Author's Note: Thank you to the moderators of the Drarry Strugglefest for putting it all together, and thanks to Gallifreyisburning for the awesome prompt! I had no intention of doing a fest but was just perusing the prompts when this one jumped out at me and begged to be written. I hope it's as much fun to read as it was to write.

Written for the Drarry Strugglefest 2020 on AO3

Rating: T (with strong language)

Category: M/M

Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, Teddy Lupin, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley

Additional tags: EWE, post-war, fluff, Cute Teddy Lupin, adulting, cooking lessons, Flirting, UST, frottage, swearing, human disaster Harry Potter, firm but patient Draco Malfoy, extensive use of the word Fuck, Drarry Strugglefest 2020

Word count: 10,081

Summary: Harry's life's a mess, his flat is a disaster, and he can't make it to an appointment on time to save his life. Draco's job is to help people get organised. Add in some cooking lessons, cute kiddo-time, and heart-to-heart conversations, mix it up and see what happens.

Living Arrangements

by Janieohio

Prologue

"Fuck!" Harry sat up straight, suddenly awake as the late morning light poured in through his bedroom window. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He glanced at the clock. 10.35 am.

"Double-ty fuck. She's going to kill me. Fuck!"

Harry jumped out of bed and did a quick sniff of his armpits, then absently nodded and ran to the bureau to pull out some clean pants. "Fuck." His drawer was empty. No boxers, no pants of any kind really, not even his least favourite pair of Y-fronts that he kept around as his personal alert that he was low. Nothing.

He glanced at his empty laundry basket and noticed the pile of clothes on the floor around it, yesterday's pants lying on top. Perfect. He grabbed them, gave them a sniff, then shrugged and pulled them on.

Stumbling over his dirty clothes scattered across the floor, he made it to his closet. It was large enough to walk into entirely, but all he saw were clothes he hated or that were much too warm for an early August day. He was pretty sure his blue t-shirt was in there somewhere, but rummaging through the clothes only proceeded to knock things off their hanger, landing on top of the pile of dirty clothes lying about the floor. He finally grabbed an old beat-up Cannons shirt with holes in the arms and frayed edges, then pulled it over his head.

He picked up his jeans from the previous day and tugged them on, pushed his trainers on with no socks, then glanced at the mirror, running a hand through his hair. "Whatever," he muttered, then looked at the clock again. 10.40. He was forty minutes late.

Running through the house to the Floo, Harry grabbed a fistful of powder and threw it in the fire, calling out his destination hastily. He took a deep breath, preparing for the flaying he was about to receive, and stepped into the flames.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry cringed and looked up to see Andromeda Tonks looking angrier than he'd ever seen her, her eyes narrowed, her nose flaring, and her arms akimbo. Trying not to think about how much she looked like a terrifying cross between her dead sister and Hermione at that moment, he glanced at the screaming child behind her.

"Where have you been? You know Teddy needs to be down for his morning nap by 10.30, and my appointment is scheduled in fifteen minutes. I'm going to be late, and I am not pleased."

"I know, Andi, I'm so sorry. I overslept. Go to your appointment; I'll take Teddy now. And don't worry about when you have to pick him up. I'll keep him as long as you need."

Andi glanced between Harry and Teddy, and her voice calmed but remained stern. "Harry, this is the third time in a row."

"I—"

"Don't interrupt me, young man. You need to get yourself together. Molly says you completely forget to come over there when you've promised, Ron says you missed your Aurors' exam and have to wait three months for the next one, and you look like you haven't showered in days. This is no example to set for my grandson."

Harry nodded, avoiding her eyes.

Andromeda was softer when she continued. "Teddy's bag is by the Floo. He ate about an hour ago, so he should be good until after his nap." She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. "I know this is hard, Harry. I know you didn't have the chance to learn the simple things when you were younger, but it's time."

He looked up and saw the understanding in her gaze, and tried to force a smile.

She reached into her bag and handed him a business card. "I saw this a few days ago and picked it up for you. I know the owner, and she's very well respected at what she does. Try it. If not for yourself, then for me and Teddy."

Unable to make out the words on the card through the tears burning his eyes, Harry mumbled a sound of agreement and a quick word of thanks as she turned to leave.

He looked to his godson who had settled down to play with his stuffed toys, then glanced back at the card. He blinked a few times, then focused.

Living Arrangements

Arrange your life so it can work for you.
Consultations by Appointment

Owl or Floo-call today.

Harry looked up at his godson. "Well, Teddy? It sounds like I need someone to help me arrange my life." He sighed. "Fuck."

"Fuck!" Teddy parroted happily.

Harry flopped back onto the sofa with a sigh. Perfect.

Arranging

Draco looked down at the binder under his arm containing the information on his latest assignment, then back to the door of the flat in front of him. He could do this; he was a professional. He'd been doing this job for more than two years and had never failed any of his clients.

He wouldn't start now, even if it was Harry Bloody Potter.

When Gigi—the owner of Living Arrangements, and therefore his boss—had given him this assignment, he'd almost pushed it back to her and demanded she reassign it. He'd met Potter periodically in the three years since the war, and the animosity between them seemed to have diminished, but he wasn't sure he wanted to take the chance. This was his career, and he didn't want to blow it because Potter was so...so Potter-ish. But, well, he was curious. Fascinated, really. Why would the bloody Boy Who Lived need help arranging his life? Was he really so desperate?

There'd been rumours, of course, that he'd become a bit of a recluse and had recently quit Auror training, but there were always rumours, and Draco knew better than to believe everything he'd read. Just like he knew the story about Potter and his friends—the one that said Potter had been in a love triangle with the Weasel and Granger that had gone south, causing them to move out and leave him alone—was completely ridiculous.

He gave his shoulders a little shrug, glanced at his watch and noticed that it was finally 10 am exactly, and rang the buzzer. And waited.

Feeling annoyed, but unsurprised, at the man's natural rudeness, he rang it again. Somewhere inside the ridiculously Muggle flat in this ridiculously Muggle building, he heard swearing and footsteps approaching. Unable to resist, he rang the buzzer again and chuckled quietly—no reason he couldn't enjoy himself.

"I'm here. Sorry. Sorry. Come in," the muffled voice came from the other side of the door as it unlatched and swung open slightly.

Rude, thought Draco. Leave it to Potter to not even greet someone properly.

The door swung open, and Draco stepped inside, then froze.

Potter stood in front of him, bare-chested, in a pair of dark green Muggle joggers hanging low on his waist. As Draco stared, he finished pulling a threadbare t-shirt down over his torso—his chiselled, well-defined torso that had Draco unable to look away.

Potter cleared his throat, and his voice was rough. "Malfoy!" he exclaimed, sounding as surprised as Draco was aroused. "I'm sorry; I thought you were someone from an agency I hired that was coming out today."

Pull yourself together, man! he scolded himself. He straightened his shoulders and gave Potter a polite nod. "Mr Potter, I'm with Living Arrangements, and I'm here for your consultation."

Potter's jaw dropped slightly, and Malfoy urged himself to quickly adjust to the situation. He let his gaze fall on the space around him, passing over the piles of takeout containers, stacks of books, and general debris of papers, clothes, and just stuff that seemed to overwhelm the room. He carefully concealed his disgust—he was a professional, after all—and handed Harry his business card.

"Shall we sit?"

Potter seemed to gather himself and cleared his throat. "Sorry. Yeah, uh, sure." He took the card from Draco and turned around. "Come on, we'll go into the kitchen, and I'll put on some tea."

Draco wasn't sure he was willing to consume anything from this rubbish-heap of a flat, but he politely followed the other man through the disastrous living area and into a different world.

The kitchen appeared to belong to someone else entirely. Every surface was clean, the cooker was immaculate and shining, and there was no clutter to be found. A tidy wooden table with four chairs stood in the centre of the room, with a child's highchair tucked under one end. The pale yellow walls and light oak cabinets gave the room a cheerful feel, and Draco immediately relaxed.

Potter gestured to a chair and Draco sat down, watching the other man work at filling a tea kettle and measuring out tea. Potter appeared competent and at ease in his surroundings, a drastic contrast to the man who had opened the door to him only minutes earlier. As Draco puzzled over the disparate personas, he took the time to admire the man's broad shoulders, his dark, usually messy hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail on the back of his head, and his round arse perfectly outlined by the joggers.

Potter turned, and Draco jerked his gaze away to the binder he'd placed on the table, beginning to take out the Muggle notepad and Biro that he never left behind these days. "So, Mr Potter—"

"Harry," Potter interrupted, sounding amused as he set the tea tray out on the table and handed Draco a cup. "Honestly, Mr Malfoy, I know you're just trying to be professional, but we've known each other since we were eleven. If we're going to be working together, I'd prefer you call me Harry."

Draco looked up from his notepad and met Potter's green eyes, their intensity almost tangible. "Okay, Harry. I suppose you're right." Draco paused and let out a little breath. "In that case, please call me Draco."

The smile that stretched across the man's face made his green eyes glow even brighter, and Draco was intrigued to have caused such a reaction from just a simple statement. He felt a slight embarrassment at that smile making him want to match it. Instead, he cleared his throat and continued.

"As I was saying, Harry, this consultation is for me to get a complete understanding of your needs so that I can put together a tailored plan to help you. Some of the questions I have might be personal, but, well…"

Harry nodded. "But this is my personal life we're trying to organise. I get it." He took a drink of his tea and considered. "I can't imagine I'll be eager to talk about everything—I never have been—but I'll do my best."

Draco fixed himself a cup of tea and took a small sip, pleasantly surprised. "That's a lovely tea."

Harry smiled. "Thank you. It's one of Luna's blends. So where should we start?"

Draco looked around the room and pointed to the tea. "Let's start here, in the kitchen. I can't help but notice that it's clearly different for you than the rest of your flat. Why is that?"

Harry shrugged. "I like a clean kitchen. It's hard to cook when it's dirty, and, I suppose, it's a habit to keep it this way."

Draco nodded, jotting down the response. "And the rest of the flat isn't?"

"No, I guess not. When Hermione and Ron lived here, they primarily took care of the living room and bathroom, and the kitchen was my territory. Neither of them cooks much, so it made sense."

"They moved out six months ago, is that right?"

"In March, so five months ago."

"And that's when that happened?" Draco gestured out to the living area.

"Not immediately, but yeah." Harry cocked his head and looked irritated. "You know that this isn't due to some depression over their moving out, right? I'm happy for them, and no matter what Witch Weekly claims, there was no love triangle."

Draco scoffed and drawled, "Ob-viously."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You do that Snape impression quite well."

"Thanks," Draco acknowledged with a little smirk. "It always was a hit. So, clearly you need help keeping up with your flat and basic chores, but you could just hire a service to clean. Why Living Arrangements?"

"It's not just the flat. I'm having trouble with family and friends; most of it comes back to time management and just, well, taking care of what needs taking care of." Harry paused and seemed to consider his next statement. "I don't want someone to manage me. I want to know how to manage myself." He dropped his head in his hand. "Merlin, this is really embarrassing."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the other man, careful to keep his voice neutral. "I'm not here to judge you."

Harry looked a little surprised, then gave a little nod. "No, I reckon not, but I'm judging myself."

Draco jotted that down on the notepad and underlined it. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed important.

"Describe your typical day for me, please."

As Draco listened, he noticed a few key points. Potter was always reacting, and he very rarely planned ahead. He had no idea at any given time what the next day had in store, and he gave it little thought. He seemed to live in the moment only, which of course, was a recipe for disaster. How could someone live like that?

People did, clearly, but the very idea made Draco want to shudder.

Potter also seemed to be playing catch-up a good deal of the time. Draco imagined that would be overwhelming. What he needed to get the man started along the right path was to give him a clean slate; a way to start fresh.

They'd finished the entire pot of tea by the time they were finished, and Draco had a plan outlined that he'd write up more formally when he got home and submit to Gigi. For now, he looked at Potter and again was taken aback by the deep-green intensity that met his gaze.

"One month, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "So long?"

"To form new habits may take longer, actually, but one month to get you to a place you can practice the new skills to form them into new habits. I'll have you functioning better in a shorter period of time, of course, but one month of close collaboration will keep you there. Are you willing to commit to that?"

Harry looked sceptical, then gave a loud sigh. "Yeah. For Teddy, yeah." He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you so different?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "I've grown up. I can't promise I won't occasionally take a dig at you out of habit, but I know how to be professional and do what needs to be done." He jerked his chin up. "Why are you so different?"

Harry gave a sad smile. "I'm not. I'm just not angry anymore."

Draco matched Harry's look. "Yeah, and there's that." He stood up and offered his hand. "One month, Harry, and we'll get your life back on track."

Harry accepted the offer and put his hand in Draco's. "Merlin, I hope so."

Draco exited the Floo into Harry's flat three days later and looked around. It had taken some convincing, but Draco had managed to get access to the place without Harry around for an entire day. He had to promise not to touch the kitchen, but since that wasn't a place of concern anyway—and he still had to figure out why the disparity there—he was fine with that.

Eight hours to get the flat cleaned and organised, and to learn what he could of Harry without having to drag it out of the man directly. You learned a lot about someone by going through their stuff, which is why he had to show Harry the secrecy clause in the contract in order to get the sceptical man to agree to it.

"Jenkins," he called, and the agency's house-elf popped into the room, his long ears flopping slightly. The elf looked around, almost vibrating with eagerness to begin working. "Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes, Mr Malfoy. The usual?"

Draco gave a little nod. "Wait to start each room until I've gone through it and taken notes. In the meantime, go ahead and start in the bathroom. I'll be done in here shortly."

The little elf hurried away to clean the bathroom, and Draco began to look around. Harry had cleaned up a little, throwing away the take-out boxes and general trash, but the room was still a disorderly wreck. Draco took out his notebook and began to jot down notes about additional furniture he could bring in, items that could probably be binned, and his general thoughts about Harry's likely habits.

"Little care for his clothing," Draco noted, seeing clothes strewn around the living space, down the hallway, and presumably in his bedroom. He moved them out of his way with his feet and walked to a cupboard in the corner of the room, prepared for disaster to pour out as he opened it.

He was not prepared, however, to find it nearly empty. It was about two meters deep, about a meter wide, and held only a cushion and blanket on the floor, a shelf with a book near the back. "What the fuck?" he asked out loud. He knew the man didn't have a house-elf; he'd asked. Draco stood staring for several minutes, unable to make sense of it, and finally decided it must have been leftover from Harry's godson, Draco's own cousin, Teddy, playing at the flat. Still…

Shaking it off, Draco marked it down as space that could be used for storage, then moved down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

He stopped at the first door, the bathroom, and let Jenkins know he was finished in the living room, then moved across the hall to the first bedroom. Clearly a guest bedroom, the room was doing double-duty as a room for Teddy, with rails set up along the edges of the bed. More importantly, the room was clean and well-maintained. Yes, it could use some help to organise the toys and children's books, but it was orderly and cared for. Interesting.

Finishing by taking a quick sketch of the closet—room for more shelves there for additional storage—Draco continued to Harry's bedroom and stopped with a sigh. Right.

The room was in much the same condition as the living area had been, only with more clutter. Clothes were strewn everywhere—on the bed, on a set of chairs arranged by the window, on the dresser. Draco moved to the walk-in closet and simply stared at the clothing on the floor there as well, and at the nearly empty laundry hamper next to it all.

Heaving a huge sigh, he set to work.

Harry finished his afternoon tea and smiled at his best friends. "Thanks again for letting me stay here all day. I'm terrified to see what's been going on in my flat for the past—" he glanced at the clock "—six and a half hours."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It can't be much worse than it was, no matter what he does. I'm proud of you, Harry, putting your past with Draco behind you. It's very mature."

Harry shrugged. "You know we've bumped into each other a few times since the war. I mean, when Blaise and Ginny were dating we even had drinks as a group a few times. I can't say I've ever talked with him much, but I think the years of animosity have passed. As long as he can remain professional, I can remain friendly. It'll be fine."

Ron scoffed. "Professional and friendly. You and Malfoy. Right. I still can't believe you left him alone there all day. You'll go home and he'll have transfigured all your furniture into snakes and your walls will be green."

Harry laughed. "As long as it's clean and organised, I don't care. I just hope this works. I can't keep on like I am."

"Harry," Hermione said seriously, taking his hand, "are you okay? Really?"

Harry squeezed her hand. "I'm okay. I just need to figure out all this adult-ing. This is going to be a good thing."

She nodded and checked her watch. "It's nearly five now, so you'd best be back. Go see what he's done."

"Thanks," Harry said and stood. "Well, here goes nothing."

He walked to the fireplace and threw in some Floo powder, then entered the green flames. Stepping out the other side, he stood in shock.

The room was immaculate, which he somewhat expected, but it was also slightly rearranged. There was a cabinet of deep drawers along the sidewall that hadn't been there previously, two new large bookshelves that held his books, pictures, and some Quidditch memorabilia that he'd had stuffed in a box in the corner. Some of the items he'd forgotten he had, as he hadn't seen them since he'd moved out of Grimmauld Place shortly after the war.

The sofa, chair, and tables were angled differently, and Harry had to admit that it made the room seem to flow better. He no longer had to walk around them to move from the fireplace to the kitchen and hallway, but they were still central to the room. He really liked it.

"Uh, Draco?" Harry called out. "Are you still here?"

Draco strode out from the bedroom, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted. "Of course, I'm still here. Potter, this place was a disaster."

Harry gave him a guilty shrug. "Yeah."

"All right. I'm not going to go through everything with the flat tonight, but it was just the first step. Tomorrow, I'll be back, I'll explain what changes I made and why, and then we'll start on your schedule."

"Schedule? What schedule?"

"Exactly. Potter—" Draco let out a little sigh that made Harry flush, embarrassed. "Harry," he said, more quietly this time, "when's the last time you saw a Healer? Did maintenance on your broom? Cleaned your bathtub?"

Harry simply stared at him. How was he supposed to know that?

"Exactly. A schedule, Harry. I have a couple of ideas, and I know you probably are going to fight against them like the stubborn Gryffindor you are, but you're going to try them because it's my job and because you agreed. Now, I'll be back at 10 am tomorrow. You'll be up and ready by that time because I've put an alarm clock next to your bed set for 9 am. That should give you plenty of time to be ready for me."

Harry felt his irritation rise at being treated like a child. "I can set my own damned alarm, Malfoy."

Draco smirked. "Can you? Did you even know where your alarm clock was?"

Harry stopped to think about it. "Uh, no."

"In a box full of items from what I assume was your last residence. How long have you lived here now?"

"Two and a half years."

"10 am tomorrow, Potter. Be awake and functional, please. We have much to discuss."

Harry watched Malfoy brush past him and out the door, then turned to look at his flat. He hardly recognised it. He wanted to scream and rant, but the calm atmosphere around him was soothing, which frankly, pissed him off.

"Fuck it," he muttered and sat back on the sofa, turning on the telly instead.

Draco pushed the door buzzer to Harry's flat and experienced an odd sensation of déjà vu. He glanced at his watch. 10.02 am, and no answer. He waited a minute, then hit the buzzer again, and began to knock.

"Potter?" he raised his voice, which, of course, also raised his annoyance level at his need to behave like an uncultured heathen.

Harry stumbled as he opened the door, a towel wrapped around his waist and hair dripping. "I thought you said ten."

Draco scowled. "I did. It's ten. Eight minutes past ten, to be exact"

Harry scrunched up his face as he stepped back, ushering Draco inside. "Huh," he muttered, sounding as though he were attempting to solve a puzzle. "How did that happen?"

"Go get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen. We have some planning to do."

Harry nodded and returned down the hallway as Draco stepped into the kitchen, sitting in what he was beginning to consider 'his seat.'

"Malfoy!"

Draco smiled to himself. He probably shouldn't take pleasure in the sound of a disgruntled Harry, but years of conditioning couldn't be ignored that easily.

"Where the fuck are all my joggers?" Harry asked from the doorway, though Draco refused to turn and give him his attention.

"Anything with holes in it got binned, Harry, except for one t-shirt and one pair of joggers that you should keep only for work that will ruin your clothes. And since I know you have the money to buy new ones, that will go on our list of things to do."

Harry stomped away and Draco smirked, adding the shopping trip to his notepad. He continued writing as Harry entered the kitchen several minutes later. "Now, was that so hard—"

Draco cut off as he looked up to see Harry standing in only a t-shirt and boxers, holding a pair of jeans. His muscular thighs drew the eyes, covered in dark hair that thickened as it grew closer to the bottom of the man's fitted black pants. Unable to keep his eyes from continuing further upward, his gaze traced the lines of the man's evidently sizable cock before there was a distinct throat-clearing. Draco's eyes shot up and met Harry's, watching him in some amusement.

"What were the plans for today, then, Draco? Are jeans appropriate for wherever it is you plan to drag me?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Right. Jeans. Yes, that should be fine. We're not going anywhere today."

Harry nodded and pulled them over his legs, and Draco looked back to his list. "So after our discussions this week, I've made a chart of all the things you need to work on." He picked out the sheet of parchment he'd prepared and enlarged it, then took it to the wall and used a charm to stick it in place. He stepped back and glanced at Harry, waiting on a reaction.

"What the hell is…" Harry stepped closer to read the list of items down the left, then glanced across the top to the columns that Draco had drawn. "Wait a minute. Is this a… a… Is this a fucking sticker chart?"

Draco grinned, proud of his creation, then reached out to tap the first row in the first column with his wand. The square created by the intersection turned red and displayed a sad face. Draco snickered. "First day, be ready on time for your first appointment. Sadly, a failure, but that just means there's no room to go but up, right?" Draco gave Harry his most charming smile, but he was met with a scowl. "I'm completely unappreciated," he muttered.

"On time for first appointment, eat breakfast, eat lunch, eat dinner, visit Weasleys, visit Teddy, tidy living room, tidy bathroom, tidy bedroom, laundry, pick up after yourself. Seriously?"

Draco fought the desire to roll his eyes. "Yes, seriously. Look, you clearly need reminders. Each of these items is charmed to light up gold when you complete them successfully, red when you don't, and bright pink when you need a reminder. As you can see, not everything is required every day. For example, what day do you usually visit your godson and Andi?"

Harry looked over sharply. "You call her Andi?"

This time the eye roll was unavoidable. "She is my aunt."

Harry huffed. "Fine. When I'm working, I try to see him every Sunday afternoon, and when Andromeda needs help."

Draco nodded and tapped the chart, outlining the row for Sunday afternoon. "Perfect. This is actually tied with your alarm clock, has an alarm of its own, and we'll connect it to your watch, as well, when we get you one today."

"I have one."

"You don't wear it, so clearly it doesn't work."

"It's special. It was a gift when I turned seventeen. I don't want to ruin it."

Draco nodded. "That's traditional, yes. We'll get you one that's not special, and then we'll tie it to the chart. The purpose of the chart is to let you see patterns, Harry, and adjust your behaviours. For the next month, I'll help you with that, but eventually, you'll be able to do it yourself."

Harry scowled but nodded. "So we're gathering data."

"Exactly," Draco said, making sure Harry could hear the approval in his voice. "And, well, as an added incentive, once you get two-thirds of your squares gold for the week, I'll let you use my box seats for Puddlemere."

Harry hummed, and Draco was unsure what to make of it. "Okay," Harry finally said, scruffing his hands through his hair that was hanging down today, brushing his jaw, as though it needed help to look messy. "I get it. So you cleaned my house, you've organised, and you're working through my schedule. What else?" He walked over to the cooker and put on a pot of water for tea.

Draco smiled. "As I said earlier, we go shopping for some new clothes."

Harry tried to object, but Draco cut him off.

"No, Harry, it's necessary. It's something typical adults do to take care of themselves. Speaking of which, when was the last time you saw a Healer?"

"I was thinking about that after you asked yesterday. It was last month after I was hit by a cutting curse in training."

"No, I mean for a general health check? And dental? Your eyes checked and new glasses?"

Harry shrugged and walked to the table with the tea tray. He sat down and took a biscuit. "When I entered Auror training, I reckon."

"Three years ago."

"Just about, yes."

Draco nodded, then pointed his wand at the chart, adding "scheduled annual healer appointments" to this list.

"Annual?" Harry sounded shocked.

Draco felt his eyebrows gather in confusion, which also annoyed him as that caused wrinkles. Leave it to Potter to age him already. He took a moment, then nodded. "Yes, Harry. Annual. Again, it's one of those things adults generally just do and don't talk about."

"Huh. Really?"

He sounded seriously confused. "Yes, really. What, did your family not do that when you were young? Is that not a thing with Muggles?"

Harry looked away, so Draco couldn't judge the man's response. "It probably is. I just didn't realise."

"Oh-kay," Draco drawled. "Anyway, we'll get you scheduled. What about regular haircuts and such?"

"Haircuts?"

"Yes, Potter, haircuts. You know, that thing when someone clips your hair into some semblance of reason?"

"Uh, I just do it myself, usually."

Draco dropped his quill. "What?"

Harry shrugged. "I usually—"

"Fuck. Stop. I heard you." Draco continued to swear under his breath. "This explains so much. All right. We'll add a regular haircut to your schedule." He pointed at the chart again and updated it.

They continued the list of items to schedule, and Draco began writing out notes to send out as they went. Finally, he looked at his watch. Okay, that's it for today. I have another appointment in an hour. You'll notice that I'm giving myself plenty of time to get there, and I don't schedule my appointments too close together."

He watched Harry nod sullenly and hoped he was taking this all in.

"Look, Harry. Ignoring whatever I've said in the past, and it pains me to admit it, but you're a smart man. I completely believe you can do this, and you can do it well. You just need to learn the little tips to make it work better, and to care enough to see it through."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. It just never really seemed to matter before. There was always someone to tell me what to do, and then Hermione was here to make sure I got where I needed to be, and I reckon I learned to just go with it." He looked over to the organisation chart. "I still don't think I need a sticker chart. We have one of those for Teddy to learn to use the loo. It's embarrassing."

Draco chuckled. "I may have seen Teddy's chart and taken some inspiration, I won't lie."

Harry looked like he'd been mortally offended, and Draco smothered his laugh.

"But it was a good idea, and I think it'll really work. Now, let's see how much good it does. Tomorrow, we'll try ten in the morning again. This time, limit your shower to only fifteen minutes and you'll be ready in time."

"Right. Fifteen minutes. Ten in the morning. Got it." He stood up and ushered Draco to the door. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."

Draco grinned. "Puddlemere box seats, Potter."

Harry laughed. "Piss off. Go."

As Draco walked down the steps and out of the building, he took a deep breath and smiled, then paused in consideration. He was enjoying himself. With Potter. "Well, fuck me." He shook his head in disbelief and headed towards his next appointment.

Living

Harry jumped into the shower at 9.15 am the next morning, knowing he had plenty of time. He stood under the showerhead and soaked in the hot water, thrilling at the luxury of it. Too many years of rushing through cold showers at the Dursleys still lingered in his memories, and every chance he could take to combat those feelings, he did.

He reached to pick up his shampoo bottle, squirted some into his hand, then began to soap. He'd gotten no further than one short scrub when the water suddenly turned cold. Not just cool, but cold. Frigid.

"Shit!" He reached for the handle and quickly adjusted it, but to no avail. It made no sense, though, as he never ran out of hot water—at least, not since Ron and Hermione had moved out. He had a huge water heater, and he lived alone. It was one of his favourite features of this flat. Quickly rinsing his hair, he slammed the water off as his teeth began to chatter.

Unsure what the hell had happened, he grabbed his wand and threw a warming charm on his towel, then wrapped it around him, sighing in relief. He left the bathroom and entering the hallway, he heard a loud beep coming from the kitchen. Beep probably wasn't the correct word for it, though. It was high pitched and alternated rhythms and tones every several seconds.

He turned the corner and noticed the chart, Draco's chart, flashing red and emitting the most annoying fucking alarm ever. Harry walked over and jabbed his wand at it. "Silencio!" he shouted over the din.

The chart silenced, and Harry had to put his face close to the chart to see the label on the square, as he'd not put his glasses on after he'd dried off. On the red square was flashing white text: Fifteen Minute Shower! Brrr!

"Son of a frozen bitch!" Malfoy and his fucking fifteen-minute shower.

Annoyed, Harry stormed down the hallway to his bedroom, cursing the clean floor and tidy dresser. He pulled out a pair of boxers—and yes, it was nice to have some clean ones, but he'd be damned if he'd be thankful right now—then entered his closet where all of his trousers and shirts were neatly hanging, sorted by season, type, and colour. He didn't have all that many clothes, but somehow, there'd been enough to sort and make Harry feel nervous about messing it all up.

And of course, guilty about the clothes lying on the floor from the night before. He reached down and threw them into the hamper, then grabbed jeans and a shirt from a hanger—his favourite blue one he'd been looking for the previous week, actually—and tossed them on the bed, then threw himself next to them. Why did it have to be so hard? It wasn't hard to actually do, but why did it have to be so hard to care about it?

He gave a frustrated sigh and got dressed, pulled on a pair of socks and marvelled at finding an actual pair without having to search, then ran a brush through his hair. He looked at the clock and realised, in shock, that he had time to eat breakfast and have a cup of tea before Draco arrived. Well, fuck me. It's actually working. Not that he'd admit that to Malfoy. At least, not yet.

"Now was that really so bad?" Draco asked Harry as they sat down with a pizza on the floor of the living room, their backs to the sofa. "You have new clothes, a lovely new haircut, and we've arranged all of your appointments for the next year. We've entered them onto your calendar, and when you keep those appointments, you'll schedule your next annual appointment before you leave. Then it's done, and you don't have to worry about it."

Harry took a bite of his pizza and appeared to be thinking, so Draco let him work. Finally, he looked over and cocked his head to the side. "You think my haircut is lovely?"

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to consider how to respond to that, when he realised he must look like a fish. Clamping his mouth shut, he straightened his shoulders and reached for his wine on the coffee table in front of him. He took a sip, then decided to answer honestly. It was his job to encourage the other man, after all.

"Yes, it's lovely. You look more mature, and stylish, and quite dishy, actually. Make sure you keep it up. We scheduled your next service before we left, so you've no excuse. I've already added it to your chart."

"Dishy, huh?"

"Potter—" Draco said in warning, then took another sip of his wine.

"No, no, that's okay," Harry smirked. "You're allowed to think I'm dishy. I think you're fit, so we're even, yeah?"

Draco choked on his wine and began to cough. "What?" he managed to get out.

"We're even." Harry took a bite of his pizza, grinning.

Draco put his wine down. "Potter, I don't know what you're playing at, but this is my job and I don't appreciate you making comments that could complicate things just to get a rise out of me."

Harry's expression sobered. "I apologise. You're right, and I wouldn't want to interfere with your job. You're quite good at what you do." He reached for his own glass of wine and paused. "It wasn't just to get a rise out of you, though. You're quite attractive, and as much as I've bitched, I'll admit that I've been enjoying myself this week."

Draco started to object again, but Harry cut him off.

"No, it's fine. Don't say anything. Just, thank you, for not making this process more miserable." He sipped his drink, then his eyes flashed. "But if you freeze me out of the shower again, I'll freeze your bollocks in return, and that's a promise."

Draco laughed. Harry had tried to hex him as soon as he'd opened the door that morning, but it was worth it. He just wished he could have seen the look on the man's face when the cold water hit. An image of Harry's naked body in the shower flashed before his eyes and he could feel his face heat, so he pushed the idea away. That wasn't something he needed to imagine…right now, anyway.

"Fine, but you need to set yourself an alarm in the bathroom if you know you have somewhere to be."

"Fine," Harry said with a huff. "So, now what?"

"Well, I'll be over every other day or so for the next week or two to see how you're keeping up, and we'll work on some of the organisation techniques we discussed. I also wanted to build you some shelves in the cupboard there, so you could—"

"No, thank you. I have enough shelves now, and I like the cupboard empty."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Because I do," Harry said, glaring. "Now, leave it."

Draco felt a pang of inexplicable hurt at the brush-off but admitted that it really wasn't his business. Still, he couldn't help the ice in his voice as he stood up and prepared to leave. "Yes, well, I believe that's my cue to leave then. I'll be back, as discussed, in two days. I believe you have Teddy scheduled to visit that day?"

Harry nodded. "Draco, I—"

"Good night, Harry." Draco gave Harry a curt nod and stepped out of the flat, closing the door behind him. He gave a little sigh and wanted to kick himself. "Fuck," he muttered, then descended the stairs and went out into the night.

"Da-co!"

Teddy ran up and wrapped himself around Draco's leg. Draco leaned down and scooped the toddler up into his arms, grinning as the little boy's hair turned a pale white-blond to match his own. "Hey, Teddy, little man."

Teddy stuck his thumb into his mouth and laid his head on Draco's shoulder. "Da-co."

Draco ran his hand over the boy's hair, then looked up as he heard a noise across the room. Harry stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them.

"He talks about you sometimes, you know," Harry said quietly. "I can't understand half of it, but he likes you." Harry smiled, and his eyes moved to the boy sucking his thumb. He dropped his voice. "Ob-viously."

Draco chuckled. "Your Snape impression isn't bad either. It's not mine, but it's not bad."

"Well, perhaps I should put that on my CV. 'Snape impression, nearly as good as Malfoy's'."

"You should. I believe the Auror corp would be impressed."

Harry shrugged. "I'll need something to impress them. Missing my examinations didn't do it, that's for sure."

Draco moved over to the sofa and sat down, adjusting the now dosing toddler on his shoulder. "It's going to be better, Harry. You're making great progress."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

Draco gave him a little smile, then realised this was the perfect opportunity to ask something that had been bothering him about the entire situation from the very beginning.

"Harry."

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something personal? You don't have to answer, but—"

"No, go ahead. And I'm sorry about last time. I was tired and just irritable. What's your question?"

Draco paused, considering how to word it.

"I understand that some people just struggle with organisation and such, and it's a good thing because it's why I have a job." He paused and looked around at the still immaculate flat. It looked nearly as good as it had a week previous when he'd first cleaned it. "You don't seem to have a problem with it now that I've helped you get started. It's like you just needed me to teach you what to do or something. Why?"

Harry's gaze fell to Teddy, his thumb now hanging from his mouth as he let out little snores. "No one ever taught me before."

Draco watched the man's eyes darken and tried to imagine what must be going through his head. He waited, hoping Harry would explain.

"When I was growing up, I had no freedom. I was given very specific tasks and told when and how to do them. There was no room for alteration, and asking questions wasn't allowed."

Draco gave a little nod, familiar with strict families.

"I never learned how to make decisions like that. I got some freedom at Hogwarts, but still, there was very little choice or chance to figure things out. I was busy dealing with Voldemort, or Umbridge, or conniving little Slytherins."

He shot Draco a little smirk at the end, and Draco couldn't help but be warmed by it. Something in his stomach gave a little twist of excitement.

"Anyway, Hermione was so absolute about her schedule and keeping Ron and me on it with her that I didn't have to think about it. Half of the time, she woke us up to get ready for breakfast, even. She reminded us when things were due, made us study or do our work, and kept us in line."

"Sounds like she enabled you so you didn't have to learn how to take care of yourself."

Harry scowled. "She enabled me to learn magic and still survive. I don't know if I'd have been able to keep up with everything without her. You have no idea what it was like to go through everything I did in school. I know you had a shit sixth and seventh year, but imagine going through that every single year from the time you were eleven."

Draco considered, and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, sorry. You're right; I have no idea." He paused, then asked quietly, "Go on?"

Giving a little sigh, Harry continued. "After the war, I lived at the Burrow for a while, then tried to live at Grimmauld Place for a month or two, but when Hermione left Hogwarts, she dragged me out of that cesspit and insisted we find a place together. And things kind of continued as they had been. Ron was with me, so I kept to a schedule with him, and life went on. I suppose I didn't realise how much I depended on them both until they decided to buy a house and move out together." He looked around the room. "And then I just didn't care enough to figure it out."

"What changed?" Draco asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Harry stood up and leaned down to take Teddy from Draco's arms. The boy curled an arm around Harry's neck, and Harry's green eyes burned into Draco, the passion suddenly flaring. "Teddy. Andromeda's right. I need to set a good example, so he can learn what I didn't." He stepped aside. "I'll put him down for a nap, then make some lunch. Do you know how to cook, Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head and watched the other man leave the room. He took a few deep breaths to slow his rapidly beating heart. Potter's intensity was—well, he chided himself for forgetting the effect that intensity had on him. And seeing him with Teddy in his arms nearly melted his icy Slytherin heart.

Before Draco could think about it too closely, Harry returned. "Come on, Malfoy. I'm going to teach you how to make lasagne."

What started as an impromptu cooking lesson turned into a regular activity. Draco visited every other day or so, worked Harry through a few schedule adjustments and organisational exercises, then stayed for a cooking lesson and lunch.

Draco continued to be awed by Harry's skill and activities in the kitchen. The man seemed completely at ease when cooking in a way Draco had never seen him in any other setting, except perhaps for on a broom. It was approximately two weeks and six meals into their new routine before Draco worked up the nerve to ask about it.

"It was the only thing my aunt ever really spent time teaching me, I suppose," Harry murmured, adding flour to the meat and vegetable mixture that would become a shepherd's pie.

Draco continued whipping the potatoes, waiting to see if he'd continue.

"She was very strict about her kitchen and always wanted to impress people with the dishes she made. I was her helper from a young age, and as I got older, I was meant to cook a good portion of it."

"As you got older?" Draco asked, incredulous. "You mean when you came home from Hogwarts in the summers?"

"Actually, not as much then. But when I got closer to Hogwarts age, really."

Draco just stared at the man next to him, wondering at the matter-of-fact tone. He watched him stir in the broth, his green eyes intent on his task, his neatly trimmed hair still tousled, allowing his fringe to brush his forehead.

"So, you were cooking meals for your family when you were ten years old?" Draco tried to keep his tone bland, unsure what he was feeling and what it might sound like if his voice reflected his inner-turmoil.

"Yup." Harry added a bit of fresh thyme from the little pot of herbs he had sitting in the window sill. "Anyway, I'm thankful for it now, as I find it calming."

Draco nodded. "Right. Well, you're good at it. And thank you for teaching me. I tried making the pasta yesterday for Pansy and Blaise. They were suitably impressed."

Harry flashed Draco a quick smile that had his insides turning strangely. "That's great. The lasagna, or the alfredo?"

"Alfredo." Observing his now whipped potatoes, he handed the bowl to Harry. "So now what?"

Harry pulled out a baking dish and layered the meat and potatoes, sprinkling something green across the top. "Now we bake and wait. So what's next for us?"

Draco's heart raced a bit. He couldn't possibly be asking what it sounded like, could he? "Us?"

"Well, I'm doing well with my flat, right? I've kept most of my appointments over the last two weeks, and my chart is looking nice and golden, don't you think?" Harry smirked. "So about those Puddlemere tickets…"

Draco forced out a laugh, curious at the disappointment he suddenly felt at the clarification. "Right." He glanced at the chart. "I thought you were against a sticker chart?"

"Hey, now, you can't back out of the bargain. I worked hard to earn those damned tickets."

Draco laughed. "Fine. I'll send some over tomorrow. Would you prefer Saturday's game, or Monday night's?"

Harry shrugged. "Which one works better for you?"

"Me?" Draco cocked his head.

Harry's golden skin took on a slight flush of red. "Uh, well, I thought you were going with me. Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed," he hurried on. "Either day works for me. I'm sure I'll find someone available, or maybe I'll just take Teddy."

That sensation in his stomach melted into a deep warmth. "I'd love to go with you, Harry, but I like the idea of taking Teddy, too."

The smile that crossed Harry's face sealed it, and Draco began to panic.

"Right." Draco stood and squared his shoulders. "I need to use the loo before we eat. I'll be back."

Hurrying from the room, Draco noticed the look of confusion on Harry's face but kept going. He needed a moment to collect himself and consider his reactions to the other man. In the loo, he went about his necessary business, then washed his hands and observed himself in the mirror.

"Pull yourself together, man," he muttered to his reflection. "This is Potter. Your schoolboy nemesis. Your client." He paused and watched his own eyes soften. "Your saviour." He sighed. "Fuck me. What am I doing?"

"Draco?" Harry called from outside the door. "Are you all right in there? It's just, I heard you talking, and I—"

"I'm fine," he interrupted. "I'll be out in a moment." He turned and dried his hands, then ran one through his hair, adjusting it back to its proper state. He straightened his back, held his chin up, then opened the door. "Honestly, Potter. You need to get some decent hand soap. It's a wonder your palms aren't cracked and bleeding with this slop."

Harry cocked his head. "Shall we put it on my list of things to fix?"

Draco relaxed and smirked, thankful to fall back into their familiar routine of snark. "Yes, let's do that. I'll even give you an extra flashy star on your chart for it."

Harry laughed, and they returned to the kitchen.

"So what's with the closet?"

Harry looked up in alarm from his plate full of the chicken tikka masala they'd made and tried to push down the spike of annoyance. "I thought we'd agreed that it was none of your business."

There was a brief flash of pain in Draco's eyes before he scowled and jerked his chin up, letting his face go blank and aloof. The guilt now overtook any annoyance Harry may have experienced at the question. They'd spent nearly four full weeks together and had become friends, real friends, Harry thought, and Draco deserved better than that.

"Fine," Harry muttered, and he watched Draco turn in apparent surprise. "I'll tell you, but you have to answer my question in return."

Draco looked hesitant. "It depends. What question?"

Harry considered how he wanted to ask his question. It had been puzzling him for weeks, but no hinting at the question drew out answers. He'd decided that Draco was avoiding it. "Why Living Arrangements? Why any job, really, but why this one in particular? I'd imagined you working in potions, or law, or something like that? I can't imagine you need to work for money, so you could do just about anything. Why this?"

Straightening his back, Draco sat silently, then nodded as if coming to a decision. "When I was young, I had lessons drilled into me about quite a bit. Magic, of course, and things we'd later learn in the early years of Hogwarts, and of course politics and the like. Part of that was running a manor, caring for tenants, and estate management."

Harry watched him take a sip of his drink and look down at his food, pushing it around with his fork, as if needing time to gather his thoughts further.

"So much of what I was taught," Draco finally continued in the waiting silence, "I've had to leave behind. It's all been tainted, you know? I don't know what to trust. Some stuff is obvious, like the pure-blood supremacy shit, but other things are more subtle and I don't see them until they're pointed out, and sometimes not even then."

Harry nodded, beginning to understand, but Draco went on.

"I want to do better, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I want to help people."

Harry felt some final remnant of unacknowledged hesitations inside him melt at Draco's admission. "And this helps people," Harry murmured.

"Yeah. And I'm using the skills I learned as a child, organisation and running an estate and so on, but there's no real way to taint this. It just is." He paused again and took a deep breath. "Those years during the war, when he was in our home, I grabbed onto that. I spent as much time with the details of the estate and keeping the manor in order as I could. And it gave me an excuse to be busy and away from the worst of it."

Harry reached out and put his hand on Draco's across the table. "You're good at it. It's good that you take comfort in it, too."

Draco nodded and turned his hand over, squeezing Harry's in return. "Yes, I suppose that's it. I take comfort in it." Then he grinned to lighten the mood, and if it didn't reach his eyes, Harry wasn't going to judge. "I'm going to quote you on that, by the way. I'll put it on my business cards. 'He's good at it,' says The Chosen One."

"Oh, piss off," Harry said with a laugh.

Draco took several more bites of his curry and Harry sat, enjoying the easy companionship. Finally, Draco broke the silence, and Harry wanted to curse.

"So, the cupboard."

"Fuck," Harry muttered, then he took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Sometimes, I have panic attacks. They usually happen in the middle of the night, waking from a dream, and when it happens, I get overwhelmed by open spaces."

Draco cocked his head, his steel-grey eyes drilling into Harry's. "Okay," he said quietly. "So you sit in the cupboard?"

Unable to say the next bit while looking at the other man, Harry looked away, then shrugged and sighed, determined to just spit it out. "When I was a child at my aunt's, before Hogwarts, my bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs. It wasn't much different than the cupboard in my living room now, and, well, it's almost like a security blanket when it gets bad. I can sit there in the dark and slow my breathing, sort of blocking everything else out." Harry stared down at his empty plate, willing away the humiliation of the explanation.

Draco made a sputtering sound that drew Harry's attention, and he looked back to the man. His normally pale face was a deep-red, and Harry drew back.

"What?"

"Harry," Draco spit out. "A cupboard under the stairs?" Draco's voice cut through Harry's embarrassment. "For years?"

Harry shrugged. "It's hardly the worst part of my life, Draco. And like I said, now it brings me peace."

Draco held up a hand. Harry watched him will his breathing to slow, and his face slowly began to return to its natural colour. After several minutes, he nodded and met Harry's eyes, the grey iris now softer and smokey. He stood up to clear the table in silence, obviously at ease in Harry's kitchen at this point as he placed the dishes in the dishwasher, then walked back to Harry and held out a hand as though to help Harry up.

Confused, Harry took it and allowed Draco to lead him to the tidy and pleasant living room. Before they could take more than a few steps into the room, Draco turned on Harry and pulled him to him. Harry would have fallen backwards in surprise, but Draco held him close and crushed his mouth against Harry's.

His soft, ridiculously luscious mouth, Harry's mind supplied before it went blank. Unable to think clearly, Harry instead just sank into the kiss, allowing the other man to pour comfort and understanding into every movement. Feeling Draco's hand stroking his back, Harry reached up and hung onto Draco's shoulders, then parted his lips.

Comfort quickly surged to something more, and as Draco's tongue traced Harry's lips and dipped inside, tasting Harry's mouth, lust overwhelmed any previous feeling Harry had been indulging. A moan slipped out of Harry's throat, coaxing a matching groan from Draco.

Draco pushed his other hand up into Harry's hair, then began backing Harry up towards the sofa. Before he could fall backwards, Harry pulled his mouth away, gasping for breath, and as Draco's mouth began nibbling down Harry's jaw, Harry managed to get a word out. "Draco."

"Harry," Draco muttered. "Harry."

Harry moaned again; the sound of his name on Draco's lips was like a gentle caress wrapped in longing. It was enough of an answer to assure Harry as to what was happening, and he pulled Draco down with him onto the cushions.

Draco straddled Harry, one knee each side of Harry's hips, and returned his mouth to working along Harry's jaw and neck. Harry, in turn, allowed his hands to fall to Draco's arse, running each palm down to cup the man's perfectly rounded cheeks.

Draco moaned, thrusting his hips forwards, rubbing his arousal against Harry's aching member.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco gasped, and Harry had to agree as he pulled Draco's mouth back to his, eager to taste him again.

Suddenly, from the kitchen came a high pitched screech, alternating rhythms and tones every several seconds.

Harry threw his head back laughing, and Draco looked up with a scowl.

"What the fuck is that?" Draco growled.

"The fucking alarm you set for me. I have an appointment with the Eye-healer in thirty minutes."

Draco groaned and pointed his wand towards the kitchen to silence the chart, then dropped his head down slowly to lay his forehead against Harry's. "I don't suppose you'll reschedule so we can continue?"

Harry put on his most affronted face. "And lose my gold star? Fuck, no! We'll just have to pick this up again later." He reached up and trailed a finger along Draco's jaw, watching the other man shiver. "And I do want to pick it up later."

Draco smiled shyly. "Me, too. Dinner tonight?" He hesitated. "Like, a date?"

Harry grinned. "I'll have to check my schedule."

Draco rolled his eyes and leaned forward and muttered, "Good," then captured Harry's lips again. "Really good."

And it was, Harry thought. Really good.

Finis

EndNote: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories, mostly Drarry, in my profile. Also, consider checking out the Strugglefest over on AO3. Just google "Drarry Strugglefest 2020 AO3" for the link.