Drarry Oneshots 2

infinitesimal

Infinitesimal (noun): A word that seems very large, but in fact means extremely small, proof that not all things are as they seem.

Or: Harry is an asexual clueless bean who wants nothing more than to develop cures, and Draco is a sex worker with far too much trauma and way too many convoluted and dramatic quotes, and they come to know each other through the language of spells, potions, and halfhearted insults.

The night is cold, storm-is-coming cold. Frigid, wet leaves fall from trees. One lands on the back of Harry's neck, a reminder of the past few exceedingly rainy nights.

It's not the kind of cold that has you irritated and constantly miserable, but the kind that lets up a bit at a time and lets you forget about it, before one stray raindrop falls from the sky or a particularly cold breeze sways you, or you look at the sky and see the grey clouds residing there, and then you shiver, feeling chilled right down to the bone.

Harry is sure it will rain soon, but his Apparation point is another half-mile away. It's his own fault, really, for not using the Ministry Apparation points. If he had, he would be home right now, but instead, he had waved Ron off and said he wanted to take a walk.

Which had been true until that freezing cold leaf had fallen onto his neck, and now Harry shivers and regrets not just following his usual pattern and using the Ministry Apparation points. He resolves to never make that decision again.

His eyes are downcast, focused on the ground he's walking on instead of the area behind him. It's not the best practice for an Auror, but Harry has exceptional hearing and figures if someone does try to attack him (unlikely), he would get enough warning to fight back.

There is a small shuffling sound ahead of him and Harry glances up, pausing in his walk to view the figure before him.

Platinum blonde, curly hair obstructs the man's face from view. In fact, Harry's not entirely sure this person is a man, they seem very androgynous. Their delicate frame leans back against the pole behind them, a lit cigarette in one hand, the other hand falling at their side.

That's not what catches Harry's attention though. That would be the outfit.

The person is wearing a sheer black t-shirt that stops midway down their toned stomach, paired with a short, tight black skirt and fishnet stockings, topped off with tall black heels. Harry is tempted to assume this person, who he's now starting to realize might be a sex worker, is female, especially given the skirt, but he knows from years of friendship with one Blaise Zabini that one can wear a skirt and definitely still be a man.

Nevertheless, whether this person is or is not a female (or, for that matter, is or is not a sex worker) is irrelevant to Harry, because his only real goal right now is to get to the Apparation point, and, consequently, home.

Unfortunately for one Harry James Potter, things are never just that simple for him, and instead, after exactly twelve more steps, he glances to the right and freezes when he realizes he's looking right into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy's eyebrows shoot up. "Potter?"

"Malfoy." Harry does his absolute best to not show any emotion on his face. He has a strong impression he's failing miserably.

Malfoy blinks. Once. Twice. One of his eyebrows lowers, but the other remains raised in curiosity, something Harry doesn't recall Malfoy being able to do.

"Potter, what on Earth are you doing walking down a street popular for its sex workers?"

"I... I really didn't know that it is. I was going to my Apparation point. Wait, you're a...?" Harry can't bring himself to say the word. A flush crosses his face.