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"I said, let me through."
Draco always had a bad temper. It was basically his primary trait. Not that he is proud of it, but that is surely something to take into consideration when he's to be approached.
The secretary at the desk looks up at him, the pink bubble in her mouth bursting into a mess as she clicks her tongue to say, "Negative."
Count to ten, Draco tries to remember.
"Look," Draco starts to say and he takes a deep breath, "you clearly don't know who I am."
"Don't I?" she talks back with a tilt of her head.
Count to a fucking hundred.
Draco fears he'll snap his wand in two. Or hex her. Or both. "I will ask this one more time. As nicely as possible — and it's going to be the last." His eye twitches and he resists the urge to cover it. "I work here and I need to get into my office," he tries to explain calmly, "I was moved into it yesterday but it is my office."
He was moved into it yesterday. For a promotion, actually, one that was long due. The Minister of Magic usually grants promotions, but there had to be a board meeting to confirm his — obviously.
The secretary checks a folder, a bored sigh erupting from her bubblegum-covered lips. "Mm," she hums, "which office?"
Draco blinks at that. She's not letting him through and she doesn't even remember which fucking office he's talking about. "33A, seventh floor," he says flatly. He would love to smack the folder on her face.
"I don't see Malfoy written here."
"You don't see it because —"
"Because it's not your office," she interrupts.
"Look, fucking —" Draco has a look at her name tag, " — fucking Bridget lady, you better let my through right now or…"
"Or what," she snaps.
"Or my husband is gonna hear about this!"
Bridget's inner hamster starts running again. At least, that is Draco's impression as she stares silently at him before going pale, immediately looking back at the folder and turning a bright red.
"Yes, that's right," Draco spits through teeth, his tone somewhat satisfied. "You don't see Malfoy written in there because the name is Potter."
"I'm —"
"Let me through."
"Yes, Mr. Potter, have a nice day."
"Oh, mine is going to be nice," Draco murmurs, walking past the desk as he breaks into a grin. "Yours is going to be the last."
"So," Harry says as he hangs his coat beside the front door, "I had an interesting day."
Draco peeks at him over his shoulder, stirring the pot almost methodically. "You did?" he asks innocently. "Tell me about it."
Harry arches an eyebrow, quickly closing the distance between them to leave a peck on his temple. He knows his husband — Draco only stirs the soup manually when he's hiding something. "The secretary at the entrance, Bridget —" he says casually, "you must know Bridget, right?"
Draco shrugs lightly, lips twitching. "It doesn't ring a bell, actually."
The man that I married, Harry thinks.
"No?" he hums and he holds back a laugh — with significant difficulty.
"No," Draco confirms simply and he smiles broadly. Another thing he does when he's hiding something because Draco generally does not smile at all unless he's done something unlawful.
"Well, she came into my office."
Draco turns to face him immediately, arms crossed and a pleased smirk plastered on his face. "Oh, did she?"
Harry can barely resist the impulse to curl into a ball and wheeze. "Mm. She did."
"Well, don't hold back the details just now," Draco urges, his hand waving impatiently.
And that is when Harry fails.
"Oh, now why are you laughing!" Draco protests and Harry is convinced he would stomp his foot, were he alone. The thought makes him laugh even more. "At this point, you're doing it to rile me up!"
"Draco," Harry says once he's able to catch his breath and he throws his husband a look. "What did you do?"
Draco rolls his eyes at that, except he does that after a long beat. Harry seriously thinks he either completely lost his ability to lie once he quit being a deatheater or the others were simply sodding stupid.
"I didn't do anything, obviously."
"Yes, obviously. So, would you kindly explain why she came crying and begged me not to fire her, promising me that she would, I quote, apologize to my dear husband?"
"Ha," Draco explodes, "she can stick her apologies up her own —"
"Draco!"
"What."
This is usually the point where Harry has to pretend not to be amused and put his foot down to get an actual answer — putting his foot down usually involves bribing Draco with kisses and sweet talk. But Harry is apparently failing to pretend not to be amused, so he simply says, "Baby. Please?"
Draco opens his mouth just to immediately snap it shut and Harry grins. It's working.
"I told her to let me through," Draco starts in a seethe, "and the bitch wouldn't."
"Oh, Merlin."
"And I said — Harry, I said to her, to please let me through!"
"I bet you did."
"And she wouldn't!" Draco explains, his arms spreading.
Harry puts a spell on the pot — everytime Draco finally breaks, he forgets about the soup. "Well, I can't understand why she wouldn't," is his earnest remark. He hopes he won't actually have to fire her for incompetence.
"Because — I'm getting there. Because I got the promotion, right? They gave me a new office. And I feared they didn't update the documentation yet." Draco claps his hands. "But they did!"
Harry quietly (and secretly) snorts. Draco is a funny storyteller. "So what was the issue?"
"The issue," Draco repeats dramatically, "the issue is prejudice."
"Prejudice."
"Yes."
"What prejudice?"
"Listen!" he cuts in. "She looked into her folder — which was disorganized, by the way — and she went to check for my office, my brand new office." He takes two steps into the middle of the room and puts an indignant face on. "She checked," he keeps going, "and she said, I don't see Malfoy written in here."
Harry's mouth opens into a small 'o'. Shit , he thinks. "Shit," he says, "that prejudice."
Draco smiles brightly. "Yes, that prejudice," he announces. Harry wouldn't trust him with his wand, as for now. "And I was about to tell her that I am not a Malfoy anymore, but you know what she did?"
Harry dreads it. "What did she do?"
"She interrupted me."
"Oof."
"Yes. Exactly. Insubordination!"
"Draco, I think that's regular disrespect —"
"Insubordination!" Draco interrupts (ironically). "And I got understandably upset."
This is the part Harry dreads more. "And what did you do about it?" he tries to ask casually.
Draco lifts his eyebrows. "Well, isn't it obvious?"
Regrettably, no.
"I do like that you're unpredictable," Harry cuts short. He likes it for nights out. He likes it in bed. At work? Not so much. But Draco is an extremely resentful man and it is not safe to have an extremely resentful and unpredictable husband.
Draco clicks his tongue but Harry can see that he's very pleased with himself. "I told her," he begins, basically purring, "that my husband was going to hear about it."
Harry blinks. "You —," he coughs around a laugh, "you what?"
This brings to surface so many memories.
"You heard me," Draco retorts proudly. Then, he suddenly smiles as if he just remembered an even better detail. Harry almost hides. "Oh, and then I told her that it was going to be her last day!"
"Her last day."
"Yes —"
"Her last day? Do you have any idea how menacing that sounds?"
"It was menacing," Draco counters, as if Harry is stupid, "why would I have said that, otherwise?"
"I —," Harry begins, only to shut up immediately. Arguing with his husband? Pointless. "Nice."
"So, did she cry harder when you fired her?"
"I didn't fire her," Harry cries out, because he's exasperated at this point.
"Uh —," Draco says confusedly, before screaming a shattering, "What?"
And Harry can't believe he has to say this again, but he does. "Baby, I can't fire every single person who crosses you."
"Of course you can," Draco argues pointedly, grasping at his chest as if Harry asked for a divorce. "Why are you even Minister of Magic, then?"
"Um. For plenty of reasons?"
"Oh, except this one!"
"Draco —"
"You don't love me enough to protect me."
Oh, he's a funny one. "Baby —"
"Do not baby me!"
"What if I told you that I might make her greet you with lemon tarts everyday," Harry tries. He would have to give her a bloody raise. "You do love lemon tarts."
"Lemon tarts?" Draco mocks, "So sweet it made my balls retreat. What if I told you we're not having sex tonight?"
Harry groans. "Oh, don't."
"Oh, do."
"But I really wanted to have sex with you tonight," Harry whines — because it usually works when Draco tries to get something from him by withholding sex.
"Really now?" Draco says softly.
Yes, yes, yes, Harry thinks. "Really," he repeats and he gives him his best grin.
And Draco scowls. "Sucks for you, because you're sleeping on the sofa."
Fuck.
"Baby, please!" he groans and he follows Draco into the corridor. Guess what — he's stomping his feet. Typical.
"Baby, please," Draco mocks.
It's the point of the argument when Draco just repeats everything Harry says. Childish much.
"This is immature."
"This is immature."
"Really? Again?"
Draco scrunches his nose, arms crossed on his chest. He's determined to keep going. "Again? Really?"
Harry narrows his eyes. It doesn't hurt to try. "I really want to suck your —"
"Suck your own dick, Potter" Draco cuts in flatly,"You're sleeping on the sofa tonight."
"Oh, I hate you," Harry breathes out.
Draco scoffs and takes a step forward to close the distance between them, his fingers pushing Harry's glasses further up on his nose. "Not more than you'll hate me in a little," he says cheekily, "Potter."
And he proves that by catching his face into his hand and kissing him, so sweetly it makes Harry's head spin, his vision blur and his hands hitch. Harry has just the time to deepen the kiss, his arms wrapped around his husband's waist, that Draco breaks it. Harry can't help the sound that leaves his mouth.
Draco parts his hands from Harry's face with a sigh, even as the poor lad chases his lips, and then goes to pat them on his shoulders. "Yep," Draco says, already walking towards the stairs and giggling around the words, "you really should've fired her."
Harry watches him intently, hips swinging as he disappears into their bedroom, and then peeks at the sofa, heaving out a sigh.
Yeah, he thinks. I really should have fired her.