So, this story has been in Draco's POV so far (obviously, I hope) but I do intend to introduce Harry's POV later on. These chapters just needed to be told in Draco's voice. :-)
Draco POV
Harry stopped at a door that looked the same as all the others to Draco. Merlin. How am I supposed to find anything on my own? Then he realized that Harry was waiting for him. He opened the door as Draco stepped to his side, gesturing Draco ahead of him.
"This," he said, voice blank, "is the kitchen. And this – "
There was a resounding crack, and the dirtiest, ugliest, most menacing house-elf Draco had ever seen materialized before him, meat cleaver in hand. Draco cowered – he couldn't help it – as the… thing advanced on him, yellow eyes glaring.
Harry stepped neatly in front of Draco, meeting the House-elf's glare with one of his own. " – is Kreacher. My house-elf," he said, emphasizing the possessive.
The – Kreacher – continued to glare for a moment, then inclined his head in a bow that was more sarcastic than subservient. Father would never let a house-elf get away with such disobedience, Draco thought numbly. Then he shook himself. And you really want to take him as your example? He shuddered, but the numbness had receded. For now, he thought bitterly. He looked at Potter, to find him gazing at him thoughtfully. It was disconcerting.
"What are you staring at, Potter?" he asked with a haughty toss of his head he'd learned from – no. Don't think of him. Just… don't do that again.
Potter's voice, drawing him from his thoughts, had never been so welcome. But, Draco had never heard it so warm either. At least – he'd never heard the warmth in it directed at him. That warmth was so welcome that Draco missed the sense of his words entirely, he was so busy listening to the tone. He felt the tips of his ears burn. "What?"
Harry's puzzled, speculative gaze sharpened for a moment, then he shrugged. His ridiculous hair flopped forward, concealing his eyes from Draco. Draco was surprised at the sharp pang of loss that shot through him. "I said… call me Harry," Potter said softly.
Draco swallowed. "O-ok."
Potter – Harry – Merlin! This is confusing! Harry nodded sharply and turned back to Kreacher. Draco started. He'd forgotten the alarming house-elf entirely during that odd exchange with Po-Harry. He could have been brutally murdered! A quick glance at the mad gleam in the house-elf's eyes assured him that Kreacher was definitely capable of it. And Harry expected him to sleep here? With that… thing on the loose? Draco groaned and resigned himself to a sleepless night before tuning back in to the conversation.
"Kreacher," Harry was saying, "Can you make us some sandwiches please? No need to set the table – we'll eat in the study. And then, if you could prepare two rooms, we'll retire right after eating."
The house-elf just stared mutinously at him.
Draco coughed delicately before the silence stretched too long. Of course he wanted to prolong Harry's embarrassment, he told himself, but he was hungry and tired and not inclined to draw this out. He almost believed himself.
"Harry." Draco stepped forward to lay a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry started and turned to him warily.
"Yes?"
Draco smiled. "Like this." He spun to face the house-elf. "Kreacher!" he snapped. The house-elf's yellow eyes rose to meet his, glinting hostilely. Draco ignored that and adopted his haughtiest expression, sneering down his nose at the creature. "You will prepare us a plate of sandwiches, tea, and whatever sorry excuse for biscuits you can scrounge in this dump. And you will do it quickly. While we eat, you will prepare the two best bedrooms and lay out towels. We both require showers before we retire for the night." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco glared at him until he subsided. "We will also require pajamas. Unless you have some here?" he asked, spinning to face Harry once more.
"No." Harry said thoughtfully.
Draco nodded and turned back to face the house-elf. "Now!" he finished.
The house-elf fell, squeaking, and began kissing his shoes. "Finally!" he croaked, "Kreacher has a real Master! Who gives commands the way a Master should." He glared at Harry. Then he lifted his eyes to leer at Draco. "Is Master Black sure he requires two rooms?" He asked, a strange light in his eyes.
Draco felt himself blushing from his toes to the roots of his hair. "Oh. Um. Yes. Definitely two." He risked a glance at Harry, relieved to find him as red as Draco knew he was. Then his eyes widened. Unless…unless he's blushing for the same reason? No. No, Draco, don't be an idiot. He's probably just horrified by the idea. Like you should be. Are. Like you are. He sneered at Harry to cover his discomfort. "That is how you manage a house-elf, Potter. Take note."
Harry didn't flinch from Draco's stare as he'd expected. He gazed back, face impassive and blank as a stone. "Harry." He turned to accept the plate of sandwiches Kreacher had reappeared with. Draco sighed, relieved to have the weight of that stare removed. He accepted the sandwich Harry thrust into his hand without noticing what kind it was, and ate it mechanically as he followed Harry into the study.
"Merlin!" he exclaimed, staring at what he held in disgust. "What did I just eat?"
Harry looked at the remains of his sandwich. "Um. A PBJ?"
Draco stared uncomprehendingly at him. Harry's mouth twitched. "A peanut-butter and jelly sandwich," he clarified.
Draco scowled. "Are you telling me," he asked, voice low and dangerous as he could make it, "that I just ate a – a muggle sandwich?"
Harry's mouth twitched again. "Yep."
Draco felt his mouth twitch in answering amusement, no matter how desperately he tried to control it. Then he was laughing, and Harry was laughing, and it felt So. Damn. Good. Draco couldn't recall the last time he'd laughed this freely, or had this much fun. This was worth it, he thought, as he and Harry collapsed on the sofas by the fire, still laughing. Even if they find me and kill me tomorrow, this was so worth it. He didn't think that this was the happiest moment of his life – he shoved the thought away when it threatened to intrude – he wanted to savor this moment. If it did end up the happiest moment of his life, then he fully intended to wring as much happiness from it as he could.
He looked up into Harry's knowing, sympathetic gaze, and was nearly undone. I know, those emerald eyes said, as they locked with his. I understand.
Draco didn't know how long he lay there, frozen in that stare. He only knew that he didn't dare look away, and when he finally reached, with shaking hands, for the tea Kreacher had provided, it was cold.
A quick warming charm took care of that – of course, Draco thought, frowning, Kreacher should have placed his own warming charms on it. But he couldn't focus on that for long. Harry was still gazing at him. Draco didn't say anything – he couldn't. He'd wanted Potter's – Harry's – attention for too long to give it up now that it was offered. He yawned into his empty cup.
Harry started and smiled sheepishly at him. "Come on. Let's go to bed." He held out his hand.
Draco almost responded sarcastically to the unintentional innuendo – it was unintentional, wasn't it? – but in the end, he couldn't resist that hand, stretched toward him in friendship, echoing his own gesture, so many years ago now that it felt like a lifetime.
Here we are again, he thought, reaching out to take Harry's hand.
Harry pulled him gently to his feet, but didn't immediately drop his hand. "Well," he said softly, as he stared down at their joined hands, "you chose better than I did." Harry's words echoed so closely Draco's thoughts that he didn't at first realize that Harry had spoken. "I'm sorry." Harry added, "And, thank you. For saving me. And – for giving me another chance." He squeezed Draco's hand, then dropped it and turned to the stairs. "Come on. Bedrooms are this way."
Draco stared bemusedly after him for a moment, rubbing absentmindedly at his hand, which now seemed to carry the imprint of Harry's, before shaking his head and following thoughtfully behind.
