Draco decided he was officially bored. Every day promised they'd go get him a wand soon, and every day Harry made some excuse not to go. So instead of practicing potions or working on his defensive spells, Draco spent the time harry worked sitting on his ratty couch, watching soap operas in Spanish. He didn't understand a word of what they said, but found imagining his own script was much more fun than trying to figure out what "Tienes una cara como culo de una puta vieja" meant.

Sometimes he'd sneak out to play chess with the "gang" in the park, but ever since Harry blew up on him, he could barely bring himself to leave the apartment. Whenever he did, a strange irrational fear of Harry coming to him again would surge through his stomach and he'd go back to watching TV.

So there he lay, spread out on the couch waiting to be saved by the end of Harry's shift. "Ughh," he groaned, rolling over, "Harryyy where are you?"

The clock barely clinging to the wall read that harry should have gotten out of work twenty minutes ago. Little did he know that Harry was in the midst of a crisis.

-_-_-_-_-

Harry stepped out of Lester's office, taking a sip of the tea Lester made for him. He had been oddly nice to Harry today, which was both unsettling and reliving. Harry finally felt he could move up from cleaning and filing to doing real work, even if the work involved an investigation into the wizard living in his house.

But despite the promotion, Harry couldn't shake a strange feeling growing in the pit of his chest. Ever since that day in the park, with the strange dark magic emanating from his wand, he couldn't focus. He took another sip of tea as he walked into his broom closet of an office. The Head Auror had left a stack of papers on his desk to file. He grumbled, shoving them out of the way.

Why did they not take him seriously? The grip on his wand grew and he sat down at his desk, grumbling to himself.

He was the Harry Potter and all the Ministry did was shove him at a desk with no real job with just enough pay to make him complacent.

He deserved better than this. And if he didn't get it from the Ministry, he'd make them give it to him. Make them give him the respect he deserved. Harry growled, clutching his wand in a vice-like grip. The same black smoke as before began pouring out of the tip of his wand, filling up his small room. Harry gasped, breathing in the smoke. He coughed, grabbing his throat. His hand began to burn and he dropped his wand as if it were on fire. The smoke cleared and Harry sat there gasping.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Harry whispered to himself, his head falling into his hands.

He needed a break. Now he had a real job, and with Lester breathing his neck, Harry had no idea how he could keep going. What happened when his investigation partner found out that Draco Malfoy sat right beneath his nose the entire time?

Harry rubbed his face, wiping his glasses on his shirt. He must be tired. The strange thoughts piercing his head would go away if he just got more sleep. Harry glanced at the clock ticking away his life. It sat behind a huge stack of papers, all junk. Busy work they just shoved at him to keep him compliant, too busy to think for himself. To think about the broken system.

He stood, trying to clear his brain. Draco could help. Draco always took his mind off of the world. Even as the Ministry grew and grew with every new policy and more Wizard taxes, even as the Ministry began encroaching upon Muggles, Draco somehow took Harry away to some different world. That world kept becoming harder and harder to find, and the more harry thought about it, the more he wanted to turn it into reality.

Groaning, Harry stood and slipped out of his tiny office, walking along the now quiet halls of the Ministry. His footsteps echoed across the marble expanse of the offices. He nodded at the few passersby. Thankfully none of them stopped to talk like so many always did, always jumping at the chance to speak with the "Great Harry Potter."

Once he apparated back to the apartment, he found Draco laying on the couch, muttering to himself. "Dray?" he said cautiously.

Draco jumped, grabbing the TV remote and glaring at Harry. "Don't you ever knock?"

"Uh, this is my apartment," Harry rubbed the back of his neck, stepping toward Draco, "What were you doing anyways?"

"None of your business, wanker," Draco got up gracefully, walking towards Harry. "What took so long?"

Harry's mind went blank for a moment as Draco's arms slid around his neck but he quickly recovered, "Extra work, got held up."

"Well tell me next time?" Draco said, eyes flickering to Harry's mouth.

Harry didn't respond, kissing Draco deeply. Draco made a little noise, his hands jerking for a moment before he started kissing back. All the stress growing behind his eyes and his bones seemed to dissipate as he began shoving Draco toward the bedroom door. Neither noticed the black smoke emanating from Harry's hands as they fell back onto the bed, Harry forcing himself on top of Draco. He was sick and tired of everyone bossing him around, this time he wanted to be in charge.

Draco wrapped his legs around Harry, gasping. "Wait," he groaned, struggling underneath him.

"What?" Harry snapped, eyes flashing a darker shade of green.

"You're uhm, you're kinda glowing."

Harry blinked, "I'm sorry what?"