Title: Draco Malfoy, Undersecretary For The Minister

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

Beta: None

Wordcount: 6,800

Rating: NY-16 Warning: Slight crackish feel. Adult Language. Dirty Talk. Excessive use of Capital Letters and Italics. Minor Fluff.

Pairings: Harry/Draco

Summary: Draco Malfoy is the Undersecretary For The Minister, he also has a Tiny Insignificant Crush on Harry Potter.

Authors Notes: My first Oneshot that's Drarry! It's based off of a picture that alaana_fair has under her birthday flist thingy. Her journal is friendlocked, so you can't see the picture unless your over 18 (and if you are I suggest you follow her post haste. The Happy Birthdays are always so *nom*nom* worthy.)

Draco Malfoy, Undersecretary For The Minister

If anyone had told Draco during 6th year he would eventually become Undersecretary to The Minister, he wouldn't have blinked before throwing Cruciatus Curse at him or her and breaking their nose repeatedly repeatedly as they writhed in pain. Luckily for them that didn't happen and luckily for him the unspoken prophecy came true.

Draco was the Last Line of Defense between The Minister and those that wished to accost him, including but not limited to; unwanted guests, visitors, associates, plebeians, Gryffindors, advocates for unwanted or unappreciated causes, and bleeding heart liberals. Which is why when Draco saw Granger enter his office he immediately went into battle mode.

Granger was here often, too often for Draco's liking. She was always trying to Undermine his Authority. She liked to think that because her and Kingsley fought a measly war together that she was supposed to be allowed to see The Minister whenever she liked. Well she couldn't, not when Draco ever had a say in it and he always had a say in it.

Instead of acknowledging her presence Draco began to review the files on his desk. Not only was he the Last Line of Defense for sittings with the Minister, Draco was also the Last Line of Defense for stupid, reckless and meaningless proposals. Draco picked up the first proposal on his desk and couldn't suppress a snort. It was for S. P. E. W.

Rolling his eyes Draco sent it to the rubbish bin and with a decisive flick, incinerated it.

"Malfoy was that my proposal?" Granger asked in a faraway voice and Draco looked up with mildly wide eyes.

"Granger whenever did you get here?" Draco asked in what he knew was a Very Shocked Manner and placed his hand over his heart.

"Never mind that Malfoy," Granger said distracted and Draco got struck with the feeling that Something Was Not Right. Granger's tone was completely off. Normally when she walked into his office her shoulders were squared, and her mouth was set in a grim line.

Today her shoulders were slumped and she wrung her hands nervously.

"I know we're not friends Malfoy but-"

Draco's lips twitched. Someone beginning a sentence with "I know we're not friends—" did not sit right with him, not in the least. If they were anyone else he probably would have sneered, told them precisely why they were not friends and escorted them out of his office before cackling about it to himself as he resumed his work.

But this was Granger and while they certainly were not friends she also was not who had nothing to offer him. So Draco waited and began to plot. There was more silence as Granger wrung her hands and nibbled at her bottom lip. Her eyes frequented the corners of his small office assessing everything. It took a long moment before she looked back at him but when she did a familiar look of determination was in her eyes.

"Look Malfoy, have you seen Harry?"

There were many things that Draco expected Hermione Persimmon Granger-Weasley to say to him and there were many that he did not expect. He expected her to rattle off nonsense about how he was stunting the growth of the Wizarding World with his endless regime of paperwork to see The Minister, he expected her to go into a spiel about how her rallies about reverse-discrimination were the only reason he got his job, hell Draco even expected her to say something about wanting to get her unmanicured hands into his pureblood trousers because well lets face it—who didn't—but Draco Lucius Malfoy Did Not Expect Hermione Persimmon Granger to ask him about Harry Potter.

Given the expected questions and the question asked Draco figured he did rather well when he responded with a very articulate and incredulous, "What?" to her question.

"I'll take your response to mean you haven't—oh damn him. Where could he have gone?" Granger was wailing in his office and suddenly Draco felt claustrophobic.

"Granger what happened to Potter?" If Draco's voice sounded strangled it was because he had Ceased Breathing. Apparently his lungs had taken a hiatus as his brain tried to figure out what happened to The Man He Hated.

"He escaped from his holding cell—" Granger had begun to tell him when all of a sudden she seemed to realize whom she was talking too. Her brown eyes darkened considerably and if Draco had been anyone else he might have been afraid.

Luckily for Draco he was none other than Draco and therefore was not afraid of the dark look in Granger's eyes. In fact it reminded him of their place in life. Him at the very top as Under Secretary to The Ministry and Granger as a lowly Order of Merlin, Second Class Recipient. Draco raised his chin in a way that he knew Exemplified his Betterness and Granger's glower deepened.

"Don't worry about it Malfoy," her voice was crisp. "Despite the fact that Harry's always been a little irrational when it came to you I'm certain he'll have better taste." With a decisive nod she turned on her heel and strode out of Draco's office slamming the door leaving the pureblood blonde with his nose in the air at absolutely nothing.

.D.H.

The rest of his day progressed smoothly and Draco certainly Was Not Ruffled by Granger's intrusion into his life. In fact by the time it was time for his office to close he was certain that he had forgotten about it. Draco went home to his flat and his boyfriend who most certainly Did Not look like Harry Potter, despite what Pansy and Blaise said. Alberto's hair was dark brown, not the ebony tresses that Potter sported and while Potter's eyes were the deep green of well tended grass, Alberto's eyes were a paler shade and held none of Potter's hidden depth.

However the moment Draco stepped into his flat he knew that Something Was Not Right. First, the lights were off. Alberto never had the lights off because he was afraid of the dark (there was something to be said about having a 18 year old lover when one was 27 but all of those things had already been said by Blaise and Pansy, repeatedly, unwarranted and unwanted.) Secondly, there was no food waiting for Draco when he got home (there was something to be said about how a Sex God such a Draco should be well taken care of, and even though Alberto had that covered anyone else was welcome to worship him as well).

"Alber? Draco called cautiously as he walked further into his flat looking around. There was a sound that came from the kitchen and Draco followed it slowly his wand out, however there was no threat.

Just Alber sitting in the dark at the glass dining table that Draco had purchased only two weeks ago in one of his best Armani suits. Draco felt a predatory smile form on his face; he did love a man in a good suit. Slowly, Draco lowered his wand and then stiffened. Alberto looked different. His shoulders were broader; his hair looked more luxurious and there was an aura of masculinity about him that hadn't been there before.

That wasn't Alberto at his table, but it didn't take Draco more than five seconds to figure out who it was.

"Hello, Potter," Draco said evenly. He was proud of himself for forcing his voice not to shake despite the fact that his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. Potter was at his dining room table. Pott-er. Not Albert-o, but Pott-er.

Even in the darkness Draco could see the sheepish smile Potter gave him and his heart clenched before continuing it's relentless pounding. If Draco didn't know any better he would have thought he was having a heart attack, but Malfoy's didn't have such plebian ailments.

"Hello, Draco."

Potter's voice was not the same. It was deeper, darker—better—somehow though Draco didn't even know how that was possible for it to be better because the last time he'd heard it he was certain that it had been perfect—perfect enough to make his cock twitch with just a quickly muttered "excuse me."

"Mind telling me what you're doing in my flat in my boyfriends clothes?" Draco asked lightly as he fingered his wand and there was a sudden rip that startled him into a defensive position. Potter had apparently flexed in Alberto's Best Armani Suit and ripped it.

There was something to be said about a man who could flex and rip a suit. Draco's mouth became dry with the implications, which was good, because he couldn't speak the something that should be said—which shouldn't be said because this was not Albert-o at his table but Pott-er.

"Ex-boyfriend," Potter snarled leaning forward with both hands on the table and Draco felt his body heat up with something more than caution. He did so love an aggressive man, on occasion.

"Ex-boyfriend," Draco acquiesced with an incline of his head curiosity bubbling inside of his body. It was days like these that he was thankful for The Bastard Lucius, Merlin rest his soul. He could remain calm on the outside but on the inside he was panicking. Why in Salazar's name was Harry Potter in his flat in Alberto's clothes? Why in Merlin's name was Harry Potter in his flat at all? Why in—why in all that was good…

Draco's mind lost the ability to think because Potter had efficiently and swiftly turned it into goo. There was a tearing sound and more of the (bronzened,sun-kissed, beautiful,beautiful) skin was reveled. Potter was ripping Alberto's Finest Armani Suit off of his body and onto the floor with no more effort than Draco put into A.K'ing a fly.

"Potter," Draco squeaked before promptly covering his mouth with his hand. He could not come undone like this. No. Something was obviously Terribly, Dreadfully, Horribly wrong with Potter.

After he was completely unclothed Potter looked at Draco and despite the darkness he could see those dark green (Evergreen,forest-green,intoeternity) eyes clearly. Potter smirked, and Draco did what any self-respecting Slytherin would do. He fled.

.H.D.

After fleeing his kitchen for his bedroom, locking the door with as many forbidden, important and dark locking spells as he could, having a quick wank and slowly talking himself down from panic—Draco was Calm, Cool and Collected. He walked out of his room with a Self-Assured heir that only he could manage.

He could do this. He could handle whatever Potter threw at him because he was Draco Lucius Malfoy, superior amongst Purebloods, god amongst the Wizarding world and-i—Potter still hadn't put any clothes on.

The Gryffindor Wanker (wank? Whythankyou) was sitting on Draco's white couching in nothing but black boxer-briefs and if that wasn't enough he was hung like a horse.

If Draco was a Shameless Bottom he probably would have dropped to his knees and crawled to Potter and licked that Beautiful Amazing Bulge and given it the proper worshipping it deserved not resting until Potter's cock was down his throat and it Most Certainly would be down his throat because Potter was Just That Hung.

Luckily for Draco he was not a Shameless Bottom but a Powerful Vers' and therefore the only sound he uttered was a Very Manly whimper before he was able to contain himself in the Most Dignified Manner available, by biting his tongue.

"Potter," Draco was pleased that his voice only sounded slightly strangled. "Your nude."

Potter looked up and Draco and smirked at him again. An insufferable, infuriating smirk that made Draco's stomach catch on fire and his groin stir heat that could only be described as interest. He couldn't do this. He couldn't handle this Confident Potter slouching on his very expensive white couch with his legs slightly parted inviting Draco to lick and nuzzle and suck and inhale and ride and grind and—

"I am not nude, Draco," Potter said as he slowly stood. "But I could be if you want me to." He faced Draco and slowly began to play with the waistband of his trousers Forcing Draco's eyes down to that Very Impressive Bulge and the action didn't just turn Draco on, it made him furious. The fire in his belly roared and covered his entire body like a wave.

How could he have been so stupid? This wasn't Potter. It couldn't be Potter. Potter was still a self-conscious a dork that despite his power. There was no way that Potter would be in Draco's flat, propositioning Draco.

"Okay, the game is over," Draco snapped waving his wand and turning on the lights purposefully at looking at the false Potter. "Where are they? Pansy? Blaise? Alberto? This game is cruel." Draco sent a cutting hex to his curtains hoping to lure whoever was watching out of hiding.

"Draco, what's wrong?" Potter asked him in a panicked tone and Draco turned to the charlatan grey eyes blazing. It was either hurt or anger and Draco chose the latter. He let it erupt in his body burning the pain and using it for fuel. How dare this imposter pretend that he didn't know what the hell was wrong. How dare he talk to Draco like he was innocent.

Draco's hands began to shake. He faintly heard a voice calling his name but all he heard was the roaring of his blood in his ears. With a very UnMalfoyesque Bellow Draco brought his wand down in a slashing motion binding false Potter's hands behind his back and ankles together.

Under any other circumstances the sight would have turned Draco on, but his anger controlled his libido this time, kind of.

The fact that the Imposter Potter didn't fall also helped Draco decide that the Potter before him was not the actual Potter. Everyone knew Potter was a clumsy bumbling idiot.

"You dare speak to me," Draco hissed livid with anger and hurt. He pointed his wand at the imposters face. "You agreeing to participate in this game have the audacity to call me by my given name"

"Wait—what?" Potter asked and Draco had to hand it to whoever the actor was. He managed to get Potter's confused look perfectly and though normally Draco may have found the look somewhat endearing, it just served to infuriate him further.

"Don't play dumb," Draco accentuated every word with a poke of his wand into the fake Potter's firm chest. "How'd you do it—Polyjuice? That's illegal unless you got Potter's permission and—"

Draco abruptly closed his mouth. He was going to say that Potter wouldn't have given him permission, but what he did? Potter had completely and utterly misunderstood Draco's completely innocent attention craving pranks as cruel, callous and juvenile.

"Draco, what are you talking about? I'm not under Polyjuice. It's me—Potter!"

The imposter sounded so much like Potter that Draco's wand wavered but only for a second.

"Why would Potter come to my flat after escaping the Ministry?" Draco demanded hotly as he began mentally reviewing laws in his head. He knew he had a right to defend his property against intruders, but he couldn't remember if he was allowed to torture said imposters.

"How do you know I escaped from the Ministry?" Potter asked and Draco's eyes narrowed. He muttered a sharp stinging curse and the Imposter Potter jumped backwards into Draco's white couch at a very awkward angle. Instead of responding Draco just took a Very Menacing step forward brandishing his wand. He was the Undersecretary to The Minister, surely the laws on torture were somewhat relaxed for him and if they weren't, he'd get a law passed so that they were.

The Imposter Potter's eyes widened and Draco satisfaction curled in Draco's chest. He chuckled.

"Look that doesn't even matter, what matter's is that I am me. I am Harry Potter! I'm not Polyjuiced and I can prove it to you!" Potter's speech was rushed and hurried and Draco realized that he wasn't ready for the game to end.

He put his wand down at his side and smirked at the Imposter Potter.

"I'm waiting."

"You're not going to untie me?" Potter asked stupidly and Draco decided that whoever was playing Potter had obviously been a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff.

"No," Draco said shortly rolling his eyes. "You haven't proven to me that you are Potter, why would I leave you with your hands free to curse me?"

There was silence as Potter looked at him incredulously before shaking his head and leaning back somehow still sexy despite the awkward angle.

"Draco," Potter-no Imposter Potter's voice was low and dark and curled into Draco's ears like honey. "Where am I hiding a wand?"

The question forced Draco to take inventory of Imposter Potter's state of dress, or Undress rather and then his traitorous eyeballs involuntarily took inventory of (Imposter!) Potter's Very Impressive Bulge. A blush threatened to ruin Draco's fisade of calm but he suppressed it by with mere Force of Will, or so he hoped.

Draco conjured himself a chair and sat in front of the Imposter Potter and placed his wand in his lap expectantly.

"You're not helping your cause you know," Draco supplied. "You're not behaving like Potter."

"I'm not?"

Instead of sounding nervous the Imposter Potter sounded amused. It irked Draco. He was in control here. He sent another Stinging Hex to the imposter and smirked in satisfaction at the slight jump the imposter made.

Draco's smirk faltered however when the imposter's eyes turned that (delicious) dark-dark green that Potter's did when he was angry. It was a look that Draco knew well.

"Don't do that again," (Imposter!) Potter warned. It was all very Potter like, and then Draco remembered the warning he just gave the Imposter Potter and laughed aloud.

"Way to save your façade. I tell you that you're not acting like Potter and then you save face. You almost had me." All the laughter faded from Draco's face in an instant. "I'm still waiting."

"Jesus Christ Malfoy—" Potter cut off shaking his head. "Okay, you want me to prove to you that I'm Harry Potter? Well, I can't. Not enough to satisfy you. There is nothing that I could say that would prove to you that I am Harry Potter, freshly escaped from The Ministry in your flat because I'd like to get in your pants. I could tell you about how we first met, but you've probably told your friends that story—so it doesn't count. I could tell you about any of our numerous fights, and arguments over Hogwarts but those wouldn't count because they were too public. I could tell you about the Sectumsempra incident—which I'm bloody sorry for by the way, I didn't know what the spell did—but either you not knowing me as well as you think you know me would believe that I bragged about being able to curse Draco Malfoy in Gryffindor would believe that everyone knew—" Potter paused here to take a breath before continuing. "Or you've told your friends and you believe them to be in on whatever prank you think is being pulled on you and I know that—" Potter continued with a slight glare silencing Draco's 'ah-ha!' "Because you were calling their name and telling them to come out earlier. So the only reasonable solution I feel can occur is you checking me for Glamour as we wait out this supposed Polyjuice."

There was a long silence before Draco spoke.

"You talk too much to be Potter."

The loud groan that the Imposter Potter made was drowned out by Draco's thoughts thundering about in his head. Whoever the imposter was had to have been in Gryffindor with Potter to play him so well, or been in Slytherin with Draco to know him so well. Draco was half tempted to untie the Imposter Potter—but that's exactly what the imposter wanted.

"We'll wait fifty minutes to be certain you're not Polyjuiced," Draco said shortly as he stood and lifted his wand to begin casting. He watched as the Imposter Potter flinched before relaxing and nodding his head at Draco, as if Draco had been asking for permission.

As spell after spell came back Negative Draco began to get antsy. There was Doubt growing in his mind now, what if it was Potter? But—he knew it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. The spell casting only took 25 minutes, which meant there was another 25 to go before Draco would believe that the imposter wasn't Polyjuiced.

Sitting back in his chair Draco surveyed the Imposter who looked at him with something akin to awe. Pleasure blossomed in Draco's chest and he then cut it with a pruning sheer. This was not Potter.

"You're beautiful when you cast," Potter muttered as he looked at Draco and then looked away almost shyly. "And I didn't know half the spells you performed. You truly are amazing."

As the Imposter Potter spoke Draco resisted the urge to whine. It wasn't fair that the words that he craved to hear from Potter all of his life come from an Imposter. It wasn't fair that despite the fact that he knew it wasn't the actual Potter his subconscious didn't seem to care as Mental Draco began to preen at the back of his mind and sunshine beamed all around his soul.

Joy had no place here. Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on his anger. Someone was obviously out to hurt him, preying on his Tiny Insignificant Crush on Potter that most certainly did not deserve a capital letter. Draco let his anger burn the joy and turned the blossoms into ashes. He was playing a game. He was waiting this out so that he would have more satisfaction when he destroyed whoever dare treat him like a toy.

When Draco opened his eyes again he was pleased to see Potter recoil slightly.

"If you are Potter, tell me how you came to be in my flat." Draco's voice was emotionless.

The Imposter Potter watched him silent and Draco locked his nervousness in a chest at the back of his mind.

"Very well then," Potter said as he leaned his head back. Draco's eyes were involuntarily drawn to the Adams apple that he hadn't noticed before (how had he not?) and clenched his teeth tightly. It wasn't fair that the man of his dreams sat before him in tight black boxer-briefs with a Very Impressive Bulge that Draco would not look at and a delicious Adams apple that begged to be licked, and kissed and sucked and—

"You know I'm very into Werewolf Rights and all of that right?" Potter's voice broke Draco out of his thoughts and Draco subtly lifted his eyes from (Imposter) Potter's Adams apple to his eyes. Then as Draco began to drown in green he slowly lifted his eyes to stare at the hair at the front of the Imposter Potter's head.

It was stupid hair.

"I've seen a proposal or two." In fact, Draco had seen several and had pushed them all to The Minister right away, but the Imposter Potter didn't need to know that.

Potter snorted and Draco snapped a glare before realizing that he was looking into those impossible eyes and flicked his eyes to the side of the room at a random painting Alberto gave him.

"You've probably seen dozens. Anyway, me being an advocate for werewolf rights makes me very unpopular with many people. Not only purebloods either because of Greyback—" (imposter) Potter paused Draco immediately understood.

After Potter defeated The Dark Lord Greyback began terrorizing the Wizarding World with abandon. There was order to how the werewolf attacked. It wasn't only politicians, it wasn't only mudbloods, it was everyone—and he didn't want anything, which made it all the more terrifying.

He managed to infect over fifty new werewolves before he was caught. Caught by Potter himself. Draco's eyes flickered over to the Imposter Potter before turning to admire another painting.

"I don't know what this has to do with anything," Draco said stiffly.

"I would get to it if you would let me finish," Imposter Potter snapped at him and Draco glared darkly.

"I don't even know why I'm entertaining this fallacy anymore. It's no longer amusing in the least," Draco wasn't sure if it had ever been amusing, but he was tired teasing himself. "I'm going to firecall Granger. She'll know if you the real Potter or not."

At Granger's name Potter blanched and then shook his head.

"Don't do that Draco. She'll make me go back to that holding cell so they can 'fix me' but I don't want to be fixed. I'm thinking clearer now than I ever did before—wait—how'd you know to call Hermione?" Imposter Potter's pleas were interrupted by his revelation.

Draco watched the Imposter's dramatics, intrigued. It reminded him of the time Astoria caught him drunk out of his mind the night before a speech and threatened to take him to Pansy.

"Granger, came into my office to day asked me had I seen you at all," Draco only told the Imposter to see what he would do. The Imposter Potter looked shocked at first before a small smile formed on his face.

"Hermione always knows," Imposter Potter said with a fondness.

"Granger's a smart girl," Draco murmured. "But—" the blonde cleared his throat. "You never finished your story. People are angry with you for your werewolf advocacy."

Imposter Pottered peered at him but Draco was careful to keep his features schooled. "Well, that is to say—" Imposter Potter began to stutter. "A few of them… well…I got kidnapped." The last part was said out in a rush and Draco couldn't contain his laughter.

"You expect me to believe that the Savior of The Wizarding World got kidnapped by some—werewolf haters? When he took out the biggest and baddest werewolf known?"

Imposter Potter's groan echoed throughout the room. "I know—I know. It's embarrassing. Ron won't let me hear the end of it and I'm surer Hermione won't either once she—" Imposter Potter broke off shaking his head. "Anyway they kidnapped me, force fed me a potion and then left me before Ron and Hermione found me."

"And what did this Potion do hm?" Draco asked, caught up in the story despite himself.

"Well, we don't know what it was supposed to do—but from what we gathered it makes me—somewhat like a werewolf…"

Draco tensed in his seat and slowly rose in what he hoped was an Intimidating Way. "You expect me to believe that Harry Potter was cursed with Lycanthrope and then decided to come trespassing in my flat? For what—to infect me?"

Potter blanched. "No—no—no. These are people that despise werewolf's—they wouldn't have one with them long enough for me to get infected. Besides I said a potion, Draco. A potion. The Ministry and Hermione think that they meant to give me a false wolf… thinking that if I really knew what it was like to have one of them inside of me that I would understand how dangerous they were but the Potion didn't do that—not really..."

"So what did the potion do then?" Draco demanded and Potter looked at him. It was a look that made heat flare inside of Draco and his nostrils flare.

"It made my mentality a bit more… animalistic…"

A shiver ran down Draco's spine. Potter licked his lips and Draco's body began to react.

"Describe these animalistic instincts," Draco purred and he smirked as Potter's cock twitched through his boxer-briefs.

"I'm more aware of what I want." Potter's eyes were darkening in the most delicious way.

"I see." Draco muttered and he did see. "The Polyjuice should have ended five minutes ago. So—what is it that you want?"

There was a moment of silence that echoed in Draco's ears before Potter pulled his hands apart destroying the bindings that Draco had placed on him. Draco had no time to react before Potter was in front of him, those too green eyes too close for him to ignore. Draco closed his eyes and waited for a kiss, that didn't come.

Instead he felt the pads of a rough thumb ghosting across his lips and hot breath in his ear. "Do you want me Draco?" Potter asked him, his low timbre vibrating through Draco's body, he suppressed a moan. "I know you do. Your boyfriend was here when I arrived—what a pathetic replacement."

Draco heard the animal in Potter on the word boyfriend and the sneer in his voice on replacement. He couldn't suppress his whimper. He was trembling. There was Too Much going on. This was Too Much for him to deal with and he wasn't sure if he could handle it all. He had Harry Potter semi-nude before him, all hardness and muscle; and earlier he had Harry Potter tied up pretending to be at his mercy; and right now he had Harry Potter's breath in his ear and thumb on his lips and (OhmyMerlintheImpressiveBulge) growing against him and things would be prefect if Potter would just kiss him.

"Ex," Draco breathed out against Potters thumb. The caressing froze and inwardly Draco crowed delight. Potter's hand shifted so that his fingers were caressing the nape of Draco's neck and then… they were kissing.

It was a slow and Painfully Tender kiss that left Draco trembling in Potter's arms. Their lips caressed leisurely. It was as if they had all the time in the world, or that time had stopped for them. The way that their tongues danced melted Draco's bones. He was acutely aware of his arousal. It smoldered inside of him dark, heady and expectant. When Potter pulled away Draco saw his arousal personified in the dark green eyes. His heart hammered in his chest as Potter's hand gripped his shoulder.

"You have no idea what you've been doing to me." The dark velvet of Harry's voice curled into Draco's ears and went straight to his cock. He bit back a moan and Harry chuckled.

"I could smell it you know—your arousal. One of the perks of the potion they gave me. I caught a whiff of it when you walked into the kitchen—but it was nothing compared to what I sensed after you barricaded yourself in your room. Tell me Draco, what did you do in there behind lock-and-key far away from the Big Bad Wolf? Did you do it on the bed or right there against the door?"

Potter's hand was once again playing with the hair on the nape of Draco's neck and his other hand was (OhMerlin) caressing The Very Impressive Bulge as he continued to whisper into Draco's ear. Draco tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. He settled for swallowing.

"I think you did it against the door," Potter's tone was almost conversational. "As soon as you were safe from me you fumbled with the fastenings on your trousers with trembling fingers. When you finally had your hand wrapped around your cock you gasp and threw your head back hitting it against the door and not being assed to care because you were imaging me as you wanked and it felt so fucking good…." Potter groaned into Draco's ear and the smoldering in his belly turned to fire. It was as if it all spontaneously combusted into one

Draco Lost Control.

He pushed Potter backwards onto his white couch and watched as The Man Who Lived sprawled backwards anger mingling with the lust in his eyes. The look served to ignite Draco further and with a grace that belied his nervousness, he fell to his knees before the Very Impressive Bulge and inhaled.

He was just about to pull Potter's underwear when a hurried and strangled, "STOP," made him pause. It wasn't a sexy strangled sound either. It was a sound that was riddled with concentration and mixed with pain.

"Draco go," Potter said through clenched teeth and Draco scrambled to his feet confused. The pain on Potter's brow was evident. His hands were clenching and unclenching on Draco's Very Expensive Couch. Something was Obviously Amiss, Draco just couldn't figure out what.

"Potter—Harry—what's wrong—is it?" me. Draco couldn't finish asking the question. Not only because is Tiny Insignificant Insecurities but because Harry began to writhe. He stuck his claws (claws?) into Draco's Very Expensive couch and arched his back so deep that Draco was sure he ripped his spine in two. He screamed and Draco felt the room shake, before he realized it was him.

"MALFOY GET INTO YOUR ROOM NOW! NOW!"

Harry's tone left no room for argument. The Potion, whatever had been in that damn Potion was doing something to Harry. Heart hammering Draco hightailed it out of the living room into his bedroom and put himself under some hefty defense spells. He also did some transfiguration where he turned the doorknob into a second door and then turned the second door solid silver.

A howl penetrated the door, but no wolf man. Draco's hands were shaking so much that he could barely hold his wand. What would have happened if the transformation had started later? Didn't Harry say they ran tests and the Potion didn't change him?

"Draco?" The voice was so small against his door that Draco barely heard it through all the spells and silver. Immediately Draco began to remove the spells.

"What are you doing? No stop! Stop!" The panic in Harry's voice halted him.

"Potter—Harry, what's wrong with you? What happened?" Draco tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. A high pitch whine made Draco pause.

"Partial transformation. I should have known there was a reason I was fixated on lust—" Harry was speaking slowly and carefully, but something was off.

"I want to see you," Draco said softly and was surprised to realize that he meant it.

"No," Harry's voice sounded horrified but Draco didn't care. He continued to dismantle the protection spells.

"No Draco I don't know what I'll—" Harry cut off and then Draco heard scrambling, something that sounded like claws on his Custom Wood Floor. He sped up his spell removal, but it was too late.

Harry was gone and his house was destroyed. The Very Expensive Couch had been ripped to shreds. Draco could see where Harry had sat in front of his door because there were claw marks in the wood. 'Draco' with a heart had been etched into his door before Harry made his disappearing act.

Scowling Draco set his Very Expensive Couch ablaze.

D.H.D.H

It had been two weeks. The Incident should have been forgotten by now. Draco was certain that he would have forgotten it, if it weren't for Blaise's and Pansy's meddling. They kept reminding him of it. Asking him questions about Potter and his 'aliment', and what he said to drake and his Not As Impressive In Retrospect Bulge, but the most infuriating question of all was, "have you heard from him yet?"

No, he hadn't. Draco hadn't heard from not Potter, or Granger, or Weasley, or Weasley, or Weasley, or Weasley, or Longbottom, or Lovegood, or Potter. Not that he would have accepted correspondence from most of the people on that list. It also was not as if Draco expected to hear anything from Potter, because he didn't.

In retrospect Draco considered it to be a plot by Granger to throw him off of his game as the Under Secretary for The Minister. Ever since The Incident he'd been so distracted that he actually let two—TWO of her proposals through. Despite their Underhanded Gryffindor Plot to throw him off Draco Lucius Malfoy was back to his old self.

Squaring his shoulders and walking out of the lift towards his desk in front of the Minister's Office, Draco walked like a man with a plan. However, the closer he got to his—err—The Minister's Office the more he realized that Something Was Not Right. There were voices. Voices that sounded like they were arguing—arguing! —In Draco's—err-The Minster's Office.

"I'm not—letting—you—leave, —" the female voice sounded like she was struggling. It also sounded familiar.

"Hermione, let me go—I need to get out of here before he comes back!" The very familiar masculine voice was struggling and panicking. Draco's nostrils flared as soon as he realized to whom the voice belonged.

Potter (and Granger) were in his office. Whispering about things that Draco couldn't hear. They probably knew that their Lowly Gryffindor Plot would only work on a Slytherin like him for so long. At once Draco realized that before he left for lunch he saw three, (three!) proposals from each of them on his desk. 'That's what they must be after,' Draco thought with widening eyes.

Draco jumped into the room with his wand drawn. Potter and Granger's eyes widened almost comically, however they both were very far from his desk.

"See, Hermione," Potter whined. "He wants to curse me. I told you we never should have come here—"

"Hush Harry," Granger silenced as she watched Draco warily. "Malfoy, why is your wand out?"

"To keep both of you miscreants away from the proposals on my desk," Draco's eyes narrowed menacingly. "I know what you're trying to do—both of you—I saw the proposals—you're trying to Undermine My Authority and get them to The Minister without my approval. You both knew your Underhanded Gryffindor Plot wouldn't keep me distracted for long so you came today to make sure that your proposals went through—"

"Draco what are you—" Potter's voice was silenced by Granger batting her hands at him. Draco was almost thankful for Grangers interference. Draco didn't know what he would do if Potter denied that which was obvious.

"Our underhanded Gryffindor plot hm?" Granger asked him in a low voice and Draco nodded sniffing haughtily.

"I must say it was quite wise, using the fact that Potter looked like Alberto—" there was a sound that could have been growling but Draco couldn't see beyond his nose, "—to inspire lust enough within me to distract me from my job."

"Someone told me that you had an enormous significant crush on Harry," Granger purred and Draco spluttered.

"It was a Tiny Insignificant Crush!"

"Ah-ha!"

Draco covered his mouth with his hand glaring as his heart sped up in his chest.

"The enormous significant crush must have been what Harry told me he felt for you," Granger simpered. "My mistake Mal—Draco—" she gave him what was probably supposed to be a friendly smile, but it reminded Draco of a man-eating shark.

"I'll take this—" Granger plucked a random proposal off of Draco's desk but he was too busy staring at Potter to actually care. "And be off to see The Minister." Draco waved her off impatiently; he had more important things to discuss. Once Granger was gone Draco stared at Potter.

"Aren't you going to dispute what she said?" Draco asked him softly as he let his wand hand fall.

"Why would I?" Potter paused to clear his throat. "She was telling the truth."

"Then why didn't you come back?" Draco blurted the question before could help himself. Not even his Very Impressive Willpower could keep him silent.

"You liked that—" Potter's hands made a grand sweeping jesture, "—that other self-assured Harry and I'm not him."

"So The Potion made you like me?" Draco asked softly and the force of Harry's 'no' startled him.

"No," Harry continued in a smaller voice. "The Potion just made me… focus on my wants and erm—lusts—more than I normally would."

"Oh." Draco didn't know what to do from here, he felt as though he were missing something very obvious. Harry liked him, a lot. He liked Harry…enough, but where did they go from here?

"So uhm… you have a Tiny Isignifcant Crush on me?" Harry asked in the same small voice and Draco looked at him with eyes bright with wonder.

"Harry! Did you just say Tiny Inignicant Crush with capital letters?" Draco asked and Harry blushed deeply, mumbling something about 'that's how it sounded when Draco said it.'

Harry was willing to speak in capital letters for him.

"And I'm not the undersecretary for the minister, but The Undersecretary for The Minister—right?" Draco felt like a child who found a new favorite candy.

Harry's nod had a sense of gravitas about it. "As The Undersecretary for The Minister you're the Last Line of Defense between him and—"

Harry was cut off by Draco flinging himself into his arms for a heated snog. Harry was willing to speak in Capital Letters for him, he got it.

They'd figure everything else out on the way.

Authors Notes: My first one shot. Did you like it? What did you like? What didn't you like? REVIEW *begins baking cookies*