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Harry Potter and the Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant

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Harry Potter was A Very Famous Person.

On top of that, he was a Very Busy Famous Person, and had about three fairly mild mental breakdowns due to sheer stress, before he succumbed to Hermione's nagging, and advertised for a personal assistant.

"Because your life is crazy," Ron had said. "And no. I won't be your personal assistant, it's insane enough being your best friend."

On the day of the interviews, the lines to the Rhesus Pheezus Conference Room at the Ministry of Magic were long and noisy, hundreds of hopeful (mostly) witches and wizards clutching their parchment of qualifications.

Anyone who said Mr. Potter I am your biggest fan had their applications automatically relegated to the No Bloody Way pile by a scowling Ron, who had developed a very good scowl over the years.

"It's quite frightening," one candidate had said to the others with a trembling voice as she slid out of the conference room. "His hair is very red, you know, and then he just scowls at you. I cried, a little."

"Stop making them cry," Harry had warned Ron in a tired voice, thumping his forehead on the shiny surface of the long table. "If they cry, then I'm going to feel bad. And feeling bad makes me hungry."

"Breathing makes you hungry, Harry," Hermione said absently, arranging the applications alphabetically. "You eat like a hippogriff. Next!"

Ron frowned with all his wrinkled-brow skill at the next applicant to step inside, but this applicant simply raised an eyebrow before settling gracefully in the chair at the end of the table.

Harry raised his head and blinked. "Malfoy?"

"The one and only," Draco Malfoy said and sent his application parchment floating smoothly over to Hermione, who caught it and flipped it open, looking impressed as she read.

"Er. Why would you want to be my personal assistant?"

"I need a job." Malfoy's eyes were guarded, but not overly hostile. "And I'm good at personal assisting."

"I've always thought that you'd be the type to need a personal assistant," Ron sniffed and then tried out his scowl again.

Malfoy scowled right back, and against his will, Harry mentally gave him a point. Ron had about 175 scowling points, but that one from Malfoy was pretty good. "You think what you like, Weasley, even though I'm fairly sure thinking isn't much of an activity for you."

"You'd have to deal with a lot of screaming fans," Hermione pointed out.

"I know a good charm that silences Banshees," Malfoy said confidently. "Screaming fans have nothing on me."

"And Harry is socially inept to the point of painful inelegance--"

"Hey!"

"--so you'll have to guide him through the trappings of Ministry gatherings," Hermione finished, ignoring Harry's scowl. He gave himself a scowl-point, just for that.

"Malfoys are trained socialites," Malfoy said with a surprisingly sweet grin, even though his eyes glinted slyly.

"And... well, basically, not let him have another nervous breakdown," Ron said, giving up on the scowling. Malfoy looked taken aback at this; he gave Harry a deeply puzzled look, as if seeing him in a new light.

"Just don't kill him," Hermione warned. "Or we'll kill you. We need him around."

"I'm on probation from the Ministry," Malfoy sneered, looking entirely like himself again. Harry was almost ecstatic to see this, that nice smile from a few moments ago had thrown him completely. "Sure, I'll definitely land myself in Azkaban with a life-sentence by assassinating the Boy Hero here. Give me some credit, Granger."

"He's hired," Hermione said briskly.

"Wait, what?" Harry gazed at her bemusedly and Hermione shrugged.

"Apart from us," here, she motioned to herself and Ron, "he's one of the few persons who will never fawn over you. You know you hate the fawning."

"And fawns, but I don't know what you have against baby deer," Ron put in.

"Their suspicious cuteness," Harry grumbled. "And yes, I do hate the fawning."

"And he can tell you when you're being stupid," Hermione pointed out.

"I think that will be my very favourite part," Malfoy said wistfully. "You're stupid, Potter."

"Right," Harry said dryly and then sighed. "Fine, he's hired. But I'm sure I'll have another breakdown just through him."

"You won't," Malfoy promised with a snide curl of his thin lips. "I, Draco Malfoy, vow to make your life an easier place to be. Even though you're in it anyway, and you've driven yourself crazy by simply existing."

"Oh for Merlin's sake." Harry thumped his head on the table again, even as Malfoy rose to his feet and sailed to the entry door, pulling it open to bellow, "You lot go home! I'm hired! Get away now, you're all worthless."

"You know, I've never liked him," Ron mused, "but he has quite a good bellow."

"If you kill me, I'll fire you," Harry threatened and Draco Malfoy laughed at him.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was incredibly organized.

"It's because I'm positively brilliant at multi-tasking," he informed Potter smugly, as he began to manage the Wizarding Hero's life with a tenacity envied by five-star generals. "I had my own wing of the Malfoy Manor to manage one summer when I was eight."

"Don't mention your bloody Manor to me," Harry had snapped at him, and Draco gave him a very long and unreadable look before nodding almost jerkily.

"Fair enough, Potter."

Draco Malfoy was also nicknamed the Brick Wall, successfully blocking all those shady causes that longed to get their greedy little fingers on Harry Potter's considerable wealth.

For example:

Dear Mr. Potter,

The Young Thestral Viewers Association is dedicated to the uplifting and sustaining of those youth who can see thestrals. As you well know, thestrals can only be perceived by those who have unfortunately viewed Death. We petition you for a most sizable contribution, as most of our young ones can now see thestrals as a result of a War that had unfortunately been perpetuated by certain activities of yours.

We await your patronage.
Gravius Glutenu
Head, the YTVA.

-

Dear Mr. Glutenu,

How can I put this concisely?

Ah yes: No.

Oh, and kindly allow me to elaborate: Your association is not listed in the Chartered Association of Charitable Organizations, and so your petition is an offence under Section 5.a of the Heroes Protection Act, which states that no Wizarding Hero is to be petitioned by any unregistered body for contributions. Said petitions would be considered as acts of bribery and carry fines of 40,000 galleons, ten months imprisonment, or both.

Please note that copies of your letter and this response have both been rapid-Owl forwarded to the Fraud Division of the Aurors and Mr. Potter's lawyers.

Sincerely,
Draco Titan Malfoy
Existence Administrator for Mr. Harry Potter.

"Hang on," Harry had said when he saw this missive. "There's no Heroes Protection Act."

"No?" Draco took the parchment from Harry, folded it quickly and stamped it with a seal that Harry had never seen before, even though it looked quite official and bore Harry's full name, with a dragon curled protectively around the text.

Harry frowned. "And... I don't think there's a fine."

"Imagine that." Draco motioned to the owl that was perching on the coat-rack just outside Harry's so-called home office on the second floor of Grimmauld Place. He gave the sealed parchment to the owl with a soft murmur and waved at it as it flew out the window. "Lunchtime, yes?"

"And I'm pretty sure I don't have lawyers."

"Well, they don't know that, do they?" Draco snapped and gave him a very sour glare. "I wager that you'll never hear from them again. That is what you pay me for, and I'll bloody well get them off your case the best way I can, is that understood?"

"You mean the Slytherin way." Harry had been glaring right back at him, but there was something amused and fond in his eyes. "Fine, fine, I understand. Carry on, Existence Administrator."

He'd gone out, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips; Draco took a few moments to tell himself that he was a brilliant multi-tasker.

"I," he said aloud, "am so multi-tasked, things get done before I'm even fully aware of them."

He also told himself that he was quite the professional.

"I'm the best Personal Assistant this side of the Channel."

And that he wasn't starting to really like his boss.

"I hated him in school. We were on opposite sides," he stated firmly to the empty room. "Doesn't matter if he's totally different from what I assumed and that he saved my life, I still think he's stupid. He's... he's far too benevolent, I'm sure it's just an act."

(Well, Harry Potter was kind to a fault, which was why he needed someone like Draco to rein him in and save his money. Black money, actually, which was technically Draco's money and he was earning it back, thank you very much. Point was, Potter liked to give it away, probably just to irk Draco, and that was just not on.)

"And too narrow-minded."

(For Potter had the unfortunate Gryffindorish habit of venturing where angels feared to tread, focused so intensely on helping that he forgot to take care of himself. More than a few times, Draco had to force-feed the prat or make him drink something.)

"And much too fit for his own good!"

(Hmm. There... there was no defense for that sentence, not really.)

"I," Draco said in a tone of doom, "am completely screwed."

*

And so Draco continued to be Potter's Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant.

That's the way Potter said it, in any case: "Please give it to my Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant--"

"Existence Administrator," Draco would hiss if he was in earshot.

"--and it will get processed for my attention as soon as possible."

Draco was the one who organized Harry's Christmas parties.

"I'm having a Christmas party?" Harry would say in confusion as decorations flew around him. In any case, they were very brilliant parties, and everyone's favourite game was Dirty Santa.

Dirty Santa at Harry's parties was played as such:

1. Draco took a gift out of the large red Santa-bag for his turn.
2. When Ron's turn came, he had a choice: choose from the bag or take someone's gift from them. Ron chose to take Draco's gift, just to see him fume.
3. Draco had to go and choose a gift again. He would probably take Harry's.
3a. Harry might take Hermione's.
3b. Hermione would take Ron's.
3c. Ron took Draco's.
4. Draco fumed.

And so on.

Draco was the one who remembered Birthdays and Other Important Occasions.

"Thank you for the anniversary gift," Ginny told Harry one day when she saw him in Diagon Alley, her eyes shining. "Dean and I are enjoying it a lot!"

"It was completely my pleasure, Gin," Harry had said with a gracious smile, for by now he was quite used to Draco purchasing all the gifts and would simply ask Draco when he next saw him: "What the hell did you buy?"

When Harry was at a function, his Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant was stationed at his elbow, murmuring the names of all the political figureheads as they approached, and some anecdote about them. Everyone noticed how Harry had blossomed from a boy who would be nearly hiding behind the curtains to a young man who was smartly attentive to nearly everyone and delightfully in tune with Wizarding pomp and pageantry.

Draco was the one who dressed Harry for his very first date with another man.

"Not that one," he had said without looking up as Harry stomped inside the cozy home-office at Grimmauld Place. "And not the green robes either."

"How about these?"

"Heavens, no."

"But you haven't even looked!"

"I can hear the fail."

"Fine... these?"

Draco had finally deigned to raise his head and consider Harry's gorgeous maroon robes with a slight frown; they fit him wonderfully, and he looked amazing.

"You'll do," he finally said grudgingly. "Have fun."

And even though Harry knew nothing about it, Draco was the one who threatened Harry's dates, male or female, and made them sign nondisclosure agreements.

"If I see one word in the papers of any time you spent in his presence," Draco would say in a Floo-call with a nasty sneer, "then rest assured that I will dig up every secret you never wanted to come to light, and display your embarrassment for the entire world to see. This is not an empty threat. I already have four of these at the ready... I see, you don't believe me. Well, how about the incident with that Crup three years ago? ...lovely, thank you for your cooperation."

Harry had taken to saying in disbelief: "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd need Draco in my life."

While Ron made faces and Hermione smiled indulgently, Draco felt simultaneously delighted and annoyed at this statement.

*

It was probably inevitable that Harry Potter's Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant would be kidnapped one day, on his way to existence managing, no less.

"How much do we ask for?" Draco heard one of his captors say shakily as they flung him to the dirty floor of a room Draco was unable to see, since his eyes were covered. His hands were bound behind his back, but he could feel the gritty surface against his skin when he was rolled over. "A million Galleons?"

"I'm worth a lot more than that," Draco said haughtily, but since his mouth was covered, all that came out was, "Mm mm mm mmm mm mm mmck."

"Maybe Potter would send more, I'm sure of it," another one mused. "After all, what wouldn't ye do for your lover?"

"What?!" Draco tried to yell. "I'm his Existence Manager!"

Of course, because Harry was now completely addicted to having an organized life (and he wasn't sure where he was supposed to be on a Tuesday morning, since Draco had his agenda tucked in some pocket of his robes), he had followed the tracking charm placed on all his close acquaintances and burst in most heroically.

Actually, Draco couldn't see anything at all, so he assumed some kind of heroics was involved. It was Harry, after all.

There was quite a bit of yelling, and a few curses zinged past Draco's nose, smelling like burnt hair, and then he heard Harry shouting his name.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he heard Harry breathe, and he was helped into a sitting position, his hands untied rapidly. The cloth was carefully removed from his eyes and he blinked at Harry's worried expression.

"You're going to be so late for your ten-fifteen meeting with the Minister, you silly man. You could have rescued me after," Draco was about to say in his most scolding tone, but Harry was actually kissing him. Goodness; and it was a very nice kiss, intense and searching and devouring... and very Harry. Draco gaped as he pulled away, watching in shock as Harry's cheeks went red.

"What do I have now?" Harry said, still blushing but smiling at Draco as he helped him to his feet.

"Ten-fifteen. Meeting with Minister," Draco had managed faintly.

"Come on." Harry's hand was around his waist protectively. "I need you."

"Yes," Draco said in a dreamy, breathy voice that would have Harry snickering for years to come at just the recollection of it, "That's because I'm your Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant."

"Oh, I'm afraid you're more than that, Existence Administrator of mine," Harry said, and held Draco closer, smiling all the way. "So much more than that."

fin