So I do his job and mine, and then—”
He let everything out.
And Malfoy—his arm draped casually around Harry’s waist—just guided him to their usual spot, humming in agreement here and there.
For the first time in a while, Harry felt truly heard .
He didn’t know why it was all pouring out so suddenly. He hadn’t even realized how much of a burden it had been.
When he finally finished, he looked down at his hands, feeling a little embarrassed.
“Sorry, don’t know where that came from.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry. Becoming a Head of Department isn’t an easy thing to go through. Do you—” Malfoy hesitated. “And forgive me if I’m overstepping—do you ever talk to someone about all of this?”
Harry blinked at him.
“You know, most of us go to Parvati from time to time. She’s a great listener, especially for people who don’t have family or a significant other to share these things with.”
Malfoy took one of Harry’s hands and absentmindedly traced patterns on it with his index finger.
It was soothing until Harry remembered their awkward interaction earlier that week.
He quickly pulled his hand back. He barely caught the brief flash of disappointment on Malfoy’s face.
“What was that on Monday?”
“Pardon me?”
A blond eyebrow shot up.
“Don’t you pardon me , Malfoy. You know what I mean. This whole fit thing. Why did you do it? What is it that you want? Embarrass me in front of others? But why compliment me?”
He searched Malfoy’s face for an answer.
But his frenemy just shook his head and ran a hand over his face.
“No, Potter, I don’t want to embarrass you. I just learned, after all these years, that subtlety is not one of your strengths. So, I had to be more… blunt? Yeah, that’s probably the right word. I had to be blunter and more open about what I want you to know. And on Monday? You totally looked fit. Nothing compared to today, though I’ve always had a thing for those Auror robes.”
Harry had made the mistake of drinking while listening to him, and now he spluttered at that last sentence. What the fuck?
Malfoy smirked, stood up, and stretched lazily.
“Look, you’ve got a pretty face and a really gorgeous body, but I don’t want to be drenched in Guinness. Have a nice evening, and don’t be a sore loser this time.”
And with that, he walked off to join his other friends.
“Everything alright, mate?” Ron asked, handing him some napkins. “What happened? Your face looks like a tomato.”
Harry accepted the napkins gratefully and started wiping his face.
“Malfoy happened. Said he couldn’t be subtle around me anymore or I’d never get it. Cryptic as fuck.”
Hermione appeared at their booth, helping to clean the table.
“If you ask me, he’s the opposite of cryptic, Harry.”
“Oh, not you too,” Harry groaned. “Okay, yeah, I was oblivious as fuck when I was a teenager, I admit it. But I’ll be Head Auror in less than a year and not because of my name or what I did as a teenager. I got this position because I am really, really good at my job. So don’t try to tell me I’m dense or some bullshit like that. He didn’t even say why he’s suddenly coming out with all these things. We’ve had some kind of truce going for years now, and—”
But his best friend interrupted him.
“Hold on! SUDDENLY? ” Hermione crossed her arms. “Harry, you… No, you know what? You and Ronald don’t want to be called dense? Fine. You’re a good Auror, that’s not debatable. So figure it out yourself.”
And with that, she walked off.
“By Merlin’s underpants, what was that?” Ron sighed. “Do you think I’m in trouble too?”
He groaned. “I better go after her. Sorry, mate.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another week, another disturbing thing Malfoy did.
One moment, Harry was working on scheduling plans for the Aurors; the next, there were flowers on his desk.
They were beautiful, a bouquet of colorful lilies with a small card tucked inside.
Carefully, he pulled the note from the bouquet. The handwriting was elegant, almost too perfect.
Everyone keeps saying you have her eyes, but after everything I’ve heard, I believe you also have her assertiveness. You’re right, you deserve this promotion. I am proud of you.
MLD
Lost for words, Harry stared down at the bouquet and the note.
Even if he didn’t understand why Malfoy was doing this, something about it felt familiar.
As if… something similar had happened before.
No matter how hard he tried to remember, he couldn’t place it.
Malfoy had never given him flowers before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Harry tossed and turned in his sleep.
Malfoy was constantly on his mind. His strange behavior, the lilies, the compliment, the way he had comforted him at the pub.
It was as if…
Suddenly, Harry was wide awake.
Draco Malfoy wasn’t just flirting with him.
He was courting him.
As if Malfoy had anticipated this exact moment, an owl flapped outside Harry’s bedroom window, trying to get in.
Harry got up, opened the window, and let the familiar eagle owl swoop inside. It landed on his bed, dropped an envelope and a small package, and then made its way toward the kitchen.
“Nice to see you, Alabaster,” Harry called after Malfoy’s owl.
He turned his attention to the package first because of course he did.
It was small, and inside was one of the newest Snitches.
Its body was translucent, with a faint golden shimmer. They were supposed to be much harder to spot in a game. Harry instantly remembered the time he and Malfoy had talked about them two years ago, in the Ministry canteen.
“I swear to Merlin and Morgana, they look sooo cool,” Harry had gushed, “but honestly? They won’t be on the market for at least five years. But can you imagine being one of the lucky few who actually get to test them?”
He had talked about the new Snitch for twenty whole minutes and Malfoy had listened. Really listened. Asking the right questions, making the right comments, engaged in a way most people weren’t.
It had made Harry happy, sitting there in the middle of a regular Thursday lunch break, talking to Malfoy about something he loved.
“How do they decide who gets to be a test subject?” Malfoy had asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe they’ve already picked them?”
“Mhm… maybe.”
And Harry had definitely noticed the glint in those striking grey eyes.
Now, with shaking hands, he opened the envelope.
Look who is now officially one of the 50 testers for this new baby (don’t act surprised, I know you opened the package first).
Congratulations, Harry.
Maybe you fancy a match with me one day?
Looking forward to it.
Draco
And there it was again.
Harry, completely speechless, not knowing what to do with any of this.
How had Malfoy managed to get him on the list?
And why did those last two sentences sound so familiar?
What was this all about?
Carefully, he placed the Snitch back in its box and set it on his bedside table.
The envelope still in his hands, he lay back in bed and closed his eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He really wanted to invite Malfoy to a play, but the reality was that he didn’t have time in the coming weeks. His work kept him so busy that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. Even Hermione had started calling him a workaholic.
He couldn’t make it to pub nights, missed some of the Weasleys’ birthdays, and hadn’t even gotten the chance to talk to Malfoy.
It was ironic almost all of them had ended up working for the Ministry.
Except the Slytherins.
Not a single one of them had taken their rightful place at the Wizengamot. Not one of them had gone into politics or become a lobbyist.
Pansy worked for The Daily Prophet. Blaise had his own bakery. Theodore had opened a preschool for young witches and wizards.
And Malfoy?
Well, Malfoy worked part-time here and there. Sometimes as a bartender, sometimes as a potioneer. He took photos for Pansy, made deliveries for Blaise.
Every week, it was something different.
Harry was pretty sure Malfoy had even worked as a beekeeper for a few weeks.
With a genuine smile, he thought back to the day they had called their truce at Hogwarts.
Back in eighth year.
They had been in the Great Hall. Malfoy had been standing by a wall, casually throwing out some fancy remark about Harry’s new outfit, and—
Wait. Just a moment.
Harry finally understood why all of this had felt like déjà vu.
They’d had similar conversations before.
Grabbing a piece of parchment, he started jotting things down, comparing Malfoy’s recent behavior to moments from their past.
- Saying I look fit = Our first interaction without fighting at Hogwarts
- Lilies and telling me he’s proud =
He frowned, thinking long and hard about that one.
Then it hit him.
Like a bolt of lightning.
One Halloween, Harry had gone to the cemetery, like every year.
But that time had been different.
He and Ginny had broken up. Ron had been crashing on his couch a few nights a week because he and Hermione had a massive fight. Hagrid had passed away from cancer.
And Ron had told him that he wanted to transfer to another department so Hermione wouldn’t have to constantly worry about his safety.
That day had been rough.
As he entered the cemetery, his ex-nemesis suddenly apparated next to him.
"Look, I’m just over there on that bench, okay? It’s just… I thought you shouldn’t be alone."
And with that, Malfoy had walked to a bench near James and Lily Potter’s graves and sat down.
In the freezing rain.
After a few quiet moments by his parents' graves, Harry moved on to Sirius’, Remus’ and Tonks’, and finally, to Hagrid’s.
And then, he sat down next to Malfoy.
He took a deep breath. In. Out.
"You know how they say it gets better with time?" Malfoy murmured, staring out into the void.
"They all lie."
"Oh, they totally lie." Harry agreed. "But… you know. It helps. Telling yourself that it’ll get better."
And just like that, Harry started talking.
About his parents. About Remus, Sirius, Tonks, and Hagrid.
He told Malfoy stories about them like he actually knew them.
They laughed.
And after a while, Malfoy opened up too.
Stories about his childhood. His parents. His godfather, Sev. His grim grandfather.
It had been easy.
Sitting there in the rain, swapping family stories with Draco Malfoy.
It had felt right.
“You know what, Scarhead? I like to think they’re proud of us.I mean… I am.”
- Saying I look fit = Our first interaction without fighting at Hogwarts
- Lilies and telling me he’s proud = Halloween—our first real conversation without other friends
He hadn’t realized it back then.
But Malfoy had been telling him—in his own way—that Harry should be proud of himself.
With all his ridiculously fancy words.
Sometimes, Harry had been sure Malfoy was just being sarcastic.
But now?
Now he knew better.
And here was the final clue:
Asking Harry outright if he wanted to go flying with him.
And signing with Draco.
The first thing they had done after Ron’s promotion was securing VIP tickets for the Chudley Cannons.
Okay.
Draco had secured the tickets. And the VIP box. And everything else.
But he had insisted that Harry help him with it.
They had several lunches and meetings to organize everything.
And in their last meeting before Ron’s promotion Malfoy had said how astonishing it would be,
if they all could go flying together.
Thinking back on it now, Harry groaned.
How stupid could he be?
Maybe Malfoy was right.
Maybe Harry really was oblivious.
But he could fix this.
He would fix this.
Before he could do anything, though—
Robards entered his office, grinning like a maniac.
"So, Potter. Today’s the day. Oh, I love this part. It’s going to be fascinating."
Harry just raised an eyebrow.
"I’ve been keeping an eye on you this past month, and I think you’re ready. Today is my official last day, Potter."
Now Harry was really paying attention.
"Your last day? You said you’d stay for another year!"
"Yeah, I lied."
Robards grinned wider.
"Look, that was my last chance to prank you. And also I wanted to make sure you were really committed. And you are, my boy!"
Smiling, he walked up and pulled Harry into a brief hug.
"And now, we get to the best part. Kingsley should be here any minute to take your oath. After that, you’ll meet the other Heads of Department. Not all of them just the two nobody knows about except for us. After that, I get my memory stored and erased, and I’m off."
Harry frowned.
"Wait! what do you mean, you get your memory taken?"
"You see, no one is supposed to know who the real Heads of the Unspeakables are. Or that we even have the IAD."
"The IAD?"
"Department of Information Acquisition and Destruction." Robards winked.
"Oh, look—Kingsley’s here!"
Kingsley arrived alone.
Harry took the Unbreakable Oath, swearing never to reveal who he was about to meet.
And then—
A side door to his office opened.
Through it walked—
Hermione Granger-Weasley.
And Draco fucking Malfoy.
"CONGRATULATIONS!" Hermione practically shrieked, throwing her arms around him.
"Oh, it’s sooooo good to finally have you know my real position. Oh, hi, by the way, I’m the Head of the Unspeakables."
She grinned, wide and bright.
Harry had to smile back.
"I knew you were way too smart to just be a secretary!"
He playfully punched her shoulder before pulling her into another hug.
Head of the Unspeakables.
Then, he turned to Malfoy.
The bastard looked so smug about all of this.
"How long have you known I’d be promoted today?"
"Oh, about… half a year?"
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Not surprised at all, now."
He sighed.
"I’m guessing you’re the Head of the IAD, then?"
Malfoy nodded.
Harry hummed.
"That explains a lot, Draco."
This time, he watched carefully for a reaction.
And there it was—
A slight blush.
That was all he needed.
"Now that that’s settled," Robards clapped his hands.
"Can we erase my memory and get me out of here?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The day felt never-ending.
His promotion was the talk of the Ministry.
People kept coming to congratulate him. He had to delegate tasks, name a representative, and give a speech in front of the entire Auror Department.
The Daily Prophet was there—namely Pansy—to take pictures and interview both him and Robards.
But eventually, it all came to an end.
And Harry knew exactly what he wanted to do more than anything else.
He apparated to a street just a few blocks away from his home.
Now, standing there, he let out a small chuckle finally understanding why he had wanted to move to this neighborhood in the first place.
He walked for a few minutes until he reached his destination.
And then—
He waited.
A soft plop in the nearby alley made him straighten up.
Blond hair.
That was the first thing he saw because Malfoy was writing something on a parchment as he walked.
"Watch out," Harry called out, loud enough for Draco to stop in his tracks.
He watched as the blond man tucked the parchment away, smirking slightly before slowly raising his gaze to meet Harry’s.
"Oh, the Golden Boy, right on my doorstep. To what do I owe this honor?"
The smirk remained.
"Someone told me I was dumb. You know, I don’t like being called stupid, but I have to admit… maybe I was a little blind."
Draco tried to suppress his smile by biting his lip.
It looked dangerously good.
"How so?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
Harry took a deep breath and stepped closer.
He had to look up just a little.
"Well… I had a complicated childhood. And teenage years. And it all only really settled a few years ago. I had to come to terms with a lot of things. And now that I have… I finally had the time to think about other things."
He reached out, fingers brushing against Draco’s jacket.
"Sounds good to me. What kind of other things?" Draco’s voice dropped lower.
The sound of it sent goosebumps down Harry’s spine. The good kind.
Harry’s hands trembled.
He looked up into silver eyes.
"You."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~