Fest Fic: Brew a Bottle of Love (Part 2), George/Draco, (NC-17)

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7 months to go…

It had taken him months, but Draco finally thought he knew the secret of pygmy puff love-making.

“It’s all in the tongue,” he told Jordan, who came far too close in his attempt to look into the cage. Draco did not even think about making room for him and so he was forced to inhale his scent, which was not particularly unpleasant, but foreign and just not something Draco thought he could grow accustomed to.

“Ugh, Malfoy!” Jordan elbowed him – roughly. “I don’t wanna think about that! Those tongues touch me when I carry them upstairs, okay?”

“I don’t want to know where your hands already have been,” Draco replied, not even trying to disguise his disgusted expression. That image just resulted in pure, intense aversion.

“Well…” Jordan’s incredibly white teeth almost blinded Draco when he grinned at him. “I know for sure where they haven’t been yet.” And then he winked at Draco. With this strange emphasise on ‘yet’ Draco could only feel more disgust and wished he were in a position to verbalise that.

So he stuck to an innocent remark. “The shelves on the second floor? Quite a thick layer of dust waiting there for you.”

Lee still grinned, not serious about the challenge, but not refusing it either. “Maybe the slave of the store wants to join me –”

“Lee.” The harsh voice from behind caused Jordan to turn around since he was not used to George speaking to him like George was his boss. “Break’s over. Need you upstairs.”

Draco ignored whatever look Jordan flashed him and focused on the pygmy puffs. Two of them still with entwined tongues. A few minutes ago it had looked quite cute but by now Draco thought they only accidentally knotted their tongues together.

When he moved to help them, a hand slammed against his shoulder. Draco fell with his side against the cold stone wall of the cellar.

Reflexively, he whirled around. “What the heck is wrong with –” He bit his tongue as he noticed that he spit his words directly into George’s face. Jordan was gone. And Draco found himself hoping for his return.

George scowled at him, his eyes with the same stoniness they had on Draco’s first day. His face filled with signs of rage and when his fist punched next to Draco’s face against the wall, Draco had a hard time not to show that he was actually afraid.

“You are not allowed to romantically interact with my employees. Understood?”

Raising his chin proudly, Draco said, “Excuse me, Boss, but just because I prefer romantic interaction with men doesn’t mean I throw myself at the next best guy.”

“Don’t talk about my best mate like that,” George growled and not only was his anger visible, Draco could also feel the heat because of the almost not existent distance between them.

“Since he’s your best mate you should know by now that he’s quite flirtatious. He even spoke like that to McGonagall and I’m sure he didn’t plan any romantic interaction with her.” Draco crossed his arms, hoping this would work as some kind of barrier to keep George at least a few inches away from him.

“Since I know that you’re a dirty, little whore I am allowed to worry about a love potion accidentally slipping in my best mate’s tea.” George said so many hurtful things in that one sentence that Draco did not know how to react at first.

Eventually, when George already seemed to notice what his statement had done, Draco snorted and forced a smirk.

“You should rethink your sources, Weasley.”

George’s fist hit once more against the wall. “I don’t have to rethink, Malfoy. You do what I want you to do or you walk straight to Azkaban. And I don’t want to see you flirting with my best mate.”

Draco’s jaw clenched painfully as he tried not to say something but every time he had to listen to such things it got harder. He balled his hands into fists and unfolded his arms, narrowing his eyes to thin slits as he looked up at George. The words were on his tongue, but the thought of Azkaban sealed his lips.

George growled. “Pathetic, Malfoy. You’d do anything to stay out of Azkaban. I don’t even want to know how many times you tried to seduce yourself out of this shit. Too bad you got my brother, eh? No chance there, not even with the prettiest arse in the world.”

Draco frowned at this comment, by now able to ignore any attempts to insult him. Was it jealousy that had George’s face red like a tomato? That would also explain why his hand was suddenly on Draco’s chin, lifting his face and holding him in place.

“I wonder how far you’d go to stay here.”

Draco licked his lips, because George continued to lean closer. And did it really matter what he said when he – in the end – only needed an excuse to express his feelings?

“Tell me, Malfoy. How far?” George’s lips were hovering barely an inch away from Draco’s.

Draco stayed stoically silent. He did not want to lose the last bit of his pride and admit that he would willingly crawl into George’s bed even without any threats of Azkaban. It was pathetic enough if he reminded himself that this was still a Weasley. George might be successful and he earned enough money that, with other cases, Draco’s parents would consider worth a try, but he was a Weasley. He had red hair, lots of freckles, and almost as many siblings. Having a crush on him was bad enough; being at his mercy would be worse.

“Answer me,” George gritted out between teeth that were almost as tightly clenched as Draco’s. His lips still looked temptingly soft… Draco should know that the worst thing he could do would be to give up his resistance in this situation. But all the things George could force Draco to do when he realised how much power he actually had seemed worth a try in Draco’s clouded mind.

Draco swallowed hard. “Could you… do that?” he asked. “Are you such a conscienceless man, George?” The use of his first name seemed to finally soften George up a bit, but he stayed close, his breathing erratic and warm against Draco’s lips. “Do you hate me so much?”

George looked like he honestly had to think about this, and Draco had been so sure that hate had long passed, but… apparently he had hoped in vain. Hate that had grown over years could not disappear in half a year. Neither could it turn into something more.

Well then, he had obviously never hated George.

Draco wanted to turn his head away when George suddenly moved closer. He pressed his body against Draco’s, his hands moving back to the wall, fingers splaying on stone that was not cold enough to decrease the desire burning through Draco’s body.

Draco’s eyelids grew heavier as he watched George leaning closer. It was laughable how much he wanted to close the distance. There was only one thing he wanted more than kissing George now, or tomorrow, or forever and always…

And before Draco could finish his thoughts it already happened. He was kissing George, and George was kissing back, and he could not say who had started the kiss. Draco started touching, at least with his hands, because George was virtually glued to him, pressing closer and closer, slowly moving up and down, starting the friction that forced Draco to cling to him.

His hands explored the flexing muscles, moving down George’s spine and back up to his shoulder blades to scratch over them with his nails. That was the trigger for George’s knee to slip between Draco’s legs, and it felt so good to get even closer to him that Draco could not help but moan helplessly.

“Please…”

And that one word seemed to be the trigger for George to stop. At first he did not pull away except with his mouth, which already caused enough pain in Draco. His body automatically followed George’s when he tried to step backwards. His fingers clutched to George’s robe as he hungrily moved to stand on his tiptoes, greedily trying to reach George’s lips.

“Please,” Draco muttered again. He was starving for affection, something he had never been more aware of in years. That was why it hurt so much to be pushed away again.

There was a disgusted look on George’s face as he sized Draco up, a pathetic mess of need leaning against the wall. Draco could understand it; he would have looked at himself in the same way. But it still hurt. And it did not stop hurting.

“I don’t want this.” George shook his head, tired, exhausted, like he had tried to save a long lasting relationship and finally realised that it was too late.

Panic rose in Draco and he straightened. “Don’t,” he said hastily when George moved to leave. The way he looked back at Draco was almost hopeful. “Don’t throw me out. I won’t come out of here again. I won’t say anything to anyone… I’ll stop thinking about you, but, please, don’t throw me out. You are everything that stays between me and Azkaban.”

Now Draco hoped he looked pathetic. He wanted to make George feel at least pity for him, because the one thing in the world he wanted more than anything else was remaining free of Azkaban.

George snorted and turned around. Not a single word left his unusually red lips and the silence he dragged over the room was only broken when he slammed the door of the cellar shut, leaving Draco with pure fear running cold through his veins.

~*~
6 months to go…

“So, Mr. Malfoy, is there anything else?” Percy Weasley finished his round in the cellar in front of the potion ingredient shelves. He avoided looking at the poster above the pygmy puff cage, but his gaze towards Draco ensured that he thought it belonged to Draco.

“Anything else?” Draco smiled weakly into his cauldron. Rosy potion glittered transparently in the dim light of the cellar. Love potion. Percy had made sure that it was only a light one and nothing with which Draco could cause any damage. Apparently this visit was only to make sure he was as good as locked away here. “No, nothing. You’ve seen everything I’m allowed to lay hands on.”

Percy stopped writing on a parchment roll and looked at Draco over the rims of his glasses. He frowned, but Draco could not say why and continued filling the small bottles. Christmas was here and the love potion was selling well because, naturally, people did not like being alone on Christmas. Percy had probably chosen this day to pay Draco his visit to pick his brothers up. Soon they would head for the Burrow and be happy.

And Draco would suffer. He suffered from the steady fear that George would just stop treating him like air and kick him straight into Azkaban.

“You’ve changed.” Percy’s voice pulled Draco back into reality before he could ponder too long about how exactly George was treating him. “I just don’t know if it’s for the better.”

Draco pulled new bottles from one of the many drawers. It had taken him quite some time to get to know all of them; now he could find his way through shelves and drawers blindly. He had grown accustomed to this place… and surprisingly to his position: his position before the kiss. Until then everything had been all right. He might have disgraced himself with staring at George like a love- sick teenager, but since he was only eighteen he was allowed to stare like that. After all… he was love sick.

“Is that a bad thing?” Draco asked and Percy’s frown increased, like he was not able to follow Draco, or maybe just because he could not quite believe what he was saying. “Change, I mean. It’s what the Ministry wanted.”

This was a statement Percy liked, considering his love for the Ministry – the new one even more than the old. Draco had learned to cope with the new one as well, unlike his father. But he had never cared much about politics and as long as he stayed out of Azkaban everything was okay.

“Of course, it’s a positive effect if working here changes you for the better.” Percy put his parchment back into his briefcase. “But that wasn’t what I meant. You look depressed.”

Draco shrugged. “My private life is still mine and none of your business.”

“It is, if my brother doesn’t treat you properly it –”

“I’m not a bloody animal!” Draco was quite shocked at himself at the sudden freak out. Percy stared blankly at him. Draco lowered his eyes to the cauldron. “I don’t want to be talked about like that. The relationship between your brothers and me is on adequate terms considering the situation.”

“Of course…” Percy pulled another parchment out of his briefcase. “I need you to sign this after reading it carefully. Then please give it to George.”

“This whole paper stuff is so annoying,” Draco muttered and noticed that this statement was not to Percy’s liking. The sullen expression brought a by-now unfamiliar twitch to Draco’s mouth. He ripped the parchment out of Percy’s hand and smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Malfoy.” Percy reached out a hand to shake Draco’s. “We meet again when your community service is over.”

“Brilliant! And I hope never again afterwards.” Draco smirked. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Weasley.”

“The same to you,” Percy managed to grumble when he turned to leave.

Draco read the parchment and realised that it was pretty much like the one he had already signed, so he put it away and turned back to his work. He did not want to give George any reason to talk to him again. For George, even just risking moving his lips in front of Draco seemed too much. Draco was getting his orders from the Weasel, the one and only staff member not in danger to get filled up with love potion by Draco, apparently.

Draco held up the last bottle and watched the liquid shimmering when he corked it. This disgustingly girlish looking stuff could change everything. One drop and George would talk to him again. The whole bottle and he might kiss him once more.

Draco closed his fingers around the bottle. Why could he not brew a true love potion and force George to return his feelings? Because he did not want to be that desperate.

Half a year to go… that should be manageable. He would try to get over this.

Draco shoved the bottle into the pocket of his robes as a reminder of this promise to himself. Then he grabbed the roll of parchment and turned the lights off with a flick of his wand. The pygmy puffs squeaked their goodbyes and rolled together into the usual huge ball for sleep.

The shop was already dark, which was strange because normally he was shoved out before closing. Percy must have been impatient to leave with his brothers.

Draco decided to leave the parchment on the counter when he suddenly heard noises coming from upstairs. Frowning, he moved to take a look but there was no light.

“Hello?” When no answer came Draco pulled out his wand and cast a Lumos, sending it up to the second floor. He followed the magical light up the stairs and thought he noticed a shadow disappearing in the corridor that led to the flat above the shop.

“George?” Draco was unsure if he should risk taking a closer look. But George was with his family. It was Christmas after all, and certainly Percy and the Weasel had made sure to take their brother home.

Draco gulped hard. If this was a burglar he should call the Aurors and not try to handle this on his own. He might get hurt.

The sudden noise of a fist slamming against a wall kept Draco from turning around. And the audible curse ensured him that this was not a burglar.

“George?” Draco cautiously shoved the door open and stepped into the corridor. He had never been here before and did not know how it looked with daylight coming through that small window at the end of the corridor, but compared to the shop it looked rather cheap. The floor was dusty and in the corners of the ceiling spiders had woven complicated webs. Now he knew why the Weasel refrained so often from going upstairs.

At the end of the corridor, stairs led to the third floor. Draco raised his wand to enlighten the perfect darkness that had even swallowed George, almost like Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

“I can’t see anything. Are you up there, George?” Draco clung tightly to the railing as he walked up the stairs, fearing that he might fall backwards or through the stairs that creaked with every step. “George, if –” Draco stumbled over something, not sure if it was the end of the staircase or something else. He reached for the railings, but could not find them in the darkness.

When he crashed to the ground with full force he realised that it was surely not the stairs that had caused his fall. It was warm and soft and moaned because of Draco’s weight.

“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy! You’re heavy…” George’s hand searched for his shoulders but they unsuccessfully patted around in Draco’s face. Draco slapped them away.

“Sorry, okay? You could’ve warned me.” Draco moved to sit straight, his hands wandering over George, the floor, and George, the wall, and maybe a bit too often back to George.

“I’ve dropped a package of Darkness Powder. You should’ve stayed away, Malfoy.”

“I thought it was a burglar!”

“It’s none of your business if anyone tries to rob my shop, okay?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time, Boss. Would you stop groping now?”

“Said the one with his hand between my legs.”

Draco jerked away and crawled backwards until he felt a wall in his back. He wished he could disappear in it.

George chuckled. “That was a joke.”

Heat was certainly painting his cheeks red, so Draco was glad George could not see him at the moment. The silence between them was enough evidence for his embarrassment. Draco cleared his throat and tried to search the darkness for a hint where George could be.

“Since when are you in the mood for jokes again?” he asked. He heard George sigh and looked towards that direction.

“I thought that maybe you’d be in need of a joke.”

Draco only made a questioning noise.

“Percy told me you’re not happy here. That you look depressed. And he said it’s my fault, so…”

“You think joking around would immediately change that?” Draco snorted. “Come on, that wasn’t new to you anyway.”

George wove himself in silence and if he walked away now Draco would probably not notice.

“I can imagine better things than living in fear of Azkaban every day,” Draco continued, somehow feeling safer in the all-consuming darkness. It was easier to speak openly when no one could look into his eyes. Maybe George felt something similar.

“Why’re you still afraid? I’m not going to throw you out.”

“Well…” Draco now wished he could see George’s face. “Your reactions towards me are quite ambivalent. You could change your mind anytime, after… since we…”

“Since we kissed?” George could not see Draco’s nod, but he was not waiting for an answer anyway. “You’ve been ignoring me since then.”

“What?” Draco shook his head, but George could not see that either. “I don’t… I mean… okay, but you are, too! And you’re my boss. You said you didn’t want it, didn’t want me. If you don’t want me there’s no reason for you to keep me here.”

“You’ve signed enough papers to ensure your stay here,” George said, his voice so low that it was almost drowned out by the noises he made when he apparently tried to stand up. “And I never said that I didn’t want you.”

Draco felt the other body coming closer. He reached out in the darkness, aiming for George but grapping into nothingness. Again and again.

“George?”

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Draco’s words turned into a gasp when George’s body pressed him against the wall. Then there were lips on his forehead, his cheek and temple. Draco tilted his head to help George find his lips.

The kiss was like their conversation; protected by the darkness, Draco felt strangely safe to open up completely. The eagerness of George’s tongue would not have allowed any resistance, sweeping into Draco’s mouth like a hurricane that left his well-sorted emotions in a complete mess.

Draco’s hands skittered restlessly between them to open the buttons of George’s robe but that was denied. George grabbed his wrists and pulled his lips away from Draco’s.

“No,” he breathed. “I don’t…”

“Don’t say you don’t want this again,” Draco interrupted, his breathing heavy and fast.

“I want this,” George replied harshly, sounding like he was frustrated with Draco once again being willing to give him everything he wanted. “I just don’t want it like this.”

“I’d like to see you, too, but –”

“Stupid, no.”

Draco was confused. “You don’t want to see me?”

George laughed, but his words held no amusement. “I can’t read you, Malfoy. You’re acting so strange ever since you began working here. You may only doing this because you’re afraid I’ll send you to Azkaban otherwise.”

Draco started to understand. His hands tightened their grip and pulled George back against him.

“It’s Christmas,” he said against George’s slightly parted lips. “Even I am not working for you on Christmas.”

He turned George around, still standing chest-to-chest to him but pressing his boss against the wall, and it felt deliciously good to finally have control over something again. This time Draco opened the buttons of his robe, because there he certainly found no resistance. George could not see it, but he had to feel the movements, chest rising and falling quickly with his erratic breathing.

“Draco…” George pursed his lips, but instead of kissing him, Draco grabbed George’s shoulders.

“On your knees,” he ordered and shoved George down, and once again Draco was glad not to be able to look George in the eyes. It took him another rough push to get George to obey, but apparently George only needed a moment to accept the shift of authority and another one to take it back from Draco.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” George asked in a low and slightly mocking voice.

Draco shrugged off his robe fully while George’s hand moved torturously slow over his legs, to the insides of his thighs and completely ignored his groin when they reached to unbuckle Draco’s belt.

“The sight of me on my knees?”

Draco pressed his hand against the wall and looked down into complete blackness. “Sight? What sight?”

George laughed, but Draco almost did not hear it because he moaned. Moaned just because of George’s fingers sliding beneath the stiff fabric of his trousers, winding round his cock and stroking slowly. That would justify another laugh, which never seemed to come from George anymore. That was the reason that caused Draco to flush even darker.

He reached down to shed his trousers, not ashamed that they slipped past bony hips and thin legs, because George could not see. He could feel, though, and he seemed to be fond of touching every part of revealed skin. His hot breath was skating over Draco’s usually cold skin and not only caused goosebumps but left Draco trembling. It had been so long since anyone touched him – wanted him. He was desperate for more.

Draco moved his hand to George’s hair and grabbed it in tufts as he dragged George forward.

The feeling of George’s mouth was better than Draco imagined: warm, wet and so powerful that it made him dizzy. He moaned so uncontrolled that the sound echoed from the walls hiding in the darkness. He did not care what noises escaped him now, because George seemed to be encouraged by them, grabbing Draco’s hips and urging him to move.

Draco let George control the rhythm at first, too lost in his own pleasure to care for anything else, but tongue and mouth moved teasingly slow, too slow to make up for how long Draco waited for this. He hissed and his nails dug into George’s scalp, scraping down to the back of his skull, and when George ignored this silent plead, Draco drove his hips forward in punishment.

George gagged. But instead of pulling away he showed Draco that he had the power to take revenge. With his teeth. Draco winced and almost backed away, but George tightened his grip on Draco’s hips, one hand reaching behind Draco.

Draco’s fingers tightened mercilessly in George’s hair, but he did not care about causing pain as long as George was doing the same. And it hurt to have just one finger pressing inside him. Draco’s fear of how much pain something bigger would cause increased with every steady thrust, and it decreased again with George’s mouth still moving. His teeth scraped over sensitive skin in an almost accidental way that had Draco wondering how often George had done this before. But he was not the one who should complain about a lack of experience.

And he hoped that George would not complain about it, when Draco came at the first light brush of fingertips against his prostate. The darkness around him seemed to suddenly explode with light and Draco realised just a second later that he had closed his eyes. Since it was not making much of a difference he kept them closed, trying to enjoy every slowly dying spark of pleasure that had shortly before burned his insides.

His legs were weak and when George released him Draco slumped to the floor, sucking in great lungfuls of air. The sounds of George undressing crawled into his dizzy mind.

“Come here,” George said. Hands searched for his shoulders or arms or just his body, but Draco did not care and impatiently moved forwards, feeling the skin of heated thighs burning between his legs when he straddled George’s lap.

When one arm came around Draco’s waist, he leaned forward against George’s chest. He felt safe, protected, and like the worst evil in the world could walk in now and hiss its killing curse in vain at him. He knew it was stupid to feel like this but it felt too good to even try suppressing such emotions.

“George…” The name was another plea for the kiss George immediately offered him – once again hitting Draco’s cheek. Their lips met after Draco framed George’s face, tongues sliding together sensuously in a tangle, and when George pulled away to concentrate on not causing too much pain while pushing in, Draco continued to lap greedily at George’s mouth.

It hurt. And it did not. At least it was not comparable to all the pain Draco had suffered for his failure. This ached and throbbed, felt more full and warm, and when George shoved against him with a little more force Draco moaned once more in pleasure.

“It’s okay,” George said breathlessly, probably mistaking pleasure for pain, or just expecting Draco to feel pain, but how could that possibly be a hindrance when it was experienced with George? “Take your time. Move whenever you’re ready.”

Draco sighed. “Is that an order?”

George panted more than he laughed. “Not now, Draco.” And to make sure Draco would shut up George kissed him again.

Draco could have stayed like this forever, but he felt George impatiently twitching underneath him. He found himself smirking at obviously holding all the power now. Slowly, he pushed himself up and down, until sweet whimpering noises left George’s mouth, promptly swallowed by Draco’s hungry kiss.

The climax that creeped up on George was a surprise for Draco. It seemed to happen so fast, without him being able to enjoy pleasuring George thoroughly. He wondered how long George had been waiting for this.

When Draco opened his eyes it was still dark around them, so he allowed himself to lean forward and nestle his temple against George’s shoulder. They were both still wearing their shirts, but their robes and trousers had been forgotten somewhere on the floor, and Draco wished they had added the rest of their clothing to them. His fingers scooted under George’s shirt, finding an undershirt there that was sweaty and glued to George’s skin.

He was too exhausted to free George from all these clothes now and instead stilled. George kissed his jaw and throat, and Draco was sure he would find his lips when he really wanted to. This was very nice, so Draco stayed even longer in this position – wrapped up in George’s protective arms.

Eventually, George cleared his throat. “I need to… uhm…”

“Hmm?” Draco pulled back and opened his eyes. The shock was huge when he realised that the darkness had slowly started to disappear. Through a small window next to the door that apparently led to George’s flat, the light of freshly fallen snow cut heavy slices through the darkness and slowly enlightened George’s strangely pale face.

It was like the light not only destroyed the darkness but any feeling of safety. Draco felt vulnerable and quickly reached for his clothes, trying to cover every red spot that gave away his attachment and shame. George looked stunned because Draco slipped away from him so easily, but he did not try to hold Draco back.

“You need to go and have a happy Christmas with your family, I get that.” Draco pulled his trousers up and threw his robes over his shoulders when he was on the stairs. He stopped and slowly turned his head.

George looked away. “Yeah…” He reached for his clothes, trying to cover his bare legs. “Happy Christmas,” he said, and Draco wanted to reply with his mouth already turning upwards when the next word killed any hint of a smile. “Malfoy.”

Draco snorted and turned to leave. “Thanks, Boss.”

~*~
5 months to go…

With a sigh Draco stared at the bottle of love potion he had been carrying around for a month now. Every time he was close to returning to his lovesick-teenager-stares he pulled it out and remembered the promise he had broken right after making it. It helped him to avoid George. And thankfully something kept George from approaching him as well.

Until now…

“Do you plan to give that love potion to the pygmy puffs?”

Draco would have turned around but the breathing on his neck stopped him. He looked down into the cage and uncorked the bottle.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s quite nasty to let them screw around without love,” Draco said dryly. He moved to let some of the love potion drip on the expectant, outstretched tongue of a pygmy puff, but George grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“And forcing them to love each other is better?” He tugged on Draco’s arm, urging him to turn around. When Draco did he was forced look in surprisingly warm brown eyes – and that scared him more than the familiar hardness. “I think they’re intelligent enough to pick a pygmy puff they like for this.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that there is more in their heads than cuddling.”

George laughed, rather hoarsely, but since it was already a rarity to see him laugh Draco did not care. It was a pity that the unflattering seriousness eventually returned to George’s face.

“Why are you down here?” Draco finally managed, coming closer to the question that had lain so heavy on his shoulders since George had started to avoid him. Why he could not have simply asked why George had not come down sooner, he did not know…

“I…” George let go of Draco’s hand to cover his mouth while clearing his throat. “I wanted to ask you why you… why… why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m working down here. You know where to find me.” Draco closed the bottle of love potion, at first focusing on it, then on the pygmy puff cage. “If you had anything to tell me you could –” A kiss kept Draco from finishing his sentence. George pulled away when Draco was still fighting with his surprise.

“You… uhm…” George pointed at his lips. “It looks just irresistible when you purse your lips when you try hard to focus on something.”

Draco took a step backwards and wiped his hand over his mouth. “That’s sexual harassment, Boss. I think somewhere in those papers there was something about you not being allowed to force me into any sexual activity.”

George nodded. “So, you think I took advantage of my position to –”

“No, that’s what you think,” Draco burst in. “You think I only did it to ensure my stay here. But guess what? I just liked getting laid. Not many thoughts behind it…”

Strangely enough, George was smiling. “I like that,” he said, causing Draco to frown, “That you finally dared to speak like that to me again. It only needed some sex to achieve it.”

Draco opened his mouth, but instead of responding he only exhaled. With a smirk he turned back to the cage. He frowned as he noticed the strange bulge on one pygmy puff.

George had apparently followed his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“I think it worked,” Draco said and pulled the pygmy puff out of the cage. It lay still on his palm when he presented it to George. “A pregnant pygmy puff.”

George grinned. “Took you long enough,” he said, examining the pygmy puff closely.

“Because all those bloody things you gave me to experiment with were male. It took me weeks to figure out that I turned a dozen pygmy puffs gay.”

Again, George laughed and this time it was not hoarse. He laughed whole heartily and even held his stomach. Draco huffed pointedly at this. George tried to calm down. He straightened and stroked the purple fur of the pygmy puff in Draco’s hand.

“You know…” George’s fingers started moving over Draco’s hand instead of the pygmy puff. “Valentine’s Day is approaching…”

“Do you need more love potion?”

“Only if I need a bottle to make you go out with me.”

Draco’s eyes widened at George’s request and he turned away before he could blush too much. Clearing his throat, he walked to the table and put the pygmy puff down to give it some extra attention.

“I…” Draco looked back at George. “It might be possible that I can forget about you being my boss, then… but only if you can do the same.”

George shrugged. “I think I can manage that.”

~*~
4 months to go…

Draco had never been this nervous before a date. He did not know George that well and was unsure what they would do on Valentine’s Day. His usual black robes would hopefully be all right, but since George was still a Weasley, Draco doubted they would do anything highly culturally valuable.

Maybe he was overdressed…

Draco hated being so nervous – he was unable to sit down and wait for George to pick him up from all the nervousness. Instead he walked back and forth in the cellar, throwing glances up the stairs every few second.

The squeaks of the pygmy puffs had increased and, slowly but surely, annoyed Draco. He had separated the growing number of pregnant ones from the ones fooling around and the ones that remained in the cellar until someone bought them, but it had not helped to decrease the noise.

When Draco decided to check on things before departing, he noticed smaller balls of fur rolling around in the cage. Draco quickly walked over to the cage and bent over it. His eyes instantly grew to the size of Bludgers.

The small balls were rolling out of a large pygmy puff, one after another, and there seemed to be no end. The other pygmy puffs cleaned the slightly sticky fur of the smaller balls with their large tongues, pulling them out of the way so that new ones could fill the cage.

Draco could not look away. It was like a horrible accident… did he just call the miracle of birth an accident? Draco shook his head and decided to help the pygmy puff. But when his hand reached into the cage the pygmy puff started squeaking in such a high tone that Draco’s ears started ringing.

It would have been all right for him to just step back and watch the pygmy puffs instinctively taking care of each other, but suddenly another pygmy puff started squeaking in that high-pitched tone.

Draco watched wide-eyed when more small balls came out of another pygmy puff. The cage was slowly filling with furry balls in all colours. Draco had to do something.

He Summoned a box, and after hexing a comfortable floor, he hovered the baby pygmy puffs out of the cage and into the box.

“Draco? Are you still down there?” George’s voice called for him from the stairs. Then there were footsteps coming closer. “What the fuck are those?”

“Baby pygmy puffs,” Draco was unable to say more. Helplessly, he pointed at the countless fur balls.

“Oh, no…” George also sounded like the miracle of birth seemed more like an accident. “And I already sent the others home. Give me a box. We need to separate them.”

Draco did as he was told, but he could not hide his disappointment. “And our date?”

George was too busy with the pygmy puffs to throw Draco a simple look. “You’re not running away. Those, on the other hand, could roll away.” He laughed while pulling a handful of baby pygmy puffs out of the cage. “Look at them! Aren’t they cute? Maybe we should sell them right away? What do you think?” He beamed at Draco, as though it did not matter to him at all how nervous Draco had been, how much time he had spent thinking about this day…

“Why do you care about my opinion? I’m just the potions slave.” Draco scowled forcefully at George, hoping that like this the realisation would settle that something had gone wrong. “I’m not even running away.”

George moved back to his task of separating the babies from the grown-up pygmy puffs. Draco waited in vain for an answer.

“You do know that I have a life outside this cellar?” Draco was not interested in letting George get away with this. “I could’ve spent Valentine’s Day with someone else.”

George chuckled.

“There could be someone else.” Draco flushed from the amused glance George flashed to him over his shoulder.

“Help me, Draco. We need more boxes.”

Draco flicked his wand, watching a box magically folding in the air. “You don’t take this serious.”

“Hello? Millions of baby pygmy puffs?” George waited a moment for Draco to return his smile, then went back to the pygmy puffs.

Now Draco waited more than just a moment for George to say more, but nothing came, and he started wondering if he should just leave. Was George honestly expecting that Draco would stay here in the dark cellar instead of enjoying the great weather, just because he was busy with a pygmy puff nursery? Draco had regular work schedules. George could not suddenly change those. Not just because he believed Draco was in love with him.

Draco was determined and ready to leave when George turned around. The baby pygmy puffs had wrapped their already quite long tongues around his face and George struggled to free himself. Draco smiled. He rolled his eyes and sat down to help George. Removing tongue after tongue revealed the grin on George’s face, and after Draco had thrown the last pygmy puff into the box, he returned the grin.

“Cute, aren’t they?” George pulled a box full of furry balls into his lap and looked lovingly into it. “They’ll make me rich.”

Draco laughed and forgot everything about leaving. He moved closer to George and leant against his shoulder while watching the cuddling pygmy puffs. George seemed to misunderstand this as a desire to cuddle; he swung his arm around Draco and pulled him closer, so that Draco could only rest his head on George’s shoulder.

“What’ll we do with them?” Draco stroked the purple and pink balls, distracting himself from the comfortable sensation he began to notice. He was sitting on the cold floor in the cellar – he should not feel comfortable.

“I’m not quite sure. We need to find a place for them,” George said and covered Draco’s hand with his. Underneath their fingers the pygmy puffs purred as though they were still being stroked. “Any ideas?”

“You seriously care about my opinion?” Draco understood now how the pygmy puffs immediately started purring when their fur was stroked, because George’s fingers generated a pleasant tickling on the back of Draco’s hand. “Since when?”

“Since you gifted me these babies. We’re a little family now.”

Draco elbowed George and looked away to hide his smile, but he could not escape George’s tight embrace. Not that he wanted to. George was in a good mood. It was a rarity to see him laugh and make jokes, and that Draco had triggered this in him felt brilliant.

“A huge family, actually. Typical Weasley, too many children to take care of,” Draco said, and in the middle of the sentence his voice started shaking. Such comments about George’s family had mostly led to George punching Draco and right now his hand on Draco’s shoulder tightened its grip. The ice they walked on was apparently thinner than Draco had thought.

George put the box with pygmy puffs on the ground. “Please, don’t… don’t talk about my family. Not like that.”

“It wasn’t… I was just joking,” Draco admitted and strangely enough he was telling the truth. Insulting George gave him absolutely no pleasure anymore.

“I know!” George crawled to the pygmy puff cage, grabbing the exhausted new mother. He examined it for any traces of trauma. “I know, but this is already very hard for me. You’re Draco Malfoy after all. I hate Draco Malfoy.”

“Do you ask everyone you hate out on a date?” Draco could not keep this remark to himself. He was hurt by George’s words.

“You’re not… you’re different. I don’t know!” George used his wand to clean the pygmy puff carefully and he seemed glad that he could focus on something other than Draco. “I don’t even know if you’re always like this. Can’t you understand that I’m confused? And I’m scared that evil little git in you comes back and this is all a charade.” He sat the pygmy puff back in the cage and turned to Draco, looking like he expected a similar speech. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

Draco lowered his eyes, the echo of ‘I hate Draco Malfoy’ still filling his head. “Can I go home now?”

George scooted closer, shoving boxes full of pygmy puffs out of his way. “No,” he said and pulled Draco into his arms. “You promised to spend Valentine’s Day with me. Let’s take care of the babies and then get out of here, yeah?”

Draco raised his hands and hesitantly returned the hug. “Yeah… okay.” He did not want to break the embrace and was glad that George rubbed his back comfortingly. It was nice to be enveloped by this warm feeling that he might be something more to George. But that one sentence generated more painful emotions the longer Draco thought about it.

“Hey…” George’s hand stopped near Draco’s pocket. “What’s this?” Amusement glittered in George’s eyes as he pulled a small bottle out of Draco’s pocket. But when he realised what the liquid inside was, the warmth in his brown eyes cooled down. “Love potion?”

Draco’s embarrassment prickled hot in his cheeks. “Yeah…” He smiled and reached for the bottle. “Give it back.”

“So you can let it slip over my tea cup?” George shoved Draco away and got to his feet. He held the bottle against the source of light in the cellar. Draco was too surprised to answer immediately. “I should’ve known right away… that feeling of obsession, the huge attraction all of a sudden, it’s another safety precaution of yours!” George whirled around and Draco finally found his voice again, but he did not dare use it when George threw the bottle on the ground. It broke into small pieces, the shiny liquid splashing over the floor. “You thought making me fall for you would be the easiest way to get through your community service!”

Draco shook his head as if he were in slow motion, but George did not care to wait for an explanation. He pointed at the stairs.

“Get out of here. Now!”

Draco stumbled to his feet. “You are completely over–”

“Piss off, Malfoy!” George almost stepped into a box of squeaking pygmy puffs and Draco was sure that, without the boxes, George’s fist would have thrown him back to the ground. “Be glad that I can’t fire you, because now I definitely would.”

Despite those words Draco had to scrape all of his courage together to call George a “Bastard” before hurrying away.

~*~
3 months to go…

Percy Weasley’s new office appeared to be bigger and Draco hoped that this was a sign that his influence had increased as well.

“I only have three months to go, there must be another option.” Draco stood in front of Percy’s desk, hands splayed on the files that were spread on the expensive wood. “Don’t force me to beg, Weasley.”

Percy’s expression had already changed from amused to disbelieving, but finally he appeared to take Draco seriously. “Exactly, Mr. Malfoy. You have only three months of community service left. Stay at George’s. He was very content with you. Do you want to risk losing an acceptable working atmosphere by changing your place of work?”

“I’ve tried,” Draco reassured. “But it’s not acceptable anymore. I know that it’s my own responsibility to deal with these huge antipathies, but I, too, am only human. I can’t take it anymore. Your brother’s humiliating me all the time. He’s sneaking into my cellar to… to… it’s not fair!” Draco slumped exhaustedly into a chair, flicking his dishevelled hair back behind his ear.

Percy’s eyes wandered searchingly over Draco. “It can’t be that bad.”

Draco placed a hand over his eyes to shield himself from Percy’s gaze.

“George has changed. He isn’t humiliating you just for the fun of it. Something must’ve happened.” Percy cleared his throat. “I mean, you seemed to be on good terms.”

Draco wondered what George had told his family if Percy believed this. “I used to believe that too, but your brother is… emotionally unstable to an amount I can’t even put into words.”

“He lost his twin,” Percy said, not without choking on the last word. “Please keep that in mind. And also remember that George… he needs your help. It’s difficult to find someone with a hand for potions and he says that you’re doing a great job. You’re fast, reliable, and inventive. Don’t tell me helping someone you harmed doesn’t feel redeeming.”

The truth was that Draco felt nothing more than pain as soon as he entered Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. George’s looks were no longer like a prickling heat crawling through his body, but like knives ripping his chest open and boring into his heart.

“Your brother…” Draco inhaled deeply. “He doesn’t want to like me. He searches for excuses when he feels the slightest spark of affection. Do you know how that feels? If someone is disgusted by liking you? I think I rather go to Azkaban than try to bear that.”

Percy blinked at him, took off his glasses and massaged his eyes. “I can’t believe what you’re saying…”

Draco could not either, but he also could not believe that anything was more torturous than George’s repellent behaviour. It had already brought tears to his eyes, especially when he thought about everything they had shared.

“Is… is Azkaban a possibility?”

~*~

“Percy told me about your stupid plan.” George entered the cellar and joined Draco at the large table. “Are you completely mental?”

Draco threw the finely chopped ginger root in the cauldron. “Is that a rhetoric question?”

“I’m serious,” George said, taking hold of Draco’s hand to keep him away from the ingredients and probably also the silver knife. “You’re considering spending two and a half months in Azkaban? You can’t do this!”

“You’ll manage the few potions alone, Boss. I’m sure,” Draco said. A warm sensation trickled from his wrist to his forearm from George’s touch. Draco tried to jerk his wrist free, but the strong fingers easily held him.

“Why?” George pulled Draco against him. “Why?”

Draco steadied himself by pressing a hand on George’s chest. “What do you think?” He scowled angrily, but George did not move a single inch away. He stayed unnecessarily close and lifted his other hand to Draco’s cheek.

George’s eyes flickered to Draco’s mouth and the way he leant over was unmistakable. “Don’t,” George said, the word not more than a tickling breath out of his lips.

Draco turned his head to the side. The kiss landed on his cheek.

“I don’t see much of a difference between this dark cellar where you try to drive me insane and a dark cell where only the screams of my former Death Eater colleagues try the same.” Draco was relieved that those words were sufficient enough to make George step away. “It’s ten weeks. I won’t die… and you get rid of me.”

George grimaced like he was in pain. “Am I so horrible?”

“Is that a rhetoric question?” Draco’s voice cracked. “You accused me of slipping you love potion. I’ve never… never…” He closed his eyes because tears suddenly welled up, burning like fire in his eyes. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve ruined my life. But I don’t deserve so much hate.” He hated himself for the small teardrop escaping his eye when he looked at George again. “I didn’t kill your brother.”

George was remarkably pale, freckles standing out prominently. He opened his mouth, and like a fish out of water, he closed it soundlessly.

Draco wiped the tear away, loathing himself for losing his last remaining bit of pride. “Leave me alone,” he demanded. George did not obey. “Please…” And George finally moved, but instead of leaving he grabbed Draco and crushed their lips together.

Draco whimpered, trying to turn away from George’s mouth, but it seemed to be everywhere. His cheeks, jaw and throat were an equally good selection for George and the needy kisses gradually softened Draco up.

George reached Draco’s ear. “Stay with me,” he whispered and closed his arms breathtakingly tight around Draco. “I need you. I just need time… a wee bit more time…”

Draco was caged between the table and George, the strong arms crushing him. “N-No, I don’t… I can’t.”

Distraught, George released Draco, but he pressed his lips once more against Draco’s ear. “Please, stay here. Azkaban is no solution. And it would… I’d feel guilty. I’d be bloody afraid that something would happen to you there. Don’t do this to me, Draco.”

“You’re such a selfish bastard,” Draco muttered but nodded. “Okay, I stay. Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

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