Despite the fact that he was fully clothed and that they had a table between them, Draco almost felt naked in front of Harry, feeling as if the other was seeing right through his defences. It was overwhelming and Draco was trying desperately to at least keep it a little together, but he did want to give in to Harry.
“For Merlin’s sake Harry,” Draco exhaled, finding himself unable to say much else to what was going on. Draco knew that he wanted Harry, he almost always did, and now that he was offering it up so willingly, it was impossible for Draco to say no.
“Are you all talk or?”

_________________

The challenge in Draco’s voice made Harry’s heart rate spike, striking something within him that had probably always been a detrimental part of their relationship. No matter how much he had come to enjoy Draco’s company, there was still something within Harry that was so easily riled by Draco specifically. Harry so desperately wanted to prove himself to Draco, juvenile and competitive.
So, he stood up, stepping around the table and towards Draco. Giving the other no chance to adjust his position on the chair, Harry, for now, felt satisfied with deafening the challenge on Draco’s lips with a kiss, both hands finding Draco’s jaw to tip his chin upwards to ease the angle.

It was juvenile and Draco had known that already when he challenged Harry on his statement, yet Draco also couldn’t find it in himself to mind, having a lot of fun with what this offered to them. Even if there were no witnesses to them, it still felt forbidden to even think of kissing each other or engage in other sexual activities directly after work, and yet it was too enticing to stop.
Eagerly returning Harry’s kiss, Draco stretched in his chair, angle slightly awkward, but not bothering with acting like he didn’t desperately want the other man.

_________________

It was greatly rewarding feeling Draco stretch into their kiss, a subtle confirmation that Draco, too, was on edge going into this. It made a shiver run down Harry’s spine, making his head spin.
“You’re such an butthole,” Harry muttered when their lips parted, though there was no shortage of fondness in his voice.
Draco had gotten under Harry’s skin in more ways than one. Harry spent the entire day not only recalling the ghosting of Draco’s touch but the electricity of his magic beneath his skin, and one day Harry would have to face the fact that it had become an issue.
That wasn’t today.
“I didn’t get anything done today,” Harry complained in a breath, though the way his pupils had dilated told that he hadn’t really minded.
Harry dropped his hands from Draco’s face to his thighs, fingers brushing against the inside of Draco’s knee to encourage him to swivel on the chair, turning away from the table. “Been thinking about you all day.”

Harry was absolutely intoxicating, Draco being painfully aware of just how willing he was to do anything that Harry asked of him.
He turned easily, spreading his legs to make room for Harry between them. It was pitiful just how little prompting he needed to follow Harry’s bidding, completely in tune with what was asked of him and how much he wanted it.
It wasn’t made better by Harry declaring that he had been thinking about him all day, sending shivers down his spine with the sense of being desired. It was a lot to take in and yet Draco couldn’t shy away from it, wanting more every single time Harry even gave him a little.
“You didn’t seem to mind,” Draco stated in a soft voice, a soft grin on his lips as he did so.

_________________

Dropping to his knees, Harry sent Draco an annoyed look, loaded with things Harry himself had yet to process. He had noticed, too, the way his frustrations with Draco never came to a cusp, simply making his blood burn unbearably hot; the feeling, Harry had come to realize, was an ingrained sense of competitiveness. He had started to wonder when a coincidence became a preference.
His eyes had once again lowered, further leaning forward as he reached to undo Draco’s fly.
“Shut up,” Harry cussed under his breath, the snark deflating by the fact that Draco was painfully right. What Harry should probably have said was for Draco to mind his own business, or better yet, stay out of his head.

____
Draco could hardly remember them even moving to the couch, lying there tangled up in each other, Draco with his head on Harry’s chest and simply feeling at ease. No matter how rushed and juvenile their latest encounters had felt, Draco still felt good about their arrangement, finding that the added freedom only made it all the better for the two of them.
Not much in the mood to speak, Draco simply lay and listened to Harry’s heartbeat, which was growing slowed the longer they had been lying there.

_________________

Despite the precedence they had so tentatively established, it had surprised Harry tremendously when Draco had continued to seek out his presence and proximity. Spending a moment in each other's company was easily done in bed, but the kitchen invited no such intimacy. The fact that Draco had actively sought out a room that permitted it had been enough to elevate Harry’s heart rate all over again. Harry was perpetually surprised that Draco would want that from him.
“Can I take this out?” he asked after a long silence, his breath barely audible with the weight of Draco’s head on his chest.
Harry was referring to Draco’s wand; while it had slouched considerably, it still managed to contain the vast majority of Draco’s hair. Accompanying the question, Harry’s hand moved from Draco’s shoulder blades upwards, his fingers trailing Draco’s hairline at the nape of his neck.

At first, Draco wasn’t really sure what Harry was asking, rarely even considering the fact that he had his wand stuck in his hair. It was only when Harry’s fingers trailed to his hairline that Draco realised what he was asking and simply hummed in agreement.
It might have been stupid for them to have just found the couch, both of them aware that there would be better places for them to rest, but Draco hadn’t wanted to move too far, yet also deeply craving being held like this. It was something that he could quickly get used to, and quickly was getting used to, and as long as Harry wanted to indulge him, Draco was going to indulge.
“You really like the hair, huh?” Draco managed with a soft smile, his voice muffled by the fact that his face was mostly hidden in Harry’s chest.

_________________

Getting to untangle Draco’s wand from his hair was possibly among the more intimate acts they had shared, Harry careful not to pull at the strands. It was strange how familiar Draco’s wand still felt in Harry’s hand, and after a month of not having gotten to use his own wand, holding Draco’s made Harry’s stomach flip, unsettled in a way that was hard to describe.
He quickly discarded it the only place he could reach; he let it slip from his fingers and onto the rug.
Having been so caught up in the wand, Harry barely registered Draco’s comment, finding it borderline incoherent.
“What do you mean?” he asked, not out of snark or ill will.
Harry didn’t think he had any particular fixation on Draco’s hair, but now that it fell freely, allowing him to run his hand through it to brush out the swirls, it was hard to deny that it was a sight to behold.

Draco hadn’t really thought too much of his comment, having only noticed that Harry seemed to like it better when his hair was loose and was commenting on that.
Maybe it was just because Draco hadn’t really been with anyone who seemed to appreciate the longer hair, but it was something that he had noticed about Harry that always took him a little by surprise. It wasn’t like he minded, but he never really considered his hair too much so it always felt a little jarring to have special attention paid to it.
“I don’t know, you just always seem to like it better loose,” Draco added, moving his head slightly to be able to speak better, but not significantly much.

_________________

Harry hummed distantly, figuring that that was a possibility. He certainly didn’t /dislike/ Draco’s hair, nor everything that came with it being down. Draco wore his hair down in bed, or when executing magic too complicated to do wandless; both of which made Harry’s heart rate quicken.
“Maybe, yeah,” he reluctantly agreed, his smile seeping into the tone of his voice.
Distractedly, Harry ran a hand through Draco’s hair, slow and heavy as his fingers raked against Draco’s scalp.
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted with a breath, as if he had to justify a pattern he hadn’t realized existed. He had tipped his head to the side, better allowing him to watch his fingers leave the ends of Draco’s hair, no longer obscured by the curve of his head.
“I don’t think I ever expected you to grow your hair out, is all.”

Draco hummed at that, having not really expected Harry to justify the pattern, nor did Draco even know if there was a pattern to justify. However, he didn’t mind Harry playing with his hair and talking about the background for his interest in it. In fact, Draco found it endearing and found himself smiling as Harry explained himself.
“It wasn’t really a conscious decision,” Draco admitted, having never really given the hair too much thought, it was just something that had happened over time.
“I do a shoddy cutting charm,” he added, as if that explained the entire thing. In fact, Draco mostly just hadn’t bothered to do it, having found that the maintenance of just having long hair was easer than having to remember to actually cut it.

_________________

Draco’s words were a subtle reminder of the life Draco had lived throughout the passing decade; it hadn’t crossed Harry’s mind that, if Draco himself didn’t trim it, it wouldn’t get done, seemingly nobody else there to intervene.
The addition, however, made Harry snort.
“I doubt it,” he grinned, having a hard time believing that a household charm would be the thing that gave Draco trouble.
The angle in which Draco had his head turned didn’t allow for symmetry in the way Harry combed through his hair. Instead, he thoughtlessly sectioned off a piece at Draco’s temple, fingers tracing the hairline.
“But yeah,” Harry breathed, a thoughtless admission to a point Draco had made a while ago. He was splitting the piece of hair into three strands, his finger drawing two lines through it behind Draco’s ear. “It looks good on you.”

Draco smiled softly at that, always feeling warm and flattered by just how much trust Harry was putting into his magic. Sure, Draco knew that he was a proficient wizard, but it just felt different when it came from Harry.
“You think so?” Draco asked, sincerely having never considered how he looked like with the long hair, having never gotten any input on it either. It made Draco feel more comfortable with the long hair, liking how it felt when Harry ran his fingers through it, making him feel calm and at ease.

_________________

With the three strands, Harry started a clumsy plaid, the motions made awkward by having to do the braid away from him rather than towards him. Despite how effectively that thoughtless little task consumed his attention, Draco’s question still managed to make him smile.
“You’ fishing for compliments?” Harry chuckled, a pointed tease to his voice as his fingers continued to weave the strands of hair together, slowly but steadily.

When Harry asked, Draco couldn’t stop himself from grinning. It had been a genuine enough question, really and truly having no idea whether or not long hair suited him, but the way that Harry seemed to like it felt reassuring to Draco nonetheless.
“Is it working,” he asked with a crooked grin, looking up at Harry.

_________________

___________________

It had been almost a week ago Harry had spent an entire day by the Floo, being sent on an eternal bureaucratic loop that had sent him through Robards office connexion no less than four times. During the last, the Head Auror had finally approved access to the dark artefacts collected at the house in Aberdeen, under the stipulation that Draco’s workspace would be deemed sufficiently warded for their examination.
A few days later, Auror Inspector and close colleague Paul Buchannan had arrived through the Floo to carry out the evaluation. Though a decade their senior, Harry had been far more at ease in his company; subsequently he hadn’t dressed in full regalia, only appearing in his uniform trousers and dress shirt. The wand holster was equally strapped to his flank, though upon close inspection it remained empty.
They had already examined the wards protecting the exterior walls - the one that blared blue when Harry had tried to leave - and were now meticulously combing through the enhanced security measures warding the study.
Harry had slumped back against a nearby chest of drawers, arms lazily supporting his weight as they reached behind him, watching as Paul had spent the past ten minutes opening and shutting the door, each time testing the security of a different ward.

Crouched by the door frame, Paul had incarnated a spell that sent shimmers dusting over the flooring, watching for any shift in the magic laced in the door, looking for weak points in the joinery. When the dust settled on the floor boards instead of drifting beneath the door, Paul flicked his wand, making them disappear altogether.
“Is the floor warded from either side, too?” Paul asked, steadying himself with a hand on his knee as he looked up at Malfoy. So far, the man had proved himself helpful in answering his questions, having already established that the walls had been warded both from within and outside the room.
“Do you have access to the underside?” he added, not even sure the Manor had a cellar extending this far over.

While Draco had been nervous about having yet another auror come by the manor, he had quickly found an ease in talking with Buchannan. It had been clear several time already that he was impressed with the work that Draco had done on his wards, which made Draco all the more willing to share.
“We can go look at the cellar,” Draco stated, having used several days on making wards for his study, not wanting to leave any room for the magic to get out, and having also realised that the cellar ran directly underneath his study as well.
“There runs a cellar directly underneath, which I have also warded,” Draco stated, feeling confident about his own work, knowing just how much effort he had put into it and how he refused to leave it be undermined. His spell work was absolutely solid and for once he actually felt somewhat validated in it, having not heard one bad word from Buchannan so far.
“Want me to lead the way?”

_________________

Paul nodded, finding little urgency in that task. Everything he had seen was a testament to meticulous and thorough work, and he had no immediate necessity to confirm it.
“I’ll finish up this room, and we’ll go look at it,” he huffed, pushing himself up to an upright position, feeling his forties creeping nearer in the ache of his knees.
He sent a glance to the enchanted quill filling out his running bureaucracy. “The primary exit passes assessment 93 A through, uh, F. Check no to downward drift, 94.”
When the quill resumed checking the markers Paul had asked of it, his attention returned to Malfoy, more amicably able to engage in small talk.
“Insufficient warding of the subterrain’s one of the most common issues with home workspaces,” Paul noted, flipping his wand in his fingers to point the tip towards the flooring, emphasizing his point. “Bleeds through the groundwater.”
His eyes had drifted, looking around the room for the next point on his agenda. While doing so, his eyes found Potter, who for the past while hadn’t contributed much to the conversation.
“Comfortable there?” Paul poked fun at him, making the younger Auror grin. “Right at home, the loaf.”

Harry had admittedly been paying more attention to the way Draco carried himself than to the particular test Paul was carrying out; being addressed made him perk up, and then smile.
“Perfectly,” Harry agreed, making a point of not straightening his posture.

Unable to think of anything that could counter that, Paul just huffed, his attention returning to Malfoy, who was proving a better aid than Potter.
“Any other exits behind any of the book cases?” he asked, out of courtesy and not because he wouldn’t check himself. “Deep storage?”