Drarry One Shots

Following Our Hearts

A/N I don't know if this is appropriate or not but this is my tribute... /*

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Draco raised his hand to knock on the open door of his office door. It might have been strange under any other circumstance but when the newly appointed Minister for Magic was standing in your office, well, it seemed appropriate. However, he didn't knock, not quite then. Instead, he paused momentarily before announcing his presence and he took the time to study the man's back as he stood at the window overlooking the grounds down to the Quidditch pitch. He looked so solitary like that. It made Draco feel positively wistful.

It seemed that over the past twenty-six years, Harry Potter had learnt to close himself off. Draco supposed war and all the years since in the Ministry, first as an Auror, then Head of the DMLE, now Minister, did that to a person. All that politics. That and a messy, public divorce and an unhealthy public interest in every breath the hero took, for he remained a hero, even so long after the war. So now... now it was difficult to read the man who always presented an open demeanour to the public and the Press and at all those functions but never actually let his true feelings show.

However, that was the thing about the two of them; he was Draco Malfoy, a man who'd spent most of his lifetime studying Harry Potter and goading him just to get a reaction out of him. There was less goading these days, maybe because they were almost friendly, of sorts. More than just acquaintances since the war but certainly no more. Harry didn't let people get close, with perhaps the exception of Minerva McGonagall. All the staff at the school were aware how much Minerva still mentored Harry, how much he visited her, but no one ever said anything.

Despite Harry holding everyone at arm's length and the refusal to let anyone close, Draco wondered when it had become so intuitive for him to understand what Harry was feeling. It wasn't the same as during their schooldays, that was a different sort of reading. Back then, Harry had worn his heart on his sleeve, his emotions were so visible and so easy to twist and rile to Draco's own advantage. Of course, that was precisely the reason his father had bred compartmentalising into Draco, to stop him from becoming open to manipulation. These days it was the line of Harry's broad shoulders that told Draco everything he needed to know. And as Harry wasn't wearing a jacket currently, just yesterday's shirt and trousers, both slightly rumpled, it was that much easier to see Harry was reeling from fatigue and numbness and utter disbelief. Mind you, Draco wasn't sure he could believe it was true either. Not when they all thought she would just go on forever.

He wished he could just cross the room and pull Harry into his arms. But there remained an abyss between the two of them that Draco didn't know how to cross, no matter how much he yearned to.

He knocked then but didn't wait for an answer. 'Minister Potter?' Draco walked around the desk to stand beside him so he too looked out over the Quidditch pitch. He always loved this office, just for the view alone. 'Can I get you anything?'

Harry turned to face Draco and looked at him briefly, his expression unreadable, before he said, 'for fucks sake, Draco, call me Harry... now is not the time for all that crap.' His voice sounded too dry and raspy from grief, his startling green eyes looked hollow and dull.

'I... yes,' Draco said. The familiarity was unprecedented. He glanced at salt-and-pepper unruly hair and wished things were more at ease between them

Harry said, 'I don't know what to do with myself.' He turned back to the view from the window.

'Can I get you a drink?' Draco asked.

Harry shook his head without turning around, clearly unable to find his words. 'I suppose it's too early for a Firewhisky.'