What's Love Got to Do With It?

This wasn't love. It couldn't be love, it just couldn't be. It was inconceivable.

What Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had was merely an arrangement, an arrangement for convenience. Nothing more; nothing less.

And they were happy with it, or so it seemed to them. Alone, well that was a different story.

Yes Harry Potter, highly acclaimed Auror and esteemed husband, was carrying on an affair with former Death Eater turned Auror, Draco Malfoy.

For the past eight years both men, one in an unhappy rushed marriage to a girl he no longer loved and the other just trying to salvage what's left of his besmirched family name, kept up this torrid and clandestine affair.

Originally, it had started out as getting drinks at a pub, an attempt to try their hand at friendship or something relatively close to it, what started out as innocent meets up turned into drunken snogging and a few quick fucks every now and then.

In time it developed into an intense mutual need for one another, it was effortless, and it felt right.

One thing was clear from the beginning though: It meant nothing.

Such as it was, tonight found Harry seated at a corner booth in a dimly lit, out-of-the-way muggle pub, waiting for Draco.

Usually they met exactly at eight o'clock, give or take a few minutes, but Draco was more than twenty minutes late and Harry thought wildly what if Draco decided not to come.

He'd already cast three temporary charms to keep the ice in Draco's scotch from melting knowing the man detested watered down scotch.

If anything Draco's absence gave him some time to mull things over between them. Lately, he'd found that he looked forward to seeing Draco more and more, that lately he'd even been considering leaving Ginny for him.

This arrangement was driving him crazy, but Draco had made it very clear from the start.

This is not love.

He hated lying to himself but what could he do? It takes two to tango and if the other wasn't in love back then it's all for naught.

His head ached and if Draco wasn't going to show up he might as well drink himself stupid.

As the clock on the wall hit the half hour mark he decided that Draco wasn't coming and got up to pull his coat on.

As he was just about to put a little muggle money on the table to pay for his empty drinks and the one that sat unconsumed the bell above the door jingled and Harry turned and saw Draco heading toward him.

"Potter, where are you going?" Draco asked.

"I thought I had an arrangement with a certain blond man but he hasn't shown up yet, have you seen him?"

"I think I saw the very attractive blond man you are referring to, he got caught up with some unexpected paperwork back at the Ministry and could not put it off for another time."

"I never said attractive," Harry huffed indignantly.

"Piss off, Potter," Draco spat.

Harry scoffed and continued getting ready to leave; he was in no mood to deal with Draco tonight, and that might have just been the booze doing the thinking for him.

"Harry, wait," Draco put his hand on Harry's arm to stop him.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. Draco had an irritating habit of knowing exactly what to say or where to touch to make Harry his.

And Harry had an equally irritating habit of letting Draco do that to him, and Draco knew this.

Harry stood motionless while his companion drew his coat off and deposited it in booth; he clenched his fists when Draco deliberately ran his fingertips down Harry's arms.

Draco sat down and Harry followed suit, the tension was thick between them.

Draco watched Harry through slightly narrowed eyes but as their silence grew his gaze softened. "Say something Potter."

"Why don't you?" Harry threw back at him.

Draco sighed and downed the glass of scotch in one swig, "What's got your knickers in a twist tonight?"

"Nothing," Harry grunted. He wished he'd ordered another glass or three of whiskey to deal with Draco and his snide remarks. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to handle Draco and he thought quickly and for the thousandth time why did he put up with him at all.

He must be a masochist.

"Excellent elocution, Potter." Draco knew why Harry was pissed off though; he didn't need to ask him. Perhaps baiting him was a bad idea.

Harry gripped one of the empty glasses so tightly that his knuckles turned white and said nothing.

Draco noticed that and brought his own hand up an over Harry's on the glass, "You'll break that glass you know."

In response Harry squeezed the glass even harder until his hand trembled.

Draco swallowed his pride, "Harry, I'm sorry I was late, but I was buried in paperwork and I didn't have a chance to get a message to you."

Harry let go of the glass and swatted Draco's hand away. "Doesn't matter Malfoy, let's just do what we get together to do so I can go home and hate my life and pretend I'm a happily married man."

"You know just what to say to get a bloke in the mood Potter," snapped Draco sarcastically.

Whilst Harry sulked across from him, Draco took advantage and ordered a few more drinks to match Harry in drunkenness; he was going to need it if Harry was going to be like this tonight.

When both men were sufficiently hammered enough to be in each other's presence without the thick tension Draco made the first move and slid close to Harry in the booth. "Are you still mad at me?" he purred into his ear and curled around him like a cat.

"Depends," Harry answered, "Make it up to me?"

"How should I do that?" Draco placed light open-mouthed kisses on Harry's cheek and ran his hand down his chest. His hand continued it's southbound journey toward his most intimate area wherein he gave him a hard squeeze.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," came Harry's reply.

"Just say the word, Harry," Draco kept up his touching on Harry's clothes erection.

"I want you to make love to me," Harry said, his speech was slurred and his brain was so addled from the alcohol that he hadn't realized what he'd said.

"Making love" was one of those phrases that Draco expressly prohibited within their affair. Nothing about this was love.

Draco decided to ignore it, "Okay Potter."

They disentangled from each other and left the pub, clinging to one another so neither would fall.

Draco apparated them to their normal motel, a small, privately owned inn that had a reputation for being a place for men and women to conduct covert affairs.

The innkeeper handed over the key to their room, the same one every time and both men made their way there, both horny, hard, and too inebriated for their own good.

Draco pulled Harry into the room quickly and locked the door behind them and the lights went down and the clothes came off.

A/N: Been a while since I've written any Harry/Draco. I thought I'd gotten a bit rusty; tell me what you think. (Obviously I'm going to continue)