They didn’t usually work together; Draco had gone into Cursebreaking after an extended apprenticeship at Gringotts, and Harry had moved into the Special Investigation division after serving his mandatory five years on the beat. It wasn’t often the DMLE brought in outside consultants, but the case was high-profile and Draco was the best in the business; he had a mind like a steel trap and a knack for undoing other wizard’s attempts at laying down Gordian knots of magic and malice.
Harry didn’t mind having Draco assigned to the case, he liked it, in fact. It meant long hours sifting through evidence, and late nights with takeaways snuck into the office. It meant taking turns to make the tea, and discovering that Draco simply wouldn’t drink his if it wasn’t served in a fine bone china mug. It meant Harry got to spend his days with him, for a while at least, and not just his nights.
That had started a while ago—the nights, that is—first with blowjob in the men’s loo at the Pickled Piskie that had left Harry with shaking knees and the unfading memory of Draco’s hair tangled around his fingers, and grey eyes that promised this was just the start. And it was the beginning. After that it had been a deeply gratifying fumble in Ginny and Blaise’s box bedroom, then mutual handjobs at Dean’s exhibition at the Tate. After that they decided that perhaps their friends had put up with enough, and the next time they’d just left the pub early and tumbled into Draco’s bed with intent. Now most nights Harry fell asleep close to Draco, skin to skin.
Harry hadn’t been sure they’d manage to work well together—the sex was incredible, and the moments of something like tenderness were scary and delicate and filled Harry with hope, but that wasn’t the same as functioning properly in a professional environment—but Draco was bloody good at what he did, and Harry was surprised and proud that they had done it. They had closed the case, and made the arrests, and now all they had to do was put together the files for the prosecution service.
Six weeks of working together every day, and Harry still found himself a little bit fascinated by the breadth of Draco’s shoulders as he sat at their shared desk and scribbled his way through report after report. Harry had done his bit, and was waiting for Draco to finish adding his analysis of the curses and hexes their suspect had used before they could call it a day.
Finally, Draco dropped his quill and shoved the scrolls of paperwork away from himself. He rubbed his face with inkstained hands and huffed a laugh into them.
“Thank fuck that’s finished. Merlin, I’d rather be out chasing that obstinate shit than having to write another Ministry-mandated form, I have no idea how you do it.” He turned to look over his shoulder at Harry, clearly ready to rant, but stopped short when he caught sight of what Harry held in his hands. “What’s that for?”
“It’s for you,” Harry replied, pleased with the eyeroll and the helpless smile it prompted. He stepped closer, careful with the plate in his hand, and touched the nape of Draco’s neck with his free hand. “Ask a silly question, get an obvious answer. Did you think I didn’t know? Or did you think I wouldn’t care?”
Draco paused, his eyes fluttered as Harry brushed his thumb across the soft skin and short hair behind his ear. “Neither. I’m just surprised. Pleasantly surprised.”
Harry didn’t bake the cake, he was no good at that sort of thing. But he knew it was good—Draco had a sweet-tooth a mile wide, and had been gleeful the week before when he’d found a punnet of fresh raspberries in Harry’s fridge, so Harry had ordered accordingly—the sponge was light and deep, and the whipped cream was dotted with chocolate chips and fat, juicy summer berries.
“Happy birthday,” Harry murmured, and leaned down to put the cake in front of Draco. The single sparkling candle on top of the slice of cake threw the angles of Draco’s face into golden brightness, so Harry kissed him, it was too hard not to, with him looking like that; a little bit wide-eyed, and so openly delighted. Draco’s mouth was slightly open with surprise, and his hands still hovered in the air like he wasn’t sure what to do with them, but when Harry sucked on his bottom lip and licked into his mouth, Draco reached up to cup his cheeks and made a soft sound of sheer pleasure.
@swymsuyt I couldn’t resist writing a little something for this gorgeous art—you made such a wonderful moment here it just lit my imagination up 🤍
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