Later Draco would wonder if a sudden burst of female hormones had him acting as he did, because if he had been himself? He surely wouldn't have acted the way he did. He wanted to harm Jonson. He wanted to claw the man's eyes out. How dare he mock him?!
He let loose a frustrated growl as he was restrained. He would have fought, except for the feel of a hard and obviously masculine body touching his, and the familiarity of that blasted voice. It calmed him - as in dampened the rage a bit via complete mortification. Not only was he being restrained from harming a co-worker, he was being restrained by bloody Potter. Potter was seeing him as a female, and losing control. Bloody hell.
"Yes I damn well can! He's my assistant, and I can damn well do as I please with him," he snarled, feeling slightly gleeful at the fearful look the words brought up on Jonson face as he suddenly took to fleeing, as well as the snickering of fellow employees at his retreat.
He was still in Harry's grasp and turned his head to the side a bit, looking back at him. "If you're quite done rubbing up against me, Potter, you can release me. I wont kill him... this time." He waited until he was released and then stood straight to his whole five feet and six inches of height and straightened his dress and cloak. He then glared at the peons forced to work on a weekend.
"You are not being paid to gawk! Get your arses back to work!" Not that he had much clout, mind you, but he was a Malfoy! All had to respect or fear him! On dainty feet he stomped his way toward his office. How lucky were those who did work and held offices in the classified section of this floor, away from prying eyes and idiot Aurors.