The Boy Who Lived

A Day of Errant Magic

Harry heaved himself out of bed and went for his morning run, trying to expel frustration, worry, and tiredness from his restless body. Merlin! He needed it this morning.

He'd barely slept, focusing instead on his breathing, counting each inhalation and exhalation slowly and carefully, and trying to block the feeling of Draco nestled against him; his fingers unconsciously skimming across his body; the graze of his nipple; the brush of his lips against Harry's skin. Merlin, he was convinced Draco had experimentally teased him with his tongue. And when he ran his hand down Harry's back, over his ribs, tormenting his skin with tentative fingers which dipped beneath the elastic of his waistband before reaching his hip... he could have so easily hooked a finger under Draco's chin and lifted his beautiful mouth towards his but Harry knew the man was half-asleep; his movements were barely in his conscience. Still, it left him with a predicament, a rather hard one at that. Thankfully Draco didn't notice.

But this was a dangerous game to be playing and he was not sure how, or even if, he could extricate himself from the situation. There were times, like the previous night, when Draco appeared to need Harry. He wondered what Draco did before, before Harry was there to wake him from the terrors that gripped him during the night, before he was there to hold him until his breathing calmed and his nerves settled. He knew they should talk about this but neither of them seemed willing to broach the subject. Instead, they continued their weird sort of domesticity, going to their separate works, bringing up Teddy together, sharing the chores, ignoring the fucking-huge white erumpent in the room. The longer it went on, the harder it was to talk about what's happening. Harry wondered how things going to change if Pansy accepted the invite to move in too.

Instead of trying to answer the questions, Harry just went running...

Running on Tuesday mornings was always a necessity anyway but that morning Harry needed it more than ever and the run neared two hours. Tuesdays, as always, promised a day ahead of meetings at all levels in which it became harder and harder not to dispel the excess magic through trickle methods. Although he could use the most mundane of actions such as stirring his coffee wandlessly to help himself, he needed more and sitting in meeting room after meeting room did not work for him. Harry sighed as he donned his more formal Auror robes in preparation for the day and left for the office with Hercules trotting along to heel beside him.

Pansy was already at the desk outside Harry's office, going through a pile of paperwork and filing some of it in the open drawer beside her. Otherwise, her desk was spotless, neatly organised with her stationary and a small Puffapod plant next to a tray for incoming departmental memos and the memo pad for sending out. Harry could see several of the Aurors already eyeing her suspiciously so he gave a loud cheery 'morning, Pansy,' as he walked past.

'Ah, Mr Pot...'

'No!' he stopped in his tracks. 'You call me "Harry", or "Potter" if you have to, but not "Mr Potter".' He dropped his voice so the spectators couldn't hear, 'and certainly not, "Lord" or "Your Grace" or "sir" or some other hoity-toity shite unless you want to know how good I am at a wandless Tickling Hex... my heritage remains between you, me, and Mione for as long as possible.' He grinned and pushed open his office door. He was instantly greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and spied a proper mug, rather than the usual plastic disposable crap, of steaming black coffee on his desk.

He took a step backwards and looked into Pansy's slightly worried eyes, 'and thank you for the coffee, you're a star.'

'It's I who should be thanking you...'

'Nonsense. I get the feeling things are going to work out just fine...'

He heard Pansy mutter, 'it couldn't be any bloody worse than it was,' as he walked into his office and flung his long coat towards the hooks.