There was a certain joy Draco got from pushing the ginger’s buttons, and he did it as often as he could. He would put good money on the fact that Weasley was straight, but it didn’t stop the blond from throwing himself at Ron for the sheer reaction of it. It would surprise Malfoy more than Weasley, likely, if Ron did anything to reciprocate; as far as Draco had over heard in boredom he had some bookworm nobody at home darning his socks and prattling on about anniversaries and birthdays. Still, it didn’t stop the fact that the very bisexual man teased his “captors” for entertainment factor.
He seemed to enjoy it far more than they did, and that was the game of it.
Icy grey eyes slid from the glowering ginger to the man with jet back hair. Draco had to give it to him…he did place a nice mask of professionalism down quickly, but not quickly enough for Draco to miss the initial reaction, and that…well that was a new toy to privileged son. There was a glint in Draco’s eye as he held Harry’s gaze, the corner of his mouth upturned as if daring the other to say something as the blond waited expectantly.
Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly when the most he got was a polite head nod and a clearing of the throat as if to say “this is highly inappropriate.” He was well versed in those noises. They came from his father and associates close to the family that knew Draco “behind the scenes” aware of just what he was up to. Even as the seasoned guard excused himself, Draco’s gaze trained on Harry’s, ignoring the ginger completely.
The corners of Draco’s mouth upturned as Harry stumbled over his words. It seemed that the man put on a good appearance, but when put to the test, showed his unrest. With a raised eyebrow, Draco smirked. ❝I’ll just get dressed then. I have a feeling tonight will be very…eventful.❞ Trouble shown in the greys of his irises. Without further ado, Draco turned around (flashing his ass without bothering to close the door) and walked into his closet to choose something fitting for the evening.
❝So…Potter was it? What did you do before you landed the unfortunate position of being my babysitter?❞
Harry’s heart was racing just from the intensity of the blond’s gaze, and the mischievous curve of his lips, the peeks of smooth, pale skin--
He had to actually turn away when Malfoy deliberately -- he was positive it was deliberate -- flashed his exposed ass to his new security guard. The asshole prick -- dammit -- brat was enjoying his new toy far too much already, and Harry had to get himself under control. Although, considering the way Malfoy had said tonight would be “eventful,” Harry suspected the blond had no intention of making that any easier as his shift went on.
He checked his watch. Seven hours and forty seven more minutes to go.
If his nerves weren’t already fried by the anxiety of the interview, the pressure of the first impression, and the exhilarating relief of getting a job, he’d be mad. Actually, if Draco Malfoy wasn’t a client, Harry would already hate him. When the newspaper featured articles about the prime minister’s son, he always rolled his eyes and skipped them. He found the attention-seeking behavior obnoxious. But he hadn’t quite been prepared to learn that Malfoy was actually just like the reporters described him, in person. Even when there weren’t any cameras to impress. This job wasn’t going to get any easier at all.
Harry almost groaned, and then remembered he’d been asked a question.
“I just graduated from the College of Policing,” he answered. “I’ve been a probationary constable for two years.” After a moment, he added, “Sir.” It felt weird to call someone his own age “sir,” but it was part of the job description.
That’s right, he thought. He’d been training for years to be composed and unfazed. He couldn’t let Draco Malfoy get to him if he had any hope of joining a real law enforcement agency in the near future. Lifting his chin and straightening his posture, he took his idle stance by the door and fixed his gaze straight ahead.
“Should I call for a chauffeur, Mr. Malfoy?”
