“Pansy!” Draco steps out of the floo, calling out Pansy's name even before his feet hit solid ground. “Where are you? Tell me now so I can kill you in person!” he growls.
“In here, darling!” Pansy calls out, sounding as if nothing was wrong in the world at all.
Following the sound of her voice, Draco takes a left down the hall. “Pansy, please tell me you didn't tell Potter that as his assistant my duties extend to helping him select new formal robes.”
“It’s not unheard of,” she says. “Really Draco, a good assistant’s duties can cover a wide range of tasks.”
“Ugh,” Draco groans as he throws himself into a plush arm chair.
“I know it’s a great burden, but somebody's got to get our dear Minister cleaned up. It’s shameful the way he dresses and you know it.”
“Regardless of Potter’s tragic sense of style, we do not have that kind of relationship,” Draco insists. “I prefer to keep my relationship with my employer strictly business.”
“Keep telling yourself that and maybe you’ll start to believe it.” Pansy huffs as she picks up a nail buffer and begins to shape her nails.
“I’m being serious! This is a terrible idea.”
“Yes, Draco, I’m sure that if you had your way you’d be much more concerned with undressing Potter than with dressing him.”
Draco lifts his chin. “I’ve never said any such thing.”
“You don’t have to say it for it to be true.” Pansy raises one perfectly sculpted brow at him.
“I hope you know that I'll never forgive you for this.”
“I honestly don’t know why you’re so upset,” Pansy says as she continues on her nails. “This sounds like a perfect opportunity to me. Honestly, where are your Slytherin instincts?”
Draco doesn’t even bother to respond. He pushes himself from the chair and turns to leave, merely raising one hand over his shoulder in a half-hearted goodbye as he goes.
He’s due back at the office shortly. His lunch hour is almost over and he has decidedly had enough of Pansy’s games for one day.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“As requested, I’ve made the arrangements for a robe fitting,” Draco says as he looks down at the Minister’s daily itinerary. “The tailor will be here at two o’clock.
“What?” Potter looks up from his desk. “You mean I don’t have to go shopping?”
“Of course not, Potter.” Draco rolls his eyes. “You’re the Minister for Magic. Any self-respecting tailor would come to you.”
Potter’s face lights up. “Oh, well that doesn’t sound so bad. Thank you, Malfoy. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Of course.” Draco looks down at his notes to hide the flush he can feel blooming on his cheeks. Even after working with Potter for nearly a year, he will never get used to being praised by him.
“Hey, I know that everyone thought I was crazy when I chose you as my assistant." Potter grins up at him. "But it’s really worked out hasn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes, it has,” Draco agrees as he closes the door to Potter’s office behind him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When the tailor arrives, Draco ushers him into Potter’s office and makes the proper introductions.
“Minister Potter, this is Mr Trimble.” Draco gestures to the man levitating a large case into the room. “Mr Trimble, I’m sure you know the Minister.”
“Yes, of course. Nice to meet you, Minister Potter.” Trimble ducks his head in a half bow.
“Mr Trimble is one of the finest wizarding tailors available on such short notice. I’m sure he will have something to suit your needs.”
Trimble sets up his case, pulls out the first set of robes, and holds them out for Potter to step into.
“I’ll leave you to it then.”
Satisfied, Draco turns to leave, but Potter calls out after him.
“Malfoy, wait. I thought you’d stay and help. Surely you have an opinion about the latest styles.” He shrugs. “You know I’m clueless about such things.”
“No truer words were spoken,” Draco mutters under his breath.
He watches as Trimble waves his wand, and mutters an incantation that quickly buttons up the front of the burgundy robes Potter is currently wearing. It's a boxy and angular style that does nothing to showcase the Minister's best features.
Draco shakes his head. “No, no, that’s all wrong.” With a few quick strides he is at Potter’s side.
Potter tugs at the collar of the atrocity that Trimble has dressed him in, and Draco slaps away his hand. He turns to Trimble. “This won’t do at all. Please tell me that you have something from this century in that case of yours. Or do I need to call someone else?”
“No Sir, that won’t be necessary.” Trimble waves his wand again and the buttons are undone. The robe is whisked away and returned to his case. “We’ve only just begun. Just a moment, please. I do believe I have something you’ll find more suitable.”
“I should hope so.” Draco cannot stop himself from sneering.
Trimble pulls six more robes from his chest, showing each to Draco and Potter in turn. Potter, of course, defers to Draco. Upon closer inspection, Draco outright refuses two, but allows the others for consideration.
First, Potter is dressed in a navy set of robes with clean, strong lines. Draco stands back for a better view as Potter spins in a circle. It’s not terrible, but ... He shakes his head and the robes are removed.
Potter is once again buttoned-up in a more modern set of charcoal robes. It’s a good fit. The material is a tight weave with subtle pinstripes that are decidedly flattering. Draco takes another moment to admire the view, but there’s still something not quite right. He motions with his hand. Trimble whisks it away and brings out the next choice.
It is a deep emerald green brocade that brings out the colour of Potter’s eyes. It fits with a slight taper that accentuates Potter’s broad shoulders and his other assets. Draco can find no fault with it.
“Yes...” Draco starts. There's an unexpected high pitch to his voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yes, I think this will do nicely. It’s perfect, really. No need to see another. Don’t you agree, Potter?
“Yes," Potter says, with an open smile. "I think it suits the occasion.”
Draco takes a moment to adjust Potter's cufflinks. He tries to retain his calm exterior, tries hard. Really, he deserves an Order of Merlin, First Class, for this. It’s bloody torture, is what it is. And how dare Potter look so good in green. It's all too much, it really is. He can feel his cock stiffening with each bend and twist of Potter’s body.
With a few charms specific to his trade, Trimble perfects the fit and notates Potter’s measurements before removing the robes and packing them away. He hands Draco his card and assures them both that a new custom-made set of formal robes, with the exact specifications discussed, will arrive soon by owl.
Once he’s gone, Potter turns his attention fully on Draco. “Thank you. You turned this nightmare into something simple and almost enjoyable. I really couldn’t do this without you, you know.”
”Of course, Potter.” Draco nods. “I’m just doing my job.”
“You do so much more than that, Draco.” Potter steps closer. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” He reaches out to touch. Draco can feel the heat where Potter’s hand rests on his shoulder.
Potter looks so damn sincere. Draco knows something is changing between them, but he’s not sure what it means.
“I want you to know… I’ve really come to depend on you. You make my life easier.” Potter shakes his head. “No, it’s more than that — you make my life better.”
”What are you trying to say?”
Potter steps even closer, pushing into Draco’s space. “I look forward to seeing you every day. I don’t know how else to put this…” He advances. He places his hands on each side of Draco’s hips, moving closer so that Draco has no choice but to respond in kind, stepping back until his arse hits the edge of Potter’s desk — the Minister for Magic’s desk.
“I see the way you react to me. I may be bollocksing this all, but I can’t help think that you want me as much as I want you.”
He leans in, touches his lips to Draco’s, insistent enough to make his intentions clear, but gentle enough to leave the decision for more to Draco.
Draco reaches out with one hand and grips Potter’s shirt tight as he deepens the kiss. He lets his other hand slide up to Potter’s head, fisting into his soft black hair as one strong, masculine leg pushes between Draco’s thighs with perfect pressure against his still hard cock.
“Want you so much,” Potter mumbles against his lips. “I want to touch you everywhere.”
“Yes, yes." Draco pulls his wand out and sends a locking spell at the office door. Then he divests Potter of his shirt. Finally, he can slide his fingers across Potter's bare chest as Potter works to unbutton both of their trousers.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
Potter kisses him again. “Want me to slow down?”
“Don’t you dare.”
“That’s good. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to do this.” Potter slides his hand into Draco’s pants, and grips his cock.
“Nghhh… Yes, touch me.” Draco groans as he shimmies his slacks down his legs. His hips buck forward into Potter’s tight grip as he strokes him.
“I’ve thought about this. Thought about you, about laying you out on my desk… Doing all manner of filthy things to you until you’re screaming my name.” Potter leans forward and reaches around Draco. He shoves everything out of the way — stacks of papers go flying as he clears a space on his desk.
“Git”, Draco grumbles. “I have to pick those up later and get them sorted.”
Potter pushes Draco back until he’s propped, bare-arsed, against the desk. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he nibbles on Draco’s neck and lets his fingers slide from the base of Draco’s cock up to the tip.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Draco huffs as Potter kisses his way down his chest and stomach until he’s on his knees in front of Draco.
“I want to blow you. Please. Can I suck your cock?” Potter asks, more politely than the situation calls for.
“By all means, don’t let me stop you.” Draco threads his hands in the soft black hair as Potter swallows him down.
Potter grips Draco’s arse, kneading his cheeks as he sucks, fingers slipping between the crack to press against Draco’s hole.
“Fuck… Potter,” Draco moans loudly. One leg still stuck in his trousers, he pushes his hips forward as his prick slides between Potter’s plush lips, into a hot and eager mouth.
A few intense thrusts, and Potter pulls back and looks up at Draco. “Don’t hold back,” he says. “I want to taste you.”
Potter’s mouth moves effortlessly along Draco’s cock as his lips slide down the length of him, swallowing him deeper.
Draco’s spine arches as he comes, spilling down Potter’s throat. He might have made a sound of warning, but he can’t be sure — he's too lost in the feel of Potter’s perfect mouth.
Potter nuzzles and licks at him until it’s too much and Draco is forced to push him away. His over-sensitive cock is unable to stand any more attention.
Potter slowly rises, hands sliding along Draco’s body, touching everywhere he can reach. Once fully upright, he wraps an arm around Draco’s waist and pulls him in for a deep kiss until Draco can taste his own come on his tongue.
After a long moment, Potter breaks the kiss. Nuzzling his neck, he whispers hotly against his ear. “Turn around?”
Draco turns. Feeling loose and pliant, he drapes himself over the desk. His head rests on his arms, with his bare arse on display. “Want me to conjure some lube?” he asks. “You can fuck me if you want.” He glances over his shoulder to gauge Potter’s response.
“Not yet,” Potter says. “I want to do it like this…” He slides his cock between Draco’s legs and shoves forward, his movement stuttered by his pants, caught halfway down his thighs.
Draco squeezes tight around him as Potter fucks his dick between them, sliding against the underside of his balls with each slow thrust.
Potter grips Draco’s hip and tugs at his shirt, pushing it up as high as it will go, fucking between Draco’s thighs with abandon.
“I’m close,” he groans. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good.” After only a couple more thrusts of his hips, he pulls back. Taking himself in hand, he holds his cock, with one hand and grips Draco’s arse with the other, fingers delving into the divide between his cheeks.
“Hold yourself open,” he says. “I want to see you.”
Draco reaches back, grasps his cheeks with both hands, and holds them open to Potter’s view.
“Yeah, that’s it. Show me your tight little hole.”
Potter leans forward, he just barely touches his cock to Draco’s rim. “I’m not going to fuck you. Not here…. not today at least.”
Potter fists his cock, jerking himself until he erupts hard, painting Draco’s cheeks – splattering his hole with his come.
Once spent, Potter collapses against Draco’s back and presses small kisses up his spine as his finger slip-slides between Draco’s crack. He circles his tight furl – just plays with the mess he’s made there, as he fingers the still-warm come, smearing it into Draco’s skin.
“Mmm, Potter?” Draco circles his hips. His cock is already showing interest again as he enjoys the sensation of Potter’s finger slipping inside of him.
“Hmm?” Potter responds, pressing softly against his prostate.
“What do you want to do now?"
Potter touches his lips to Draco’s shoulder in a soft kiss. “I want to take you home and make even more of a mess of you. I want to fuck you every way that I can imagine. And I can assure you that I have a very broad imagination.”
Draco nods and smiles to himself. Scheduling Trimble's visit on a day when the Minister of Magic has no more appointments after lunch was a very good idea.