Bottom Draco One Shots !Drarry!

To Serve At The Pleasure Of The Minister

Harry was on a call when Draco entered his office. Much had changed about the Ministry after the war. For one thing, they had quickly begun to embrace Muggle technology that heretofore had never been utilized. Such as telephones, and the internet, and mobiles. In the decade after, when Harry had taken over as Minister for Magic, and Granger had become his Deputy Under Secretary, the entire Ministry had been brought up to the 21st Century, kicking and screaming thanks to the Wizengamot. You couldn’t throw a stick without hitting a wizard on their mobile. Coffee machines sat in the canteen and televisions playing 24-hour news channels were on in every major conference room throughout the Ministry. Draco had found it all very strange, and more than a little disorienting in the beginning. As the Minister's personal secretary, Draco was expected to have his own mobile, plus handle everything for the Minister’s two mobiles, plus his diary which was almost entirely digital now, and his emails, and anything else that needed doing. He had spent months just learning it all, barely sleeping as he did so, but as time went on he had come to love all of it. Ballpoint pens over quills, he had never imagined he could be so thrilled by such a little thing. Sure they weren’t as fancy as the peacock feather quills he had grown up with, but they were like self-inking quills, except far more smooth. Emails had replaced those dangerous paper plane spells, and since owls largely no longer delivered mail he found a lot less dead mice all over the place.

Working for Harry Potter was, perhaps less glamorous than one might expect, considering his god-tier status among most of the Wizarding populace. Harry worked impossible hours, and his relationships had suffered because of it. He was terribly stressed, and overworked, and if Draco was any judge, under fucked.

Harry held up a finger, rubbing his temples as he spoke with the latest Muggle Prime Minister on his mobile. Harry loathed the man, but then, there hadn’t been a good one in quite some time in Harry’s opinion. Certainly not in Harry’s tenure. 

Draco crossed the space into Harry’s office, there was nothing particularly pressing he needed to tell him, honestly he didn’t even know what had possessed him to go into Harry’s office in the first place, only, seeing Harry look so stressed, and so perturbed, he could barely help himself as he stood behind the Minister’s chair and began to massage his shoulders. Harry hummed appreciatively.

“No Prime Minister, do go on,” Harry said. Draco chuckled, he could feel the tension in Harry’s neck and shoulders as he rubbed the muscles. Harry put his mobile on speaker, muting his side and tossed it onto his desk, letting out a moan as Draco massaged him. “Gods that feels good,” Harry said.

Draco smiled, “I’m glad, Minister,” he said. “I do aim to serve at the pleasure of the Minister.”

Harry groaned as Draco’s thumb pressed between his shoulder blades, causing a pop as he released a pocket of tension. “Mmm, don’t tease me, darling.”

Draco smirked, continuing to massage over Harry’s shoulders, “If you’ll permit me to overstep for a moment,” he said.

Harry snorted, “All you’ve ever bloody done since I hired you,” he teased. “But do carry on,” he said.

Draco grinned and perched himself on the edge of Harry’s desk. “When was the last time you were properly serviced?” he asked, with a suggestive look on his face. Harry leaned back in his chair, his legs spread and grinned.

“What did you have in mind?”

Draco grinned, dropping to his knees in between Harry’s legs, teasing his fingers over the bulge in Harry’s trousers. Harry shuddered. Reaching across the table, he unmuted his mobile for a moment just to give the Prime Minister his tacit agreement on something he had said before he muted it again. Draco unzipped Harry’s trousers, shoving his hand in, pulling out his thick, veiny cock. “Fuck,” Draco said.