Fourteen Thousand Galleons

It's Going to Be a Wonderful Day

He struggles to watch her leave through the floo every night. He knows she has to leave, knows there have to be clear boundaries, but fuck. Draco hates watching her go. They've been flirting more, little touches here and there when the kids aren't looking. He's pulled that bottom lip from between her teeth so many times it's practically his habit more than hers. Every night after she leaves, he has to take a moment to collect himself before settling into his routine with Scorpius. Just a moment where he sags against the wall and comes to terms with how quickly, how fully, how unequivocally, he's falling in love with her.

He refuses to tell her. Refuses to tell Harry, even. Despite every knowing, ridiculous glance that Boy Wonder tosses in his direction while sitting on the sofa or eating dinner or lying in bed. At this point, Draco is refusing to give him the satisfaction of an I Told You So.

But, Merlin, he's fallen so hard and so fast for the little muggleborn witch.

"Mister Malfoy." Padma knocks his door open with a rap of her knuckles and waits for him to acknowledge her. She peeks her head inside, a brilliant smile on her face. "Good morning. You're looking particularly peaky today. Again."

"You're a right peach, Padma, you know that?" The words are light, playful even, as she sits atop the corner of his desk with her dark legs poking out the bottom of a strategic pencil skirt. He grins at her, a slight shake of his head prefacing his words. "Of course you do."

Padma bats her eyelashes in an elaborate, pouty way that draws a chuckle out from him.

"You have a letter from your father," she shuffles through the scrolls of parchment in her hands and tosses things onto his desk. "A letter from your mother. Harry Potter again – I still can't get over that you two are friends – and there's something here from, oh!"

Padma jumps off the desk and bounces in place. She holds it up for Draco to see the fancy cursive script in silver on the front of a black scroll. As she tears open the scroll, he watches. Her eyes dart around the letter, slowly widening as she takes in the words. Her lips move along with the script and he hears random bursts from her – 'gala', 'charity', 'New Year's Eve'.

"Oh, I assumed I wouldn't be invited!" Padma gushes, placing the letter over her heart and grinning. "I haven't been to a fancy dress do in... Merlin, since the Yule Ball and that was a fucking disaster, let me tell you."

Draco remembers. No one was more cross the entire evening than the Patil twins. He actually chuckles and earns a lighthearted glare from her. "Ensure that you bring someone less... sour, then."

She smirks. "Already on it, boss."

"Good." Draco rifles through the letters she's tossed on his desk and sets them aside. "Do you have the funding completed for the Unspeakable project?"

Padma nods. "Submitted to Lucius on Monday."

"Excellent, Patil." Draco quickly scans the note from Harry, catching phrases like 'work late' and 'raid' and 'rather have my hand wrapped around your –'. He doesn't mean to puff out a sharp breath or heat under a blush, but it happens too quickly for him to stop it. "Send word to Potter and tell him we're having lunch today."

"Sir." Padma ducks her head with a secretive smile and glittering eyes and turns around to leave the office. Before the door closes, she calls back to him. "Shall I inform him that you'd also rather have your hand wrapped –"

"That'll be all, Patil," he cuts her off sharply. Her laughter carries through the solid door that separates them. "Fuck."

Only a couple of hours later, Harry appears in his office. Face bright red and hair whipped around his head as if he'd been in a windstorm before entering Draco's office. His lips are pressed into a line and Draco's lips twitch as he approaches the desk.