Attractive Nuisance
By RavynFayre

I had been working at the Nimbus Corporation for five years, but only
promoted to my new position six months ago. Now the company president had
left it up to me to decide which model we would introduce next. My
secretary, Miranda, was beside herself. She had been amazingly supportive
since I took the job, and enjoyed bragging to her friends about how she just
knew I was "going places."

She popped her head in my door and announced, "Mr. Weasley, you have a
visitor."

"Who?" I checked my calendar and saw no appointments for the rest of the
day.

"Guess?" she asked, plastering on her most sincere fake smile and batting her
eyelashes impishly. That could only mean one person.

I didn't even make it out of my chair before he strode into the room, rife
with confidence and familiarity. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, in
tailored pants with creases sharp as a knife and a long-sleeved button-down
shirt. I walked around my desk, extending my hand in welcome, warm smile
firmly in place. "Draco, so good to see you again."

My friendly greeting was ignored as Draco dropped into one of the plush
chairs opposite my desk. "You simply *must* do something about the colours,
Weasley."

"Colours?" I asked. He had once again managed to completely baffle me.

"The colours of bloody broomsticks," he spat, seeming surprised I hadn't been
able to read his mind. "Brown. Dark brown. Darker brown. Black. Shiny
black. Matte black. Fucking boring is what they are."

Colours. This was a new one. Last time it had been chafed fingers. We had
released a special limited edition model with an intricate design cut into
the handle. Deciding to forego the typical inlaid embossing, we instead went
with a raised design. Hence, the allegedly chafed fingers.

Normally, a visit like this would have me rolling on the floor, unable to
contain my laughter. A visit from Malfoy, though, could hardly be considered
normal, even though he had visited me twice a month every month since I took
this job as Vice President of Development.

"I assume you had something specific in mind?" I asked, eyebrow crooked in
anticipation.

"Deep, metallic green. Silver would be good, too."

Why doesn't that surprise me? I thought. "Well, Draco," I said, using my
most benevolent smile. "I'll be sure to bring up your suggestions at our
next staff meeting."

"And when will that be?" Draco asked.

"Friday."

"Good." He nodded, seemingly satisfied that he accomplished his mission.
Except that he didn't appear to be leaving.

"Something else I can do for you?" I offered.

"No," Draco said, thumb stroking his lower lip thoughtfully. "No. I believe
that will be all. For now." He rose and exited as quickly as he had
entered, leaving my office door standing wide open.

Miranda craned her head back in the door, her eyebrows arched in question.
"Colours," I told her, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face. She
smiled in sympathy and pulled the door closed.

~*~*~*~*~*

Friday evening, and Helga's Homestyle Restaurant was packed to the brim, with
a 30 minute wait for a table. I ate alone at a table for two, studying
broomstick designs from the newest member of the development team.

"Mr. Weasley." The server tapped me on the shoulder, startling me out of my
concentration. "I hate to ask you this, but we're so full tonight. Would
you mind sharing your table with another party of one?"

"Not at all," I smiled at the girl, collecting the papers I had spread across
the table. "As long as he chews with his mouth closed." She flashed me a
quick smile and held up a finger, indicating she'd be right back.

Normally, I preferred eating alone, one of the advantages of being single and
unattached. But a dinner companion might not be such a bad thing. It could
even prove to be interesting.

"Here we are." The server was back, pulling out the chair opposite me for my
new tablemate.

"Draco?" I asked, taken aback by the sight of the man before me.

"Is there a problem, Weasley?" Draco challenged.

"Not at all." I couldn't decide which surprised me more - the fact that
Draco Malfoy was dining alone, or that he didn't put up more of a fuss upon
learning the identity of his tablemate. "So, Draco, what brings you here?"

"Hunger, Weasley. The same thing that brings anyone here. That is, assuming
I am able to keep my food down."

All he had to do was open his mouth and I was twelve years old again. I
bristled. "No one forced you to sit with me."

"Interesting," Draco said, smirking. "You automatically assumed I was
insinuating something about you. Some things never change, do they,
Weasley?"

"Apparently not. Excuse me?" I motioned toward the server. "Check, please.
And would you wrap this up for me? I'd like to take it with me."

"Leaving so soon?"

"Lost my appetite," I mumbled, sipping from my water glass.

"And taking home what you haven't eaten? Surely that's not necessary. Your
girlfriend can cook, can't she?"

"Don't have one of those."

"Mmmm. Well, come now, Weasley. We're grownups, aren't we? No need to go
running off. Sit. Finish your meal. I promise I'll behave."

"I'd love to see that."

"Stick around." He grinned at me wickedly. "So, what did your fellow suits
think of my idea."

"They loved it," I told him, glad to be changing the subject. "They had
kicked around the idea of a new line with different colours some years ago,
but it never went anywhere. Looks like they're ready for a change now."

"Good," Draco nodded approvingly. "Now, tell me about your job. Are you
enjoying it?"

I shrugged. "For the most part." I looked pointedly at him. "Dealing with
the public can be a bit trying."

"Is that so? Well, I must say, you handle yourself quite well.
Professional, but not officious or stuffy. Friendly and accommodating. I'm
not surprised they hired you."

"Really." I didn't quite know how to handle a compliment from Draco Malfoy.
"Well, that's nice of you to say, Draco. Surprising, coming from you, but
thank you. What about you? The team is doing well this year, thanks to
you."

Draco nodded. "I am having a good time. It's nice to be on a team that wins
occasionally."

I paused, unsure if I should proceed, but wanting to know. "And your
father?"

Draco stiffened. "He's in Azkaban. You know that."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wondered if you and he kept in contact."

"No, we don't," Draco answered curtly. "Would you?"

"No, I suppose I wouldn't," I agreed. "I'm sorry about everything that
happened. You had to deal with a lot of crap just because of your name. I'm
glad to see everything worked out for you."

Draco flashed me a quick smile, and we finished our meals in companionable
silence. The din of the restaurant swirled around us, though we didn't seem
to notice, each lost in our own thoughts.

"Well," Draco said as we exited the restaurant. "That was nice, Weasley. We
should do it again sometime."

"We should," I agreed, surprising both of us.

"I'll be in touch," he said, shaking my hand.

I watched him head off in the night. I wondered what my old Gryffindor
friends would be thinking right now.

~*~*~*~*~*

Miranda burst into my office, slamming the door closed behind her. "He's
here again," she whispered, her eyes darting nervously about the room.

"Who?"

"Him! Mr. Malfoy."

"What? But he was - "

"Just here last week!" She jumped, startled by a noise in the outer office.
She turned back toward the office door as if it might attack her any moment.
"What is his problem, anyway?"

I couldn't help but laugh. I had enjoyed listening to her conspiracy
theories over the many months that Draco had been visiting. I never told her
of our history together at school, though, as I found her conjectures
infinitely more entertaining.

"I couldn't even begin to guess what his problem might be. But it's all
right, Miranda," I assured her. I guided her to the door, patting her on the
back. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

I found Draco closely studying a series of photos that lined the hallway, a
history of the Nimbus Corporation. I wondered what three meetings with Draco
Malfoy in only a week could possibly mean. "Draco. What can I do for you
this afternoon?"

"Lunch, Weasley."

"Lunch?"

"Yes, lunch. The meal that is normally eaten at mid-day? I thought you
might like to join me."

"Oh, right. I'd love to, but I have a luncheon meeting with the other
department heads this afternoon."

"Oh." He actually sounded disappointed. "That's what I get for not calling
ahead, isn't it? What about dinner Friday night?"

"Okay," I agreed, before I could think twice. I found myself enjoying my
little exchanges with Draco, and our dinner at Helga's last Friday night had
been the most fun I'd had in months. All in all, my social life was quite
sad.

"The Manor at 7:00?"

"Looking forward to it." My eyes followed as Draco gave a brief wave and
retreated down the hallway.

~*~*~*~*~*

"What is this?"

"A ticket to Saturday's match. Will you come?" Draco asked.

It felt strange. He'd never really *asked* me as such. He was always
showing up at my office *telling* me where we would be going and what we
would be doing. Not that I had a quarrel with that, it's just that now, here
he was asking me.

"I'd love to."

"The team goes to Hogsmeade after to celebrate. You can come along, if you
like."

"Celebrate? You haven't won yet." I recognized my mistake immediately when
his eyebrows arched sharply in my direction. "But of course you *will* win,
and of course, I'll come."

"Good," he replied. "Our celebrations tend to run quite late. I figured I'd
stay over, get a room at The Three Broomsticks. What about you? Will you
want to head straight home?"

"Sounds like fun. I'll stay."

He seemed both surprised and pleased at my answer. He gave me a quick smile
and a promise. "See you Saturday."

I realized after he'd left - too late, of course - that I had agreed to spend
the night with him. I had no idea what the arrangements were, and I wasn't
quite sure what this meant, and that bothered me. Up to this point, my
thoughts about our relationship had been random at best. I tried to
determine just how Draco and I had come to this. For months, he was simply
an attractive nuisance who came to my office, fussing about this or that.
Then, suddenly, he and I have this unspoken agreement. Or maybe it wasn't so
sudden after all. It's been almost six months since we had that first dinner
together.

We'd fallen into a pattern, having lunch at least twice a week, and dinner
every Friday night. Now, he's invited me to watch him play. Perhaps the
most unusual part of this strange little relationship we have is that I
actually look forward to it. In all my life, I never imagined myself waiting
anxiously to spend time with Draco Malfoy. Maybe we've both finally grown
up.

They did win, of course. A massacre, really. Embarrassing that they won by
such a large margin. Draco, ever the sadist, stretched things out after
sighting the snitch, allowing his team to score another 80 points before he
put the other team's seeker out of his misery.

Back at The Three Broomsticks, Rosmerta threatened to throw the lot of us out
on our arses if we didn't quiet things down. She told me in secret that she
did that solely for the benefit of the other patrons. She didn't want
*everyone* to think they could get away with that kind of behaviour.

I was surprised at how easily I fit into the scheme of things. My own
consuming passion with Quidditch and my inside knowledge about broomsticks
made me an instant success, especially with one of his team's chasers. The
man seemed intent upon making me spill insider secrets of the broomstick
business. His hand started on my knee, and traveled quite a distance up my
thigh. He hadn't moved into forbidden territory, though, and I certainly
didn't want to embarrass Draco, so I tried my best to ignore it. As it
happened, Draco knew exactly what was going on and reached behind me to smack
the back of the man's head. The chaser was too drunk to recognize where the
offending hand came from, and he quickly withdrew his hand from my thigh and
opted for nursing his drink.

I enjoyed watching Draco interact with his teammates. He was obviously in
his element, and they genuinely liked him. It was good to see he'd gotten
past the stigma of his family to make a name for himself.

Draco had introduced me to his teammates simply by name, with no
qualification as to our relationship, and I hated myself that it irritated
me. I was hoping he would give me some kind of clue as to just what was
going on between us, but he failed miserably.

When Rosemerta finally decided she simply had to close up for the night, we
headed upstairs. I had unfortunately put off thinking about this moment all
night. Now I wished I'd thought it out at least a little.

"I had to get a double," Draco said as he unlocked the door to the room. "I
tried to get you your own room, but with most of the team staying here, and
her regular clientele, Rosemerta said she couldn't spare another. I hope
that's all right."

"Fine," I assured him, mentally heaving a sigh of relief when I saw the two
single beds sitting a respectable distance apart. I also felt vaguely
disappointed, but decided I could put off for one more night trying to figure
out just what was happening between us.

Unless, by his own actions, Draco had been trying to tell me all along just
what kind of relationship we had.

~*~*~*~*~*

"How is your lobster?" Draco asked, dipping his own forkful into a cup of
warm butter.

"Incredible," I answered, then let another bite melt on my tongue. "I've
never tasted anything like it."

"Leave it to me, Ron. I'll show you the world."

"I just bet you will." It took my brain a moment to process what he had
said. "Wait a minute. What did you just call me?"

"Ron. It's your name, right?" He crossed his arms and tilted his chair
back. He studied the ceiling as if it were a map. "First, we should go to
Paris. Then Italy. Maybe the Bahamas. Though I suppose you have to be
careful about getting too much sun."

"Sounds like a plan," I chuckled, polishing off my glass of wine.

"So, how much vacation time do you get?"

"I'm starting my sixth year, so I'll get four weeks. Why?"

"The trip, of course,"

"You're serious?" I asked.

"Of course, I am," he replied. "What would make you think otherwise?"

"It's just a little strange don't you think?" I asked, rising from the table.
"I mean, when you think about it. You and I spending so much time
together."

"What's so strange? I thought we had gotten past all that."

"I guess not." I shrugged, and walked out onto the balcony.

"What's going on here?" he asked from the doorway. "I didn't think you'd
agree to spend time with me unless you really wanted to."

"I did," I insisted. "I do. It's just - what's going on here?"

"I don't follow."

"You and me. First, you're just a nuisance at work, then we start going to
lunch, dinner. You invite me here. What's going on?"

He shrugged. "I thought we were friends."

"Friends."

"Right. What did you think we were?"

"I - I- I didn't -," I stuttered, "I just - I wondered what you thought, is
all."

He moved toward me, studying me. His intensity made me nervous. "You want
more, don't you?"

"No," I insisted, backing away. "I just wanted to . . . clarify things, I
suppose. I mean, if we're going to be traveling together, we should be clear
about . . . things."

"I don't believe you," he said. He was close now, very close. He didn't
crowd me, but he wanted to be sure he had my undivided attention. "And
anyway, it's all right. If you want more, that is."

"It is?"

"Of course, it is. I simply didn't want to push. I was happy with your
companionship. I wasn't going to ruin that by jumping you."

"Why me?" I asked quietly. "You and I hated each other for so many years.
Why would you seek me out?"

"I lost track of a lot of people after the war," he said as he crossed his
arms and began pacing. "I frankly didn't think much about you. I just
assumed you'd fallen into some sort of limbo reserved especially for
Weasleys." He chuckled. "Then I saw your photo in The Prophet, after your
promotion. Lo and behold, a Weasley made good. I was honestly impressed."
He suddenly stopped moving to face me again. "I enjoyed giving you a hard
time at first, but you never buckled under, and you were never cruel to me.
You just smiled and shook my hand as if I was a real person. Granted, you
probably laughed your arse off after I left the room. I just assumed we had
both grown up since Hogwarts and I thought we might have a go at it. Let's
be honest, my old Slytherin housemates didn't stick around once Voldemort was
defeated."

"I enjoyed your visits, you know," I confided. "I did have a good laugh now
and then. You surprised me, though, when you kept coming back. And it
surprised me that I looked forward to it. I started wondering what was wrong
with me."

He kept watching me, arms crossed, silver gaze never wavering. A brief smile
touched his lips just before he said, "So, the question still remains. Do
you want more?"

"You're always surprising me. You know that?"

"It's all part of my charm. And you still haven't answered me," he prodded,
taking a step closer.

"I know. I -" Why was I hesitating? My brain was screaming at me to say
yes, but I was rarely known for following my brain.

His smile faded and he backed away suddenly. "If you want to take some time,
feel free." He turned on his heel and headed back into the dining room.

"Wait," I called after him. I found him clearing our dinner dishes from the
table. Fifteen years ago, I would have given away one of my brothers to see
something like this. "No."

"No? You don't want more?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I do. Want more, that is." God, I was a moron.

The stack of dishes in his hands was gently set on the table, and he crossed
over to me. He looked so happy, so content. Smiling so broadly I thought
his face might split open.

"What would our old Hogwarts classmates think about this?" he asked, taking
my hand in his.

"That we've all grown up."

He agreed, drawing me down into a kiss, his palm sliding along the back of my
neck. His lips were soft under mine, gentle yet insistent. I wrapped him in
my arms, surprising myself at how much I wanted this.

This grown up wasn't so bad after all.

~*~*~*~*~*

What Miranda caught sight of in my office the next morning may have forever
cured her of coming in to work early. Draco, leaning across my desk, his
lips attached to mine and his posterior pointed directly at her. She made a
rather unusual noise, some strange strangled squeak or gasp. I thought she
had swallowed her tongue, which she must have thought Draco was trying to do
to me.

"You're . . . he's . . .," Miranda stuttered, jabbing her finger at Draco.

"I'm your boss' boyfriend," Draco clarified.

Her mouth dropped open, eyes ping-ponging between Draco and me. "Really?"
she squeaked.

Draco and I shared a knowing glance and he gave me a short nod. "Yes," I
told her. She looked like she was about to faint dead away.

"Miranda, isn't it?" Draco glided to her and gallantly kissed the back of
her hand. "We'll be seeing quite a lot of each other, my dear." He gave me
a flick of his fingers over his shoulder and was gone.

She studied the back of her hand, her brain slowly making the connection that
the lips that touched her hand just previously been . . . She let out another
squeak and darted from my office, slamming the door closed behind her.

Miranda had been right. I was definitely going places, but I don't think
those places would be anything like either of us had ever imagined.


~*~*~* FIN ~*~*~*

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