Drarry Oneshots 2

Accepting a Compliment

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: Draco doesn't know how to accept a compliment. Then again, Harry has a weird way of showing his appreciation.

Author: dracogotgame (on ao3)

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"In conclusion, gentlemen," Blaise finished, setting his quill down with a flourish, "I think you'll find that Puddlemere United is poised to give you the highest return on your investments should you choose to sponsor us this season. And no, I'm not just saying that because I'm their manager."

His little jibe got him a few chuckles from the assembled representatives. A few of them were reaching for the contracts as he spoke. Blaise suppressed the urge to pump his fist. He had this one in the bag.

"Now, I admit I might be a little biased given my associations with PU, but I assure you that we're the best team out there! Why? Because we've got the S.N.I.T.C.H! That's Spirit, Natural Talent, Intuition, Teamwork, Camaraderie and..."

"Blaise! Get out here and fix this before I murder your thrice damned Seeker!"

The enraged shout rang out like a battle cry. Some of the sponsors jumped in their seats. Old Atticus Selwyn yelped in alarm and upset a pitcher of water.

Blaise groaned and swiped a hand over his face. "Heart," he finished dryly.

The next second, Draco Malfoy burst through the door, with murder in his eyes.

"Hello, Draco," Blaise deadpanned. "What can I do for my star Chaser today?"

Draco was not appeased by the compliment. He strode past the assembled sponsors, leaned over and slammed his fists on Blaise's desk. Oh, he really was pissed this time.

"He did it again," he bit out.

Blaise reintroduced his hand to his face. Honestly? This again? How had this become his life? "Draco," he tried. "I'm kind of in the middle of someth..."

"You fix this," Draco hissed back. "You fix it, or I'll fix him. And it won't be pretty."

Blaise gave up. He didn't exactly have a choice. On one hand, the sponsors were important. On the other, his Seeker was liable to lose a limb— or something much more valuable— if someone didn't calm Draco down.

"Fine," he sighed. "Let's talk. Please excuse us, gentlemen. This will only take a minute."

The sponsors filed out with grudging whispers and muttering and wary glances in Draco's general direction. Once the door clicked shut, Blaise turned to him.

"Well, go on. What did Potter do to you this time?"

Earlier that day:

Draco tucked the Quaffle under his arm and made a landing. He was absolutely wrecked. Marianne Holdt— team captain and resident slave-driver— had gotten it into her head that the Chasers needed a little one on one time. Thanks to her wise and generous leadership, Draco had a whole new collection of bruises to show off.

All he wanted to do was take a shower and crash. In fact, he was so exhausted that he almost didn't notice Potter jogging up to him. Draco frowned. There was no Seeker practice today. Why was Potter here? Draco made it a point to avoid him as much as possible, given their complicated history.

Unfortunately, Potter was pretty much everywhere.

"Hey there, Malfoy," Potter greeted, striding alongside him.