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.

"A prostitute? Obviously. And there are Apparation points in the Ministry, unless you don't work there anymore." All traces of shock have erased themselves from Malfoy's face. It sort of upsets Harry, because he's quite sure he himself still looks like a gaping fish.

"I do. Still work there, it is, I'm still an Auror."

"Shame." Malfoy blows a ring of smoke into the air, and Harry's grateful he doesn't blow it right in Harry's face like Harry had half-expected him to. "You'd be a lovely prostitute. You're very attractive, and the opportunity to sleep with the Saviour of the Wizarding World? You'd make more money than the Malfoy and Potter vaults combined."

Harry immediately leans back a bit, as though trying to distance himself from the conversation. "Not a chance."

"Right." Malfoy grins a bit then, and it's half-bitter and half-amused. "I forgot the Chosen One would never stoop so low."

Harry wants to tell him that that's not it, but it's not worth it. Malfoy's not worth it.

"How did you end up here?" he asks instead, gesturing around them.

Malfoy shrugs. He drops the cigarette on the ground and crushes it under one black heel. "I was a Death Eater, so I was ostracized from Wizarding society, I'm gay, so my father kicked me out, and I have no money, so I started doing the one thing I'm good at."

At the mention of his former Death Eater status, Harry's eyes immediately dart to Malfoy's left arm where the Dark Mark lays, stark black against alabaster skin.

Malfoy doesn't try to hide it or yell at Harry for staring. Instead, he glances down at the brand as well, a bitter look on his face. "At least it's good for business. Muggles think it's cool as fuck."

Harry stares at him for a long time before Malfoy sighs irritably. "Spit it out, Potter. You've got a million questions written all over your face. You look stupid."

"You're gay?" is somehow the first question Harry falls on.

"Yes. Good question. Top-notch, really cleared things up, especially since I explicitly stated that I am not even five minutes ago."

"How is sex the only thing you're good at?"

Malfoy scoffs. "No thanks, you're not unlocking Dark Tragic Past of the Evil Villian Enemy. We're not friends. Next question."

You're not a villain, and you haven't been my enemy in three years. "You fuck Muggles?"

"I fuck anyone who pays me."

"Even women?"

"Even women."

"But you don't like women," Harry states, and he's starting to feel like they're going in circles.

"I also don't like dodgy Ministry officials who have wives, but money is money, and I have rent to pay."

"I thought you hate Muggles."

"My father hates Muggles, and I looked up to my father. But a body is a body, magic or not, and money is money."

"So... you don't hate Muggles?"

Malfoy sighs heavily. "No, Potter, fuck, I don't hate Muggles. Are you happy? Can you go now?"

Harry doesn't go, and he's not quite sure why. Three years of not seeing the boy has left him with a bitter taste in his mouth at the sudden meeting, but he's intrigued by the blonde, former Death Eater or not.

Malfoy stares at him for a moment. "Unless... you know what you're doing here?"

"Going home," Harry responds automatically. He still doesn't move.

Malfoy pushes away from the pole, taking one step forward. His heel clicks on the ground, a soft but jarring sound that makes Harry want to immediately snap it off.

"Why do you wear heels?"

"Men love to pretend I'm a girl. They like to think that if I'm dressed like one, it'll somehow ensure their heterosexuality." Malfoy studies him, grey eyes flicking back and forth between Harry's. "Why are you here, Potter?"

"I'm going home."

"Are you?" Malfoy's hand is suddenly on his shoulder. Harry doesn't move away. The hand trails down his arm. "Because I know for a fact that you haven't had a real relationship since you and Ginevra split up, and I also know you came out as bisexual a year ago, and I also know you have a fuckton of money, and a penchant for going on dates with pretty blonde boys."

Harry is getting a very strong notion of where this is going and Malfoy is standing much closer than before, looking at Harry through his eyelashes in a way that is very pretty and confuses Harry quite a bit, because he's quite sure if he were to attempt the same thing, he would look psychotic.

Malfoy's hand travels to Harry's waist, and Harry pulls back immediately, several alarms going off in his head, the main one being I don't want to fuck Draco Malfoy.

He's sure his immediate horror is shown on his face, because the sultry look on Malfoy's face immediately hardens, and the blonde steps back.

"N-no, no thank you," he stutters out, mentally slapping himself. His skin is positively crawling.

"I almost forgot that too," Malfoy bites out, smooth voice gone and replaced with steel. "You would never stoop as low as to fuck a Death Eater, or a prostitute for that matter. You could have anyone, why would you bother with someone like me?"

Harry opens his mouth to tell Malfoy that that's not it, he's fucking asexual, but Malfoy's eyes flick to a spot over Harry's shoulder and he walks past him, approaching a tall brunette who looks at Malfoy like he wants to eat him.

Malfoy places a hand on the boy's shoulder and the boy murmurs something low, and Malfoy grins wickedly before pulling the boy away to God-knows-where.

Feeling quite unsettled, Harry walks to his Apparation point and goes home.

Hola my darlings! This is my new book that I've published only on AO3! The title is Infinitesimal, and if you can't find it that way, my AO3 name is the_drarry_life

:)