Draco knew about torture. He had served a snake-faced megalomaniac who was prone to having fits and Crucioing the very wizards who followed him. He'd had to watch his father cast curses against the people he went to school with and on one terrifying occasion, his mother. There were even times when Draco had been called to cast curses himself.
He'd never thought to experience anything like that again, but sitting in a small cabin that may as well have been a broom shed for the all the space it had with Harry sodding Potter was a fresh level of hell.
It wasn't that he hated the git. No, somewhere in the six years that they had been working together in the Auror department, the two of them had formed a friendship. And not just a 'we're partners and often have to save each other's lives' friendship, although that was how it started. They were 'hang out on the weekends and go drinking after work' friends. In fact, they spent so much time together that Draco was sure that at least half of Potter's gaggle of Gryffindors thought they were shagging or on the verge of it.
And therein lay the problem.
They weren't shagging. Not even a little bit. Potter was as gay as Draco, but neither of them had made any move to try and turn their friendship into anything else. Presumably because Potter wasn't interested or just didn't realize and definitely because Draco had only admitted to Pansy how hopelessly attracted he was to the other man. But how could he not be?
Since they'd left school, Potter had acquired a witty sense of humor and an arse that honestly made Draco's mouth water. His hair was the mess it always was, but Potter wore it longer now, falling around his friendly face and obscuring his already awful vision. He was all lean muscle and broad shoulders with an easy grin that did stupid things to Draco's stomach.
Now Potter was leaning against the sill of the lone window in their tiny cabin, eyes trained on the large house beyond it where the suspect in the case they were working on was hiding. This bastard was selling high end brooms at half the price. Unfortunately they had the habit of dropping their riders at the worse moments, and several people, some of them Hogwarts students, had been injured.
It wasn't a terribly high level case, but then, the world was lacking in big evil these days. It was dark in their tiny cabin, but Draco could see how relaxed Potter was; his eyes were locked on the house, but his chin was resting in his hands and his face was peaceful.
Draco was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, his head resting against the wall.
The torture here was two-fold. He was trapped in a bloody small space with the clueless object of his affection, and he was bored out of his mind. Their perpetrator hadn't moved since he'd entered the house two hours ago, and it seemed likely that he wouldn't for the rest of the night.
"This is so boring," Draco groaned.
"Yes, you've said," Potter replied, turning that bright green gaze on him. Draco read a mixture of amusement and exasperation there and he sighed dramatically. He didn't know how his partner managed to be so unruffled. Ever since they'd left school, the prat had become the picture of calm. That's why Draco needled him so much, even now. He liked that he was still able to make Potter react, and it was better now that it wasn't laced with malice.
Draco found himself reflecting on something Pansy had said to him the last time he was whining...er...talking about his feelings for his friend.
I don't know why you expect Potter to fall in you lap, she'd said dryly. He's never been all that observant and you're clearly being too subtle. Just tell him how you feel, or flirt with him or something!
It was the perfect opportunity, really. Neither of them could go anywhere, and if he could get Potter to focus and listen to him, perhaps something good could come of this dull assignment. He cleared his throat and decided to give it a go.
"You know, there are so many more...interesting things we could be doing right now," he tried.
Potter, predictably, did not look away from the window. "Mhmm."
"I'm serious, Potter!"
His tone must have alerted the other man that something serious was happening because Potter furrowed his brow and turned to look at him again. "I know you are," he replied. "You usually are when you're complaining about wanting to do something else. There's just that little matter of us needing to do our job. You know, watching the house? Making sure this guy doesn't run?"
"He hasn't moved in hours."
"He's probably sleeping. Like I'm about to be in a few minutes."
Potter chuckled and shook his head. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"And you're no fun at all," Draco retorted.
"Sure. That's why you spend so much time with me. Because I'm dull and uninspired."
Draco grinned in spite of himself and rolled his eyes. "I keep hoping some of my natural interestingness will rub off on you."
"I'm pretty sure that's not even a word, Malfoy."
"You're missing the point, Scarhead."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you had one," Potter fired back, imitating Draco's usual drawl.
"I hate you," Draco muttered.
The grin Potter quirked at him was brilliant. "No, you don't."
"No..." the reply was soft. "I don't."
Potter tilted his head and looked at Draco bemusedly. "You're a strange one, Draco Malfoy. Just find some way to entertain yourself, yeah?"
Well now there was an idea. "Fine. I suppose we can do interesting things right here." Draco got to his feet gracefully and walked over to lean against the wall next to the window.
"What?" Potter asked.
Draco moved closer, invading Potter's personal space just a bit. "You heard me."
Those green eyes widened, and Potter swallowed. Draco tracked the movement of his Adam's apple with sharp grey eyes. He was able to see the man more clearly in the dark cabin now that they were both in front of the window. His gaze darted back up to Potter's and what he saw there gave him hope.
"Yeah," Potter was saying. "I did. I'm just confused."
"When are you not?" Draco replied, eyes never leaving those of his partner. "Now be quiet; you're killing the mood."
"Er...what mood exactly?"
Draco huffed. "Shh." He fisted his hand in the fabric of Potter's shirt and tugged him closer, brushing a soft, tentative kiss across his lips. They were warm and soft, and Draco wanted nothing more than to lean in and deepen the kiss. But he didn't know how that would be taken, so he pulled back, released Potter's shirt, and bit his lip.
Potter's eyes were practically popping out of his head at this point as he stared at his friend. "Malfoy...did you just...kiss me?"
"Because I wanted to. Should I not do it again?" Draco was fidgeting now, wondering if he had made a mistake.
"I...you...what? You wanted to?"
"Merlin, how are you this thick? Yes, Potter. I wanted to kiss you. I won't do it again if it bothered you." He waited for some kind of answer, but it seemed his partner couldn't stop spluttering, the house they were supposed to be watching, forgotten.
"Circe's left tit, Potter, I won't do it again, okay?" Draco sighed, giving up. "Just shut up."
Potter blinked, and his eyes seemed to focus then. "Make me," he said finally, his voice a little hoarse.
"If you want me to shut up," he repeated, clearing his throat and stepping closer. "Make me."
Draco didn't need to be told twice. He leaned closer and kissed Potter again, this time giving into his desire to run his tongue along the other man's bottom lip, suck it into his mouth and nibble on it. He delighted in the gasp that that elicited from Potter, wrapping his arms around those broad shoulders and pressing closer.
This time Harry-because really, it was silly to think of him as anything else at that moment - pulled back first, staring at Draco wondrously. "Wow," he breathed.
"Always so articulate."
Draco blinked. "What?"
"Now who's inarticulate? How long have you wanted to do that?"
"I think," Harry said slowly, "that we have a lot of missed time to make up for. Come here."
"Mmm, but we're supposed to be doing our job," Draco teased, leaning away from Harry just to be contrary.
"He's not going anywhere. Now, come here."
Draco chuckled and obeyed this time, licking at Harry's bottom lip again.
Best. Stakeout. Ever.