Drarry One Shots

Shards of Broken Reflections

A/N This story is inspired by the above four images and a cornucopia of dragon tattoos (again—I'm becoming predictable). The image by @Alekdar, in particular, has been knocking around in my head for a long time. Sometimes, these things take a while to come together 😊.

The events happen in one evening in London. I don't actually specify when beyond it being shortly after Harry is promoted to Head-Auror so probably late 2005 - early 2006-ish. I am aware The Shard wasn't inaugurated until 2012 and The London Eye isn't fully visible from The Shard but artistic licence on both counts...

***

The modern oak door closed behind Harry very gently and with only a whisper of a swish as it softly shut. He removed his heavy Auror boots and left them by the door so they didn't thud clumsily across the acacia-wood floor. It wasn't asked of him but he'd always felt it was a necessity since day one. Besides, he inherently knew it was preferred. He also shucked off his long dirty dragonhide coat and hung it on the back of the door. And then unclipped his wand holster to hang on the separate holster hook next to his coat.

Harry smiled, appreciating the exquisite taste of the office as well as the little details like the soft-close door and the holster hook. Currently, the office was lowly lit, downlights highlighted books, a collection of rare Muggle and Magical artefacts from around the world, some framed photographs, and a couple of trophies arranged on black and wood shelves behind wall-to-wall glass doors down two sides of the room. There was a spotlight on the acacia and black metal desk and neutral lamps at the sofa corners. During the day or summer evenings, light flooded in from the complete glass wall of windows out of the office. Currently, the view was worthy of a photograph: the dusk sky was darkening to a deep violet-blue with streaks of pink peeking between the high-rises of the skyline opposite. Lights in buildings glittered each side the inky Thames river that snaked through scene and out to sea.

Harry immediately felt his shoulders drop. Despite the impression that the room was straight out of magazine marketing shoot, this was a surprisingly safe, intimate space, removed from the Magical World in the middle of the most Muggle part of London imaginable, maybe because of that stunning view. Without waiting for an invitation, he made his way to the oversized black leather sofa that sat opposite the desk. It was U-shaped, set around a glass and blackened wood square coffee table. Artfully arranged on top of the table were various succulent plants in dark grey planters and the ubiquitous box of tissues for clients, along with two heavy glasses and an unopened bottle of still spring water.

'I'll be with you in a sec, Harry,' Draco said, not looking up from where he sat at his desk writing in a leather-bound notebook.

Occasionally Harry wondered how Draco Malfoy had managed to snag this particular office on the twenty-eighth floor of The Shard with its view out across London City and towards Tower Bridge, so beautifully lit up on an evening. It must have been the prime spot and highly sought after. Harry had long since decided it was better not to ask, just in case some surreptitious magic was involved...

Knowing better than to interrupt Draco, he rearranged the cream and grey cushions in the corner of the deep sofa, not wanting to dirty them. He felt filthy, he was filthy; his clothes and skin and hair were covered in mud and Merlin knows what else, but he couldn't do anything about it until he went home. His hurried Scourifing spells during the day no longer cut through the dirt that was visible, let alone the stuff that was ingrained, to the degree that the tattoo he had of a Vietnamese Firedragon snaking down his arm from his bicep to the back of his hand was smeared and half-covered with mud from collecting evidence in the graveyard. And he was fairly certain there was still traces of blood on his skin despite trying to wash it off.