Summary: Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement—and financial gain—of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister’s office, they can’t work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn’t it?
Excerpt: “Potter, have you fucked him yet?”
“No, but he drank all my beer last night.”
Zabini swears. “See that you get a leg over before the end of the day. I have Galleons riding on it.”
“I wouldn’t mind riding on it,” Draco calls back over his shoulder, loud enough so everyone can hear, “but Potter won’t have me. He’s saving himself for his true love again.”
There’s a titter from the administrative bullpen behind me.
“I’m saving us all for the election,” I shout back at Draco, but all I get is two fingers flicked back at me before he turns the corner. Bastard.
This fic is so fucking perfect in every possible way I can’t even—