Title: bills to pay
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Teen and Up
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Length: 585
Summary: It's never easy to negotiate with a Malfoy in a position of power. Which is why the Ministry assigns Auror Potter to the job.


"That is a good deal that you're offering." Draco settles back in the chair with a smug, self-satisfied smirk, the git. Harry narrows his eyes. Negotiations are not what he most prefers spending his time on the clock doing, but Draco will speak to no one else on this but him. And few enough in the DMLE would talk to him, even after his years in exile on the continent. Still, a degree of caution is warranted. He mirrors the move with a stretch, tucking a hand under his chin. "Too good to be true, almost. What do you want to get out of it?"

"Well, Potter," and why is it that Malfoy can only say his name with sneer or in drawl that makes it seem like wants to dissect him piecemeal? "I seem to recall you owe me a handshake. It's long overdue, in fact. So long it may prove ... hard, to pull off satisfactorily."

And that is a thought. A thought for a Harry not in the process of negotiating deals. His mouth opens and operates on sheer practiced autopilot - being propositioned happens far to bloody often - before he has time to reboot.

"... Neither the Auror Corps nor the Ministry as a whole permits trade in sexual favours for its members."

Draco doesn't blink. He does drag his eyes up like he can pull his robes over Harry's head by sheer willpower alone. "Hm. How ... unfortunate for you."

"Mn." Harry swallows, coughs, clears his throat, mind spinning in a hundred unhelpful directions. Deflect, deflect. Privacy charms are up, but not doing this in the middle of the Ministry. That's just asking for trouble to come along and bite. "However will I survive without wix trying to get into my robes every other day of the week?"

"A travesty of a situation that I have never had the opportunity to discover, personally."

"I'm sure. The rest of us just have to muddle along." Not that there are very many people in that us. Ron loves it, being approached on his own right. Hermione does not. Harry has years of practice dealing with the flux of his reputation, and is quietly resigned.

"By all means," is Malfoy talk for of course you do, you cretins. He's lost a lot of the wanker, but he's still not nice. Harry wouldn't know what to do with a nice Malfoy. Call the Unspeakables, maybe. Or a cursebreaker. "What say you to our muddling along this evening at the Lame Duck for drinks?"

Is it a conflict of interest? Probably? Do people (besides Hermione) care? Not really. And Harry could use a drink. "I'll shake on that."

"I couldn't ask for more."

And Harry can't help himself. Honestly, he can't. He'd swear an oath to that effect in front of the full Wizengamot. Not that he's been in front of the full sitting since he was still in school.

"Oh of course not, a Malfoy could never be seen to beg."

"Well I couldn't expect a Potter to understand a concept so rarefied as basic self respect." Hah! Same Malfoy alright. No polyjuiced imposters here. The thought is vaguely fond. "Do try to remember the cleaning charms when you're done grovelling in the dirt like a peon."

"Hah! I'll clean your charms Malfoy."

A final parting shot in the drawl he loves to hate as Draco swings his coat over quidditch-broadened shoulders just shy of the door. "By all means, Potter. This evening."