pekeleke

Title: An Unexpected Truce.
Author: Pekeleke
Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.
Rating: M
Challenge: Written for the adventdrabbles 2021. Prompt #6: Cat playing with wrapping paper.
Word Count: 976
Warnings: Explicit Language. Dramatic Draco. Humor.
Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and the HP franchise are owned by JKR and not me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
A/N: Unbeated. Ch 6 of my Christmas Series: Threatening To Love You.
Summary: “Draco pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. He'd decided to be pleasant to Potter after receiving that sweet letter on Sunday, but their five-seconds-old encounter is already going pear-shaped.”

An Unexpected Truce.

Draco had been pleased to hear that Juliet had not only managed to secure the twenty-five blasted goats the idiots from Games&Sports wanted at their Christmas soiree, but she'd also used her charms to ensure that a super-hot goatherd called Brian will attend the event to mind them.

Like Draco himself, Juliet is present at every event their department organizes for the ministry. Their senior position requires long hours, endless parties, and more interdepartmental elbow-rubbing than any sane person should want, but both happen to be social butterflies. Draco takes after his mother in that regard, and Juliet takes after hers.

Usually, Draco and Juliet attend work-related soirees together, but since she hopes to lure Brian home at the end of the evening -Draco doesn't want to know where the man will stash the goats- Draco is now inconveniently dateless for the event, and in a terrible rush to find himself a suitable companion. He tried going solo at the beginning of his tenure as head of the department, only to be hounded by every ugly bachelor who holds a similar position within the ministry.

By twelve-thirty, Draco is starting to panic. His third, fourth and fifth in command all have plans for that evening and can't accompany him. And none of his friends are available.

Draco is so distressed that he foregoes lunch at his favorite bistro and heads to the ministry's canteen. He has a delicate palate and panders to it religiously. But, every now and then, when he feels especially apathetic, Draco ends up eating terrible food with the likes of Percy Weasley.

Someone pinned a cute photograph of a cat playing with wrapping paper to the left of the menu. As far as Draco is concerned, that's the only appealing thing in the place today. The salad under the glass display is wilted, the shepherd's pie mashed potato is burned, the soup is an unappealing green goo, and Draco can't even identify the stuff on the last container.

He steps hastily out of the queue and walks towards the free-standing refrigerator where those who don't want a hot meal can purchase cold sandwiches. Once there, Draco discovers that the only variety left is cheese and pickle. The prospect of consuming such a thing when he's chairing a meeting in two hours makes him shiver in disgust. He will not speak in public with an oniony breath.

"Hullo, Malfoy," Potter's voice startles him out of the grim realization that he's doomed himself to starve until dinnertime. Although Draco tries his best not to jump too visibly in reaction, Potter still catches him at it, "Sorry if I scared you. I thought you'd heard me coming."

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. He'd decided to be pleasant to Potter after receiving that sweet letter on Sunday, but their five-seconds-old encounter is already going pear-shaped. He takes a deep breath and tries to smile at the git. Draco had liked his note, after all, "I thought you're calling me Draco now. Or is such familiarity only acceptable on letters?"

Potter blinks at him stupidly, "Y-you'd let me call you Draco to your face?"

Draco shrugs, "It's better than calling me a Grinch."

"I never called you that," Potter huffs.

"That's not what I remember."

"That's because I fucked it up, as usual, and you jumped to the wrong conclusion, also as usual."

Draco stares curiously at Potter, "What were you trying to say, then?"

"I wanted to call you ch-charming," Potter stutters adorably. Draco's first instinct is to narrow his eyes suspiciously and glare at him. Potter glares right back in challenge. Draco sighs, shakes his head, and tells himself he'd liked the idiot's note. It's tough to remember with Potter staring at him obnoxiously.

"The cake you sent looked awful," Draco bitches, and feels inexplicably guilty when Potter's shoulders drop with disappointment, "I'm sorr-

"You were right, though," Draco hurries to console him, "It tasted nice. I- I finished it already."

Potter's face lights up like a Christmas tree, "Y-you liked it? I could make you another. If you want. I— er I've got all the ingredients at home."

Draco bites his bottom lip anxiously. He's not sure he can trust Potter's intentions. They've been arch-rivals for too long. It'd be the height of stupidity to take Potter's change of heart at face value, "Why?" he asks distrustfully.

Potter looks thoroughly confused, "Er— I bought a lot of everything when I went to the shop. I wanted to have enough ingredients to practice the recipe until it came out right."

"You should have practiced more."

Potter gasps, outraged, "You just said it tasted good, Malf— er Draco!"

Draco can't help but smirk, "I also said it looked terrible, Potter."

"Harry. If you're insulting the cake I slaved over for an entire afternoon, the least you can do is call me Harry," Potter growls.

"Whatever. Harry." Draco drawls, and Potter's mutinous look dissolves into a delighted grin so fast that Draco feels disoriented. The world must be about to end. The savior is smiling sweetly at him, and nothing has exploded yet.

"You're such a git," Pott—er Harry says, and Draco finds his childish complaint reassuring enough to stick his hand out in greeting.

"That's me, Draco 'The Git' Malfoy. Will you shake my hand this time around, Pott-er Harry?"

"Merlin, Yes!" Potter says enthusiastically, grasping his hand hurriedly, like he thinks it'll disappear.

Draco stares at their entwined hands in utter shock. In all honesty, he hadn't expected Potter to take him seriously, "Is this a truce?" He asks quietly, too terrified of the answer to look Potter in the eye.

"Yes. This is a truce," Potter replies firmly, and the smile in his voice is unmistakable.

Draco looks up, thoroughly flustered, and sends a wobbly smile back.

TBC.

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