Changing the Password
by KC
Summary: short ficlet as Harry and Draco trudge home in the rain
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
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Raindrops droned on Harry's umbrella, big raindrops that seemed to shake the black cloth with every hit. His head and shoulders were mostly dry, but the main benefit of his umbrella was keeping the rain from hitting him directly. He adjusted his grip on the handle for a better angle.
"Watch where you tilt that thing!"
Harry quickly pulled his umbrella upright again, but he used it to hide his rueful smile. "Sorry about that."
Beside him, Draco shied away and tried to pretend that the rain dripping off the umbrella made him any wetter. His clothes clung to him as he shivered and tightly hugged himself. The black clouds turned the world uncomfortably dark, and he had the feeling that he was surrounded by dementors always on the edge of his vision.
Harry held the umbrella up a few inches. "You could always come under it with me—"
"No," Draco muttered, but it didn't have the force of his previous replies. He kept his head down and stumbled over the uneven sidewalk, occasionally stepping in deep puddles that made him wince. He instinctively flinched as a group of muggle children ran by in yellow raincoats, their laughter loud enough to drown out the rain for a moment.
"I want to go home," he moaned, stamping his foot once. "I'm tired and wet and cold and it's all your fault."
Harry didn't answer. Draco acted as if complaining helped warm him up. Plus, his spoiled brat was right. If Harry hadn't forgotten the password to their house wards, they could have simply apparated into their warm living room. And if he didn't change it so often out of paranoia, then the old password Draco remembered would have worked just as well.
"All your fault," Draco mumbled. His steps came slower and slower as he dragged his feet. He couldn't even cast a spell to warm himself out here where anyone could see. The tip of his wand lay close to his heart beneath his coat which was really a transfigured robe. He refused to wear muggle clothes.
A few more minutes of tramping through puddles brought them to the iron fence that none of the muggles could see. As soon as Harry touched the gate, the charms on it unlocked and allowed them in. While Draco hurried up the steps and under the porch, stripping off his soaked coat, Harry changed the password at the gate.
As Harry followed him in, shaking off his umbrella and gathering the coat from the floor, he knew he was lucky Draco had left the door open for him. He hung up their coats and toed out of his shoes, then followed the lit lumos charms in the hall to their bedroom. Draco had already stripped and stepped into the shower, and Harry listened to the water as he waited.
It didn't take long. Despite the rumors about his lover's hedonism, Draco spent little time in the shower. Battle scars from curses and jinxes were not something he liked being reminded of. With wisps of steam following him out, Draco walked out of the bathroom through the bedroom, his black robe wrapped tight around himself, without even glancing in his direction. Harry sighed. Draco wasn't going to calm down anytime soon.
In fact, it was well past sunset by the time Draco seemed calm. He lounged in front of their hearth, warmed by the fire blazing behind the screen, a heavy book sprawled in his lap. A bowl of No-Calorie chocolates sat beside his knee. Harry watched him from the kitchen as he waited for the milk to come to a boil. The book must have been enthralling. Draco hadn't noticed his robe slipping off his shoulder, revealing an ugly raised scar that slashed over his back and disappeared.
Harry wished he could remove those scars, not because he thought they made Draco ugly like his lover often claimed, but because he'd made so many of them. He carried a few of his own from Draco, but the war had gone on for years before Draco had turned, and Harry had always been a better duelist.
With a mug of hot chocolate in each hand, Harry carefully picked his way over Draco's scattered notes and set a mug down beside the bowl, then sat down behind his lover. He had his own book, a light adventure novel instead of the heavy academic work Draco favored, and for several minutes they quietly read, listening to the fire crackle and the rain hitting the windows.
As expected, Draco leaned back against Harry. "What's the new password?"
"Harry doesn't deserve Draco," was the reply.
"Damn straight," Draco said, but there was no anger in his voice. He continued to lean against Harry, his book forgotten for the moment, as he basked in the warmth like a snake, sighing in contentment.
end