I don't own the characters, J.K. Rowling does
If you don't approve of the Draco and Harry pairing, please don't read
Chapter 1
Draco Malfoy sat at his kitchen table and stared out of the window. "Where the bloody hell could he be?" he grumbled. "It doesn't take this long to disapparate." He stood up and started pacing again. At 9:30, he heard a pop in the front yard and hurried back to the window. There stood Harry Potter, late, and looking as if he could sleep for a month. Draco walked into the living room and turned to face the front door.
"Oh, Draco! I'm ho—" Harry stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his lover. His arms were folded, his eyes were cold, and his foot was tapping.
"I've been waiting for an hour and a half," Draco said quietly. Then he started to get louder with every few words. "I clean your house, make your bed, cook your dinner, and you don't even have the common courtesy to let me know when you're going to be 90 MINUTES LATE!"
"Jeesh, Draco! Calm down! I was just—
Draco stomped his foot on the ground with his hands balled up as fists at his sides. "I'm NOT looking for excuses Potter!"
"Did you just stomp your foot?"
"Yes – no – maybe," Draco stuttered. "But that's not important! I let it slide yesterday, but today is different! I spent all day making your favorite beef stew, and you weren't even here to enjoy it! My blood, sweat, and tears went into it, and you don't even care!"
"Now you're just being dramatic."
"No, I'm serious! The sweat was from standing over a hot stove all day, tears from the onions, and blood from cutting my finger while cutting the onions!"
"Um…"
"And you WILL eat the leftovers until they are completely gone, and nothing else! AND you will be sleeping on the couch until I say otherwise!"
"Draco,"
"I HAVE SPOKEN!"
"Okay, fine," Harry held up his hands in surrender.
After eating his dinner, Harry went upstairs to see if he could reason with Draco. It probably wouldn't work, but he decided it was worth a shot. When he reached the bedroom, Draco was lying down and reading the Evening Prophet. Here goes nothing, thought Harry. "Draco, you know I –" he was interrupted as the pillow Draco threw hit him in the face. "Draco, I didn't me –" A blanket had been thrown over his head. Giving up, Harry turned to leave, but tripped over the blanket as it dragged on the floor. He heard Draco snort, but when he got up to look Draco's nose was already back in his newspaper. But no matter how much he tried to hide it, Harry could tell Draco was trying very hard not to laugh at his stupidity. Downstairs, as Harry was trying to make the couch as comfortable as magic would allow, he heard Draco bursting with laughter. Harry sighed and tried to ignore the painful throbbing in his head and get some sleep.