Harry hung up his Ministry-issued cloak, revealing a maroon jumper underneath. Draco raised his eyebrow at the expensive looking fabric. "I see you've done well for yourself."

Potter nodded, waving to a stuffed armchair. Draco remained standing, waiting for Potter to.... do something, shoot a curse at him or something. Instead, Potter started moving a series of magazines off a couch and onto a cluttered coffee table. "Sorry about the mess," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I would've never expected you in my house."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Obviously. You live in a pigsty, Potter."

Potter's face reddened slightly and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "You look like a pigsty."

Hurrying around the small room, Potter shoved a pile of clothes underneath a dresser. Draco almost laughed at the display - Potter rushing around his house, to make sure everything was perfect for Draco. Grinning slyly, Draco slid into the old chair, looking around.

Aside from the black-haired man running around, the apartment was rather fancy. Several doors led to mysterious rooms, one open revealing an unmade queen-size bed. The walls were a creamy white, and Potter had used his nonexistent interior decorating skills to furnish his flat with red square carpets, photos of his Gryffindor cronies adorned the walls, a granite kitchen island showed that Potter's disorganization applied to dishes as well.

Potter collapsed onto his old couch, sighing. "So..." he said, "if the Ministry finds you, you'll be taken in for questioning."

He ran a hand through his thick black hair, "I shouldn't be doing this."

Draco almost laughed, picking a piece of dirt of his ragged shirt. He nodded, "Then why did you bring me here?"

Harry shuttered, "I don't really know. This is certainly not Ministry approved."

If Draco had been eating something, he would've spit it right out. "Since when do you care about whether something is Ministry approved or not."

Harry seemed confused, "Since I became an Auror, well, an Junior one. I'm not done with training yet."

Draco frowned, "That's not the Harry Potter who did everything in his power to piss me off."

Potter's smile was obviously forced, and the muscles in his neck and jaw tightened. "Neither are you the Draco Malfoy who pissed everybody off. And definitely not the snooty prat I knew."

Draco shrugged, "Living on the lamb does things to you."

Harry snorted, "Obviously. Why though? Why did you leave?"

"And let the Ministry turn me into one of their pawns like they did with you? Or get thrown into Azkaban with my parents? I don't think so. Living under a bridge was the best option."

"I ran into your friend."

"Trevor? Yeah he's great."

The black-haired man shook his head, grabbing a pillow an ugly shade of yellow and hugging it to his chest. "I had to hex him."

Draco noticed how troubled Potter was by the fact. "It's your job." he pointed out, flicking his finger in his direction.

He nodded, "I know...Usually I just end up with mopping duty or filing. Sometimes housecalls, I'm not trained for the big stuff yet."

"The Great Gryffindor Golden-boy, on cleaning duty? Anything to keep Harry Potter in check, right under the Ministry's thumb. Can't question the government if you're too busy cleaning the bathrooms can you?" Draco tossed his head back and laughed.

"Hey!" Potter stood, shaking angrily.

He took a deep breath, tossing the putrid pillow to the couch, marching off. Draco heaved a sigh, standing up and going after the man. Potter was risking a lot to bring him into his home after all. Why, Draco still didn't know; but he was going to find out, that he was certain of. Smirking a smile worthy of the prince of Slytherin, Draco stalked off to find Harry.

The man was in an office-like room, leaning over a cheap white desk, shoulders tight as he stared downwards. He sighed, turning to look at the blonde, "Sorry I, I don't know why I responded that way, I guess....I don't know, I guess I thought..."

Draco blew a breath of air, running a hand through his dirty hair, "Always one with words Potter."

Harry furrowed his brow, thinking a few moments before saying. "Why don't you take a shower and get a fresh pair of clothes on, then we can discuss what to do next."

A few minutes later, Draco was in Potter's small bathroom, leaning against the showerwall as hot water fell onto his pale skin. He hadn't had a decent shower in months; the feeling of soap against his flesh reminding him of his days at Hogwarts, when all his troubles were small.

Even with Harry's poor choice in hygiene products, the apple shampoo foaming in his platinum hair still relaxed Draco. He frowned at the brown liquid falling from his locks to the tub; had all that been in his hair? Draco would've gagged in previous years, but now he only found it mildly unsettling. Searching for conditioner, all Draco found was a small bottle, probably from a hotel, unopened. He snorted, of course Potter didn't use conditioner. He squeezed some of the substance into his hand and ran it through his hair. Sighing happily, he fell against the wall, scrubbing himself clean.

After a little over an hour in the shower, Draco turned off the water and stepped into a steaming bathroom. Smoke curling around him, he found a soft white towel, drying himself off and grabbing the pair of clothes Harry had left him.

An oversized Gryffindor sweater and black slacks, accompanied by two mismatched socks. Draco would have laughed if he weren't the one having to wear the clothes. He groaned, biting his lip as he forced himself to put on the jumper.

Emerging from the bathroom, he spotted Harry sitting on his tan couch, glancing up at him and bursting into laughter.

Draco pressed his lips together, crossing his arms, the sleeves of the sweater well beyond the tip of his fingers. "I hate you," he said bluntly.

Harry, still chuckling, stood and patted Draco's shoulder apologetically, "It was the only one I thought would fit you."

Draco waved the sleeves falling over his hands, "Obviously not. This thing looks like a fucking dress."

Harry grinned, "I like it, it looks good on you. Your body is so feminine it suits your figure."

Draco stuck out his tongue, "It's called eating leftover shit from dumpsters and hand out."

Potter rubbed his square chin, "Huh? Who knew? Dumpster food makes you look like a girl."

Draco gasped, mouth falling open as he slapped Potter across the bicep, "Prat!"

Potter laughed, suddenly serious again as he whipped his wand out and aimed it at the door, "Go hide under the bed. Someone just disturbed my wards and they, whoever it is, cannot, under any circumstances know I have you here."

Draco leaned upwards and bit Potter's ear, getting him back for the sweater. "Why? Am I your dirty little secret, Potter?"

He noticed Harry's eyes dilate slightly as he shoved Draco in the direction of his bedroom, "I'm serious. Go!"

Draco did as he was told, mumbling to himself before he heard the sound of someone knocking at the front door.