Title: Leave Your Field to Flower, 2/2
"Draco, what are you looking at?"
Draco ignored Rosemary and kept staring out of the window at the homeless man who'd apparently decided to make the portico on the street below his home. His hair was shaggy and pale, and looked matted. Draco wondered why he didn't just shear the lot off. When he'd woken up in hospital Draco had hair down to his shoulders, and the first thing he'd done when released was to cut it off.
"Are you going to talk to me today?"
Draco shook his head. He hadn't said a word since coming in, and he had nothing to say to Rosemary or to anyone else. Whatever had happened in the past didn't matter now. It probably wasn't worth remembering anyway.
"Hermione said you'd spent a little time with Harry. She implied you two might be dating. Is that true?"
Draco frowned and looked out the window again. He hadn't seen Harry for days, and he didn't care to. Harry was delusional, and it did Draco no good to spend time with someone like that. Even if he was fairly good-looking.
Rosemary waited several minutes, and then sighed. "If you aren't going to cooperate, these meetings are pointless. You don't have to come if you don't want to."
Draco snorted. He hated this 'treatment programme' they'd all been enrolled in, but he couldn't walk away, for some reason. As much as he wanted to let go of the past and move on with his life, he couldn't seem to sever his connection to it.
"Then I suppose we're done for today," Rosemary said. She stood and walked to the door. "I hope to see you at group tomorrow evening."
Draco stayed and stared out the window for a few more minutes, watching the homeless man outside. He had nothing better to do.
Harry showed up to group, but he carefully avoided making eye contact with anyone, including Draco. He didn't speak, nor did he respond when Rosemary spoke directly to him. Draco watched him the entire time, uncertain what to think. Harry was probably crazy, but he didn't seem like he was dangerous. Maybe there were even some kernels of truth in what he remembered.
Draco had spent a lot of time thinking about the fact that Harry remembered them as enemies back at school. He thought that must mean something, as did the fact that Harry had reached out to him. He didn't seem to have approached anyone else. Perhaps this was Harry's way of trying to make amends for not getting on with Draco in the past. It was the only thing that made sense.
And so Draco dredged up the courage to invite Harry to have drinks with him, Neville, Fred, and Seamus after group. He wasn't sure Harry would agree to come, but he did.
Harry was quiet as they all talked about what their days had been like in the last week, how much they all despised group (except for Neville, for whom it always seemed to be a highlight), and who they thought would win the cricket match on Saturday.
"I must not've been a sports fan before," Fred said in the middle of his third pint. "It took me ages to figure out what was happening."
"Really?" Seamus asked. "I could swear I remember watching it before. And Gran says I always loved it as a kid."
"I still don't get it," Neville said with a sigh. "I've tried."
"What, when you aren't mooning over Luna?" Fred said, poking him with an elbow. "When are you going to just ask her out?"
"She's half mad," Seamus added with a snort. "She'd probably say yes."
Neville shook his head, his cheeks flaming.
"You should, you know," Harry said. "You dated her before the… the disaster."
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"Are you serious?" Neville asked. His pink cheeks had paled considerably.
"Yes." There was resignation in Harry's voice, as if he wished he hadn't said anything but knew he couldn't stop now. "For a couple of years, actually. I'd even wager that baby is yours." He took several large sips from his pint, as if he didn't realize the impact of what he'd just said.
Neville was staring blankly into the space before him, and none of them knew what to say. He'd been miserably in love with Luna for as long as any of them could remember, even though she barely seemed to recognize reality. It was almost cruel to suggest there might have been something between them.
"He's mad, Neville," Draco said at last. "Don't believe a word he says."
Harry stared at his hands and said nothing.
Neville looked up. "But what if it's true? It would explain the way I feel about her, wouldn't it? She's completely off, and yet I can't help myself." They were all silent for several seconds, and then Neville drained his pint and stood. "I'm going to do it. I need to find her before my liquid courage dries up."
They all watched him leave, and then turned to stare at Harry.
"So you really remember?" Seamus asked.
Harry shrugged, still not looking up. "Some things. I'm not sure what's true and what isn't sometimes."
"Do you remember me?" Fred's expression was the most serious Draco could ever recall seeing.
Harry looked up at him and his face softened. "Yes, I do. You and all of your brothers and your sister and your parents. Your family was so good to me."
"I had… I had a sister? And more brothers than just Percy?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah. You did."
And then Seamus and Fred began to pelt Harry with questions, so quickly he barely had time to answer them all. He didn't talk about magic or wizards or anything beyond the ordinary -- just things that made sense, things that really seemed like they could have been real. Draco found himself wanting to ask questions too, but he didn't. He just listened, and watched.
Harry's face brightened as he talked, and he was grinning as he described Fred's twin brother and all the mischief they'd got into, his mum's cooking, his dad's collection of old junk, and a brother called Ron who'd been Harry's best friend. He told Seamus how they'd lived in the same dormitory through their school years with Neville and Ron and a boy called Dean Thomas, who'd been Seamus's best friend. He started to tell stories about their school days and playing a sport that he said was something like football on weekends. Fred and Seamus soaked it all up with wide eyes and big smiles, looking as if they believed every word of it.
And then Draco realized no one had mentioned him. Harry had talked about what great friends they'd all been and the antics they'd got up to together, but it was clear that Draco wasn't a part of it. He'd spent these last few months constructing fantasies in his head about what his life had been like and who his friends had been, but according to Harry, it hadn't been that way at all. And maybe it wasn't. For all Draco knew, he'd been some sort of pathetic loner, spending his free time doodling in the margins of his textbooks and wishing he had friends.
He began to sulk, but no one seemed to notice. They were all too busy reminiscing about things they didn't even remember.
"It's getting late," he snapped at last, and they all turned to look at him, surprised. "I have to get up early. See you next week."
They waved him off and he sulked all the way home. He'd felt lonely before, but he'd never felt like this -- like an outcast from the only family he'd ever known. If he didn't have this group, he had nothing left. There was no reason for him to stay here. But where else could he go?
He unlocked the door to his building and stepped into the dark entryway, shivering. He was halfway to the stairs when he noticed someone was standing against the wall.
"Harry," he said, feeling panic and relief at the same time. "How did you get in here?"
"How do you think?"
Draco's eyes narrowed. He was getting a bit tired of all this magic rubbish, and he'd just as soon forget the whole thing. "What are you doing here?"
Harry pushed off the wall and crossed to him. "I wanted to talk to you again, but you left."
"That's interesting, because you were doing a fine job of ignoring me back there."
"What was I supposed to say? That you and I got into fistfights at school? That we despised each other so much we could barely be in the same room without hexing each other? That you helped the very wizard who wanted to kill us all?"
"Yes, all of that," Draco snapped. "Why didn't you? Then they would have realized how insane you really are instead of hanging on your every fucking word."
"I'm sorry I've shattered your illusions about your past, but it's what happened. If you're going to help me fix it, you'll need to know all of it."
Draco folded his arms over his chest. "Even if I did believe you, why should I help you? Why not ask one of the others, one of your friends?"
"Because they don't… Look, what have you got to lose? If I'm wrong, no harm done. You'll just have had an adventure with a crazy person. But if I'm right--"
"I'll be the sidekick of an evil world-destroying wizard again? No thanks."
"You weren't his sidekick. You were just one of many who thought he was doing the right thing. And I think you did it to spite me, at least a bit."
"My little universe of evil revolved around you, did it?"
Harry sighed. "I don't know, to be honest. But you spent quite a lot of energy trying to get my attention. I always thought…" He trailed off and looked away.
"Thought what?" Draco said, and then it clicked. "Ah. I see. And did you… want my attention too?"
Harry shrugged. "At times. When I wasn't trying to convince myself I was straight."
"I wouldn't want you to think I'm just here to get into your trousers. Because it's not about that."
Draco felt a tingle in his gut, something he hadn't felt in a long time. "I suppose you could've told me we were a couple in school if that was all you wanted."
"And have you find out some day that it was all a lie and hate me even more?"
"Oh, for-- I don't hate you." Draco took a step closer to him and stared into his eyes. "You really do believe all of this, don't you?"
"Yes." Harry's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I'd like a chance to convince you."
Draco took two more steps forward, and they were standing face-to-face. "To convince me to let you into my trousers?" Harry blushed, and Draco couldn't help smirking. "You won't have to work very hard at that, I can assure you."
"Even though you think I'm insane?"
"Insane people can still fuck, can't they?"
They stared at each other in the dim light, and Draco had to bite back the urge to kiss Harry. "Can you provide a shred of proof of all this? Something besides fanciful stories to help me believe this could be true?"
"The magic isn't proof enough?"
"I need something more tangible."
Harry nodded. "There's a place I can take you. I'm not sure if it will convince you, but it's worth a shot."
"When can we go?"
"Now," Harry said, and held out his arm. When Draco stared at it blankly, he smiled. "Take my arm and hold on tight. Trust me."
"That's the problem, isn't it?" Draco muttered, but he took Harry's arm. A moment later he felt the strangest sensation, like he was being squeezed by something, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was oddly familiar, in fact, like something he'd dreamed about.
And then they were standing inside what seemed to be an empty pub. Dust had settled on the bar and on the tables, thick enough to hide their finish, and glasses of ale sat half-drunk and moldy, as if the patrons had all got up and left at once, never to return. Yet, flames flickered in lanterns hanging from the walls. Draco wondered why the person who filled them didn't bother to clean the place up a bit.
"Where are we?" he asked, moving to look out of one of the dingy windows. The street outside was dark and damp, and there were people walking by. None of them cast as much as a glance toward the pub window.
"London! That's a hundred miles!"
Draco turned to face him. "You've teleported this far to show me an old empty pub?"
"Not exactly." Harry gestured toward the back of the pub. They walked through an archway, by a staircase, and out into a small courtyard. The brick wall at the back had a large hole in it that looked to have been knocked out by force, and another street could be seen beyond it.
They climbed through the hole into what seemed like a ghost town. The little winding street was lined with shops, but all of them were empty. There was no one on the street, no one anywhere. It was as if everyone had simply forgotten this place existed, all at once. Draco swallowed.
"This is called Diagon Alley," Harry said, gesturing down the cobblestone street. This was the commercial center of our world, where witches and wizards for hundreds of miles would come to do their shopping."
It was unlike anything Draco had ever seen, and yet… Perhaps he'd dreamed about it. "And now?"
Harry sighed. "Now it remains. There are dozens of places like this around Britain, all of them empty. Everyone's forgotten."
"Everyone? There are more Survivors?"
Harry nodded. "Not everyone was at Hogwarts that day. But all at the same moment, witches and wizards everywhere simply… forgot."
"What happened to them?"
"I don't know. Some of them might be in hospital, others might be wandering about the streets. I've found news reports about a strange spike in amnesia cases eight months ago, all over the country."
Draco thought about the homeless man outside of Rosemary's window. "How many Survivors were there?"
"Thousands," Harry replied. "More than I'll ever be able to find."
They continued down the street, stopping in front of every shop. Harry explained what one could buy there while Draco pressed his nose against the window tried to take it all in. There were bookshops, shops that carried the strangest clothing he'd ever seen, shops full of empty animal cages, and shops with unidentifiable substances displayed in the windows. There was a shop devoted entirely to broomsticks, and Draco found it difficult to pull himself away from the sight.
"I miss flying," Harry said, staring wistfully at the window display.
"What, on one of those?" Draco asked, incredulous.
Harry laughed. "You loved it too. You were damn competitive."
They kept walking, and then Harry stopped in front of one that looked a bit ominous. The weathered sign above the door declared it Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.
"We're going in this one," Harry said, and turned the doorknob. The door opened with a creak, and they walked into a shop that seemed to be full of shelves lined with boxes, stretching all the way to the ceiling.
Harry led Draco back through the shelves and plucked a box from one. He handed it to Draco with a smile. "Go on."
"It's not going to bite me, is it?" Draco asked, prying the lid off warily. Inside lay a wooden stick about a foot long, polished smooth.
"It's a wand," Harry whispered, looking over Draco's shoulder. "We all had them. I don't know what yours was made from, but I'll wager we can find you a good replacement."
Draco reached into the box and pulled out the wand. It felt good in his fingers, soothing and solid. "Not this one," he said, putting it back. "I don't like the color."
Harry snorted, but pulled down another box. "Try this one, then."
They went through so many boxes that Draco lost count, but Harry didn't seem to mind. Draco didn't know why he was being so picky -- after all, they were just polished bits of wood. But each time he picked up a wand, he had the strangest feeling that it wasn't quite right.
After what could have been an hour, he opened a box and smiled. The wand inside appealed to him instantly, and it slid into his hand as if made for it. He held it up and waved it in the air, and a shower of green sparks erupted from the tip, spilling onto the floor around them.
"Very good," Harry said, looking relieved. "That's the one."
Draco couldn't take his eyes off it. "How do I use it?"
"I was hoping you might remember something," Harry said.
Draco wrenched his gaze away from the wand. "I'm going to have to start all over, aren't I? Learn it all again?"
Harry smiled. "So you believe me, do you?"
Draco wasn't sure when it had happened exactly, but he did. It all seemed to make sense somehow. Or perhaps he was finally going mad. In either case, he found he didn't mind. "It sure as hell beats my current reality, so why not?"
"Indeed. What else would you like to see, then?"
"Don't we need to find a wand for you?"
Harry reached under his shirt and pulled another wand out. "I came here as soon as they released me from hospital. I'd started to wonder if I really was crazy, but then I came back here and found it all empty. That was when I first realized I was the only one left. But I got another wand, and I could still do magic, so I clung to the hope that I could find someone else, and show them all of this. Help them learn it all again."
Draco looked back at his wand, overwhelmed. There was a whole world Draco had once been a part of, had grown up in, and it was gone. All of the empty shops, the dusty counters and decay, all had been bustling with people less than a year ago. And Harry was the only one left who remembered what it had been like.
"Thank you for showing me this."
Harry smiled. "I'll clean up a bit." He waved his wand and all of the discarded wands folded back into their boxes, and each box flew back to its previous position on the shelves.
"Amazing," Draco said, shaking his head. "But somehow… not."
Harry laughed. "So it'll take a bit more to impress you now, will it?"
"Well, all I can do is provide some pathetically dim light," Draco said, waving his wand again to make the sparks.
"It's a good start," Harry said, and made some sparks of his own, red and gold. They kept shooting sparks for several minutes, and Draco found himself grinning for what felt like the first time in months. He showered Harry with sparks, and Harry fired back, until they collapsed against the countertop in laughter.
They stared at each other, neither quite sure what to say. Harry reached up to brush his shaggy hair out of his eyes, and Draco caught a glimpse of a mark on his forehead, a scar he hadn't noticed before.
"What?" Harry asked as Draco pushed off the counter and stood before him, brushing his hair back to look again. "Oh, my scar -- do you remember it?"
"I don't know," Draco replied. And he didn't know, but it stirred something in his mind, almost like a dream. He let go of Harry's hair and started to step back, but Harry caught his hand. His eyes were dark and intense, and Draco froze.
Was this a stupid idea? Probably -- but it had been a long time since he'd been touched by anyone who wasn't a doctor. In fact, he didn't even know if he'd ever had sex before. He must have done -- he was at least twenty years old, according to the doctors. But maybe he wouldn't remember what to do, and Harry would think him a complete idiot. And of course, he was going to work closely with Harry now, and this would complicate things significantly. After everything he'd been through, and everything he'd learned in the last week, would this be a mistake?
Why the hell was he so nervous? He never second-guessed himself like this.
"I can practically see the wheels spinning," Harry whispered, and tugged him closer. "Are you worried ab--"
And then Draco made up his mind: he leaned forward to kiss Harry, cutting him off. Harry made a sound of surprise, and Draco was surprised to find him trembling. But his lips were soft and they parted under Draco's with no resistance.
This was definitely familiar -- he must have done a lot of kissing in the past, because he seemed to be quite good at it. Harry was not as good a kisser, but was apparently happy to let Draco take charge, which Draco liked. Draco did a thing with his tongue that he hadn't even known he knew how to do, and Harry made a small noise of pleasure that Draco felt start a chain reaction through his insides.
Oh, yes. What had he been worried about?
He pulled Harry closer with a hand around the back of his neck, and he felt Harry's hands touch his sides awkwardly, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.
"Is this okay?" Draco whispered against his lips.
Harry's eyes were closed, and he was still trembling. "Yes. I mean… if it's okay with you."
Draco pressed his growing erection against Harry's hip and traced the curve of his lower lip with his tongue. "What do you think?"
"Right," Harry said, swallowing. "Okay."
Draco kissed him again and pressed him back against the counter. His hands found their way inside Harry's shirt to touch warm skin, and Harry jumped.
"Your hands are cold."
Draco pressed his palms flat on Harry's chest and smirked. "Oh. Sorry."
Harry laughed and tried to wiggle away, and ended up sitting on the dusty countertop, exactly where Draco wanted him. He closed his eyes when Draco pushed his shirt up and began planting kisses on his stomach, and twined his fingers in Draco's hair when his mouth moved lower.
Ten minutes ago, Draco couldn't have said if he'd ever given a blow job before, but now he was sure that he was bloody brilliant at sucking cock. He managed to unfasten Harry's jeans with one hand and tugged them down enough to free his erection. The sight of it made his mouth water.
Oh yes -- this was something he must have loved to do. He had Harry's cock in his mouth a moment later, so fast that it seemed it caught Harry by surprise. Harry gasped above him and his cock got even harder, something that sent a little tingle straight to Draco's balls.
It was as if he had some strange instinct for cocksucking, like he knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Harry was leaning back and hanging on to the edge of the counter now, gasping in time to the strokes of Draco's tongue, his knees splayed and his bare arse smearing the dust on the counter. Draco sucked his cock in as far as he could, and then even farther than he'd thought possible, and Harry howled and arched his hips up, and came.
For a split second, Draco worried he might choke -- but he pulled back without even thinking about it, and sucked the head hard while Harry finished coming. He'd even swallowed before he quite knew what had happened. Damn -- he was good at this.
"Fuck," Harry panted as Draco stood and wiped his mouth.
Draco grinned. "Want to?"
Harry's cheeks got even pinker. "I… uh…"
"I was joking," Draco said, though he wasn't. Clearly he'd have to give Harry some time to think about that one.
Harry slid off the counter and fastened his jeans, and without saying another word pulled Draco close and cupped his erection through his trousers.
"Yeah, that'll do," Draco said, his voice rising comically. "Oh god."
Harry's hand wormed its way into his trousers and stroked him fast and hard, and it was so intense that Draco could barely stay on his feet. Harry kissed him, and it was less than a minute before Draco came, moaning into Harry's mouth and collapsing against him.
So he'd have to work on lasting a bit longer. Of course, it had been a while since he'd had sex with someone other than himself.
Harry pulled his sticky hand out, and then picked up his wand and waved it. There was a strange tingle on Draco's nether-regions, and he grabbed his dick in alarm.
"Sorry," Harry said, holding his hands up. "Cleaning spell. I should have warned you. I… funny, I forgot for a moment that you don't remember."
"Right," Draco said, not quite ready to let go. "Wait, don't remember? Have we done this before?"
Harry stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Once. But I think we both thought it was a mistake at the time. We never talked about it, but…" He shrugged.
"Why didn't you say anything before?"
"What was I to say? It was a one-off thing, a couple of years ago."
Draco smirked. "So is that why you came to me first, then?"
"No," Harry retorted, but his cheeks were pink. "Well, maybe it had something to do with it. I mean, if you didn't remember how much you hated me, I thought you might… like me."
Draco's smirk faded into a smile. "I do like you. Even when I thought you were insane, I thought you were hot."
They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of them speaking.
"So what happens now?" Draco asked at last.
Harry shrugged. "Well, if you want to come back to mine, it's not far."
"No, I mean with all this." Draco picked up his new magic wand and waved it toward a spindly chair in the corner, which promptly jumped a foot into the air. It landed with a loud clatter and one of its wooden clawed feet broke off. "Shit."
"Teach you some simple spells, I think," Harry said, eying the chair somewhat warily. "We used to buy all of our school books at a shop down the street. I suppose you can start with the grade one spells, and we'll go from there. Charms, potions, transfiguration, defensive spells… We'll skip the other stuff for now. Not very useful anyway."
"Grade one," Draco repeated. He would be starting all over, re-learning things he'd probably learned as a small child, the most basic of spells. Things he'd taken years to learn, the sum knowledge of most of his life.
The enormity of it hit him in the gut, and he felt his knees start to shake. He dropped his wand, and sank to the floor, blinking back hot tears that had come from nowhere.
He'd had a life before. He'd had parents who loved him, and he'd known things, and he'd probably been happy, something he hadn't been since he'd woken up in hospital eight months ago, unable even to remember his own name.
And he'd helped the man who did it to him. He'd willingly helped to ruin his own life, and the lives of all the Survivors. He knew himself well enough to know he was generally a selfish prick -- so why had he gone along with it? What had he got out of it?
"I'll help you," Harry said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Why?" Draco replied, unable to look up at him. "I don't deserve it."
"You do. We all do."
Harry's hand appeared in front of Draco's face, extended. Draco stared at it for a moment before taking it, allowing Harry to pull him to his feet.
"We'll start tomorrow, whenever you can get off work."
Draco looked at him. "Can we start now?"
"I don't think I want to be alone just yet. If you don't mind."
Harry smiled and squeezed his hand. "Come with me."
Draco stretched and rolled over, and only opened his eyes when he realized the bed was empty. He squinted his eyes open and looked around the room. "Harry?"
"Making breakfast," was the reply.
Draco pushed himself to his feet and scratched his bare stomach, and then reached for the wand on the bedside table. A few quick accios later, his boxers and a t-shirt were in his hands, and he dressed.
He stumbled into the kitchen to find Harry sitting on the sofa with his feet propped up on a table, reading the Times. "I never thought I'd say it, but I really miss the Daily Prophet," he said, shaking his head.
The concept of a magical newspaper was still a bit strange to Draco, but they'd found a weathered copy in a rubbish bin the week before. Draco hadn't put it down for six hours, and had read every word in it. "I thought you were cooking breakfast."
Without taking his eyes off the paper, Harry pointed his wand over his shoulder, and slices of bread popped out of the toaster and flew to a waiting empty plate on the table. A teapot began to steam, and butter and jam rattled their way out of the refrigerator to come to a skidding stop next to the toast.
Draco grinned. "You've got to show me how to do that."
"I will," Harry said, folding the paper and setting it aside. "You've made a lot of progress in only two weeks. Better than I even expected."
"I have a feeling you always underestimated me."
"I didn't, you know."
They settled at the table to eat, and Draco wished he didn't have to go to the book shop this morning. But they'd agreed the easiest way to bring the others in was to keep up the façade for now, and so they kept going to their menial jobs and to group therapy, even while they were squatting in this flat above a shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which Harry said Fred and his brother had owned. They spent their evenings studying magic and exploring Diagon Alley, and Draco had soaked up as much as he could, as fast as he could.
But somehow, it wasn't enough.
"I think we should approach Hermione soon," Draco said through a mouthful of toast. "She's skeptical, but she's a clever one. She'll learn quickly, and she'll be able to help teach the others when we bring them in."
"Is that a criticism of my teaching skills?"
"Oh, please. We need you to start finding those other Survivors just wandering around out there doing Merlin knows what, and to--"
"I know, I know" Harry said with a grin. "It'll be nice to have someone to talk you other than you, anyway."
"Well, talking isn't what we do best, is it?"
Harry flicked his wand and a piece of toast hurtled toward Draco's head.
"Not fair!" he spat, throwing his hands up to knock it away. "I can't do that yet."
"It motivates you to learn, doesn't it?"
"You really are a crap teacher. Come on, let me talk to Hermione today. I'll tell her we've invited her and Percy to dinner, and you can aprate them here."
Harry took a deep breath and released it, and then looked up. "Are you sure you're ready to bring others in?"
Draco picked at his toast. "No. Part of me wants to hide away here and never go back out there again. But it's going to take decades to rebuild it all. We probably won't live long enough to see it happen, but the sooner we get started, the more of my old life I'll get back. I need that. I need to know where I came from and who I was, even if I won't like it."
Harry was quiet for a moment. "We won't get it back the way it was. I'm not even sure I want that." He looked up. "But this is a good start. It's more than I'd hoped for, actually."
Draco smiled. "Me too."
They stared at each other for a moment, and Draco felt a shiver of emotion, something he'd never felt before. He looked down into his tea cup.
"How about a quick spell lesson before you go to work?" Harry asked, twirling his wand between his fingers.
Draco looked up again, one eyebrow raised. "How about a quick shag?" Predictably, Harry blushed, and Draco grinned. He slid his chair away from the table and beckoned Harry to come closer.
Harry grinned back and stood. "You're insatiable."
"I don't hear you complaining."
Harry slid into his lap and kissed him. "Definitely not."
Draco let Harry kiss him, felt the weight of his body pressing down on him, and promptly forgot about work.
Finally, happily, he had something better to do.