When a very irate looking Draco Malfoy practically flies down the hallway in the direction of one Harry Potter, Headmistress McGonagall doesn't even bat an eye. Until she does. She suddenly remembers that these are grown men, not rivaling school boys (no matter how much they can act like it). She knows the boys-turned-men could handle themselves and that she need not worry, besides she hasn't heard any crashing, yelling or any other sign of violence yet.
The Headmistress decides to let it be for now.
Draco Malfoy was blazing. The anger swelled within him and he could hardly see straight. People were just too much sometimes, he didn't understand them. Draco had done some terrible things in his life but he honestly knew little better; these people were the supposed good guys. He didn't want to dwell on their stupidity, but that anger he always forced away came to him today in one swift swoop.
And he somehow ended up at Hogwarts in search of the familiar mop of raven hair. Draco knew logically that Harry was a teacher and could potentially be in the middle of a lesson right now. However, logic was never his strong suit when he was enraged. He was just hoping on Merlin's braided beard that the fates would be kind and Harry would be alone.
The fates, like usual, were not in Draco Malfoy's favor.
He stormed into Harry's classroom only to be met with the tell-tale wide, blinking eyes of first years. Harry, graciously, continued his lecture as if nothing had happened and his students, captivated by Professor Potter in all his glory, returned their gazes to him. Draco was able to slip into an empty desk in the very back of the class to simmer. His anger was given time to stew and grow.
Thankfully, class was dismissed a few minutes later and Draco tried very hard to avoid any of the stares the children threw his way as they exited.
As soon as Harry pushes the door shut, the man says, "What were you thinking, Draco?!"
"Things at work are rough. And for Merlin's sake can you get me some tea?" Draco replies, too which Harry flashes him his classic, boyish grin.
Harry leads Draco to his office which is so very Potter. The furniture is laid-back and the room is decorated with photos (both wizarding and muggle), quidditch posters, gryffindor memorabilia, and random posters. It's messy, but just the right amount, Draco thinks. He takes a seat in one of the two comfortable looking brown-leather chairs and allows himself to relax.
A few moments later, Harry hands Draco a ghastly maroon and gold colored mug, Draco is certain Harry takes odd pleasure in serving the blond out of a Gryffindor mug. The blond man smirks as he takes a sip without a second thought. The tea tastes delicious, just the way he would make it himself. He wonders when exactly Harry memorized the way Draco took his tea.
Harry watched Draco curiously as the blond studied the mug and got comfortable in his chair. He had never seen Draco look so relaxed. The blond's comfort in Harry's life made him smile despite himself.
"What are you looking at, Potter?" Draco quizzed, glancing at him, gray eyes just visible over the edge of his mug. Harry had a feeling Draco was hiding a smile.
"Nothing, Draco," Harry said a little too fondly for even his liking, "well, are you going to tell my why you stormed into my classroom?"
The blond at least have the nerve to look a little bashful.
"Some of the people in my department."
"You mean the ones you let slip torment you at work?" Harry said with more anger than he intended.
"Yes! Fine," Draco exclaimed, sitting up a little further in the chair, "they call me terrible names that I do not intend to repeat, they whisper things about me, ABOUT YOU!"
"What do you mean, Draco?" Harry tried to say in a more calming tone.
"They say I'm a 'toy for Voldemort', that I've 'never gotten what I deserve', they ask 'what has Malfoy done to THE Harry Potter to sanction a casual workplace visit'," Draco said in a cool voice that chilled Harry to the core.
When Harry just gapes at him, the blond gets more anxious. "I don't know what to do, Harry!" Draco shouts frustratedly.
Harry rises from his desk chair and walks across the room to pour them some more tea. When he returns, he doesn't reclaim his old seat, but sits in the matching leather chair beside Draco. The former Gryffindor doesn't know how to comfort Draco or how to calm the anger boiling within him, but he at least has to try.
"I'll handle this," he tells the other man, trying to keep his own rage hidden.
"That won't help," Draco mumbles, but doesn't continue to argue.
"I can try," is Harry's response and Draco poorly hides his grin.
