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Mar. 9th, 2009 11:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vickyduckyHarry Potter really loathed this rotation of his Auror training. The Parolees were surly and uncooperative, or else they were fawning and overly helpful, which he disliked even more. And then there were special cases, which were particularly painful to deal with. He picked up the next file with a sinking heart. The gods had surely been laughing when they'd given him...
"Draco Malfoy," he called.
Malfoy sauntered in and took the seat on the other side of Harry's desk. He looked, Harry thought, entirely at his ease. Which contrasted sharply with Harry's own state of inner perturbation.
"Have your circumstances altered since our last meeting?" Harry asked, falling back on standard procedure.
Malfoy picked an invisible speck from his robes, before answering,"No."
"So, you haven't found a job yet? Are you even trying?" Harry found Malfoy's cool stare unendurable. "Look, Malfoy," he said impatiently,"it makes no odds to me, but if you don't get what the Ministry considers 'suitable employment' in the next few weeks, they'll ship you straight back to Azkaban to finish your sentence."
Malfoy glared at him, and Harry was pleased to have provoked this much response, at least.
"Of course I've tried," Malfoy admitted angrily. "I'm well aware of the terms of my parole! Do you imagine that there is a queue of people all desperate to employ me? Because I can assure there isn't. I've no NEWTS..."
"Neither have I," Harry interrupted him. He watched, fascinated, as Malfoy struggled to keep himself under control.
"Do you honestly think," he finally managed to say through gritted teeth,"that an application from Harry Potter is subject to the same rules as those from lesser mortals? Let alone if your name is Malfoy."
Harry felt a bit guilty for goading him. "All right," he said. "I can see it isn't easy for you, but there must be something you can do." He reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a newspaper. "This is Thursday's Prophet. Maybe there's something in the sit's vac'." He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he wanted, then smoothed the 'paper open on his desk. "Okay, let's see. Admin assistant. You could do that. Oh, no, they want NEWT level Arithmancy. Why on earth do you need NEWT level Arithmancy to be an Admin Assistant at St Mungo's? Hm, experienced baker, no; children's nurse, no; exotic dancer..."
"Oh, yes, I'd love to be a stripper," Malfoy drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, I'd pay to see you," Harry muttered as he continued to pore over the Prophet.
Malfoy sat up straight, looking very much like the cat who had just caught the canary. "Is that so?" he mused, delightedly. "Really, Potter, I had no idea you had such designs on me."
Harry froze, in horror, then looked up, his eyes wide. Either he'd spoken much more loudly than he'd intended, or Malfoy had exceptionally good hearing. Either way, this was not good, at all.
"You're blushing," Malfoy smirked.
Harry didn't need to be told this, he could feel his face flaming. What on earth was he going to do?
Malfoy leaned forward, across Harry's desk. "If you take me to dinner, somewhere nice, I'll give you a private show," he said softly.
Harry gulped. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "It was only a joke. It would be completely unprofessional, we couldn't possibly..." his voice trailed away as he thought, wildly, why not though? He'd had this impossible, inappropriate crush on Malfoy for so long now, that he could barely remember life without it. This was almost certainly the only opportunity he would ever have for a date with Malfoy. And possibly even more than that, if Malfoy kept his side of the bargain. If he chickened out of this now, he knew he'd be kicking himself for ever. And really, he rationalised, it was only wrong if he was Malfoy's parole liason. He'd just have to declare a conflict of interest and hand Malfoy's case onto someone else. Win, win, really. He wondered what Malfoy considered 'somewhere nice' and decided to go for broke.
"How about Crane Freres?" he asked, as casually as he could manage.
Malfoy looked taken aback. He clearly hadn't expected Harry to call his bluff. He quickly hid his surprise and smirked, knowingly. "Crane Freres, on Ostentatious Alley? Goodness, Potter, you must want me very badly. Very well. When were you thinking of?"
Harry was blushing again, but managed to hold Malfoy's gaze as he replied. "I believe that there's about a month's waiting list for a table. Even for Harry Potter, " he said, anticipating Malfoy's taunt. "So we'd better make sure we find you a job."
"Draco Malfoy," he called.
Malfoy sauntered in and took the seat on the other side of Harry's desk. He looked, Harry thought, entirely at his ease. Which contrasted sharply with Harry's own state of inner perturbation.
"Have your circumstances altered since our last meeting?" Harry asked, falling back on standard procedure.
Malfoy picked an invisible speck from his robes, before answering,"No."
"So, you haven't found a job yet? Are you even trying?" Harry found Malfoy's cool stare unendurable. "Look, Malfoy," he said impatiently,"it makes no odds to me, but if you don't get what the Ministry considers 'suitable employment' in the next few weeks, they'll ship you straight back to Azkaban to finish your sentence."
Malfoy glared at him, and Harry was pleased to have provoked this much response, at least.
"Of course I've tried," Malfoy admitted angrily. "I'm well aware of the terms of my parole! Do you imagine that there is a queue of people all desperate to employ me? Because I can assure there isn't. I've no NEWTS..."
"Neither have I," Harry interrupted him. He watched, fascinated, as Malfoy struggled to keep himself under control.
"Do you honestly think," he finally managed to say through gritted teeth,"that an application from Harry Potter is subject to the same rules as those from lesser mortals? Let alone if your name is Malfoy."
Harry felt a bit guilty for goading him. "All right," he said. "I can see it isn't easy for you, but there must be something you can do." He reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a newspaper. "This is Thursday's Prophet. Maybe there's something in the sit's vac'." He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he wanted, then smoothed the 'paper open on his desk. "Okay, let's see. Admin assistant. You could do that. Oh, no, they want NEWT level Arithmancy. Why on earth do you need NEWT level Arithmancy to be an Admin Assistant at St Mungo's? Hm, experienced baker, no; children's nurse, no; exotic dancer..."
"Oh, yes, I'd love to be a stripper," Malfoy drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, I'd pay to see you," Harry muttered as he continued to pore over the Prophet.
Malfoy sat up straight, looking very much like the cat who had just caught the canary. "Is that so?" he mused, delightedly. "Really, Potter, I had no idea you had such designs on me."
Harry froze, in horror, then looked up, his eyes wide. Either he'd spoken much more loudly than he'd intended, or Malfoy had exceptionally good hearing. Either way, this was not good, at all.
"You're blushing," Malfoy smirked.
Harry didn't need to be told this, he could feel his face flaming. What on earth was he going to do?
Malfoy leaned forward, across Harry's desk. "If you take me to dinner, somewhere nice, I'll give you a private show," he said softly.
Harry gulped. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "It was only a joke. It would be completely unprofessional, we couldn't possibly..." his voice trailed away as he thought, wildly, why not though? He'd had this impossible, inappropriate crush on Malfoy for so long now, that he could barely remember life without it. This was almost certainly the only opportunity he would ever have for a date with Malfoy. And possibly even more than that, if Malfoy kept his side of the bargain. If he chickened out of this now, he knew he'd be kicking himself for ever. And really, he rationalised, it was only wrong if he was Malfoy's parole liason. He'd just have to declare a conflict of interest and hand Malfoy's case onto someone else. Win, win, really. He wondered what Malfoy considered 'somewhere nice' and decided to go for broke.
"How about Crane Freres?" he asked, as casually as he could manage.
Malfoy looked taken aback. He clearly hadn't expected Harry to call his bluff. He quickly hid his surprise and smirked, knowingly. "Crane Freres, on Ostentatious Alley? Goodness, Potter, you must want me very badly. Very well. When were you thinking of?"
Harry was blushing again, but managed to hold Malfoy's gaze as he replied. "I believe that there's about a month's waiting list for a table. Even for Harry Potter, " he said, anticipating Malfoy's taunt. "So we'd better make sure we find you a job."
