A/N: Yay, finally putting Chapter 3 up! I hosted a kind of randomly thrown together party for a bunch of people last night, so I had like no time to post anything. But now I have time (thankfully), and here it is! Glad people seem to be liking it so far =)
Disclaimer: forgot to do this last time, but nope I don't own anything except my own writing.

Chapter 3

There was absolutely nothing to do in the hospital. Besides regular checks, Harry was left alone for most of the day with nothing to do but think. It was probably because he went insane from the solitude (at least, that was how he justified it to himself) that he one day actually began to talk with Draco Malfoy.

The blonde doctor had come to check on him once again. He'd informed Harry that he'd had surgery- accompanied by ridiculous amounts of medical jargon that Harry didn't even pretend to understand. He knew the Slytherin had done it merely to flaunt his superiority. What an ass-hat.

But still, the Gryffindor could not deny his own boredom. So when Malfoy announced that he looked "healthy enough to make it out of another day alive," Harry said, "Wait a minute. Erm…stay and chat with me for a bit."

The blonde sighed and made a show of checking his watch. But he finally replied, "Alright, Potter, I've got some time. I'll entertain you for a bit."

They ended up talking for over an hour. Harry was shocked to find that the man was actually rather entertaining. He was obviously intelligent, and had a surprising sense of humor that Harry was rather pleased to discover. He had to admit- he actually enjoyed talking with Malfoy.

It became a daily occurrence. Whenever Malfoy had a break, he could be easily swayed into talking with Harry for awhile. The doctor even began to bring him food from outside the hospital, for which Harry was most grateful. He'd barely eaten in days, considering the quality of food there- and he hadn't even eaten on the day of his accident, being far too involved in his work.

One day, the blonde man showed up holding two plastic cups full of something he couldn't quite identify. One, half-empty, was obviously Malfoy's. The other was full, and Malfoy thrust it into Harry's hand. "Drink this," he instructed. "You look like death warmed over. This should fix that a bit."

Harry looked at him warily. "What is it?" he asked, taking the drink. It was cold, tan-colored, and had a green Starbucks label on the cup.

Malfoy sighed. "It's a caramel frappuccino, Potter. You look like you haven't slept properly in weeks. The caffeine and sugar should do you good."

"Alright, enough with the insults, Malfoy," Harry replied. But he had to grudgingly admit that the man was right. He hadn't slept properly in weeks. So he took a sip of whatever he'd just been handed- and an onslaught of sweetened coffee hit his tongue like a Stupefy. The ludicrous amounts of sugar and caffeine rushed through his system, and actually made him feel better. And it was pretty delicious, considering the insane sweetness.

"Do you drink these every day?" he asked, incredulous.

The blonde merely shrugged and replied, "I like the taste." He then resumed an activity that Harry would never admit he found entrancing- sipping at his drink. The seemingly mundane actions fascinated the man in the bed. His cheeks hollowed the slightest bit as he sucked at the straw, and sometimes a bit would land on his lip. Malfoy would then dart a pink tongue out to lick at it, causing a tightening in Harry's stomach that had nothing to do with pain. He was loath to admit it, but fucking hell was it an erotic sight.

He had to stay in the hospital for a few more days. During that time, he wasn't sure if his boss, Kingsley Shacklebolt, even knew where he was- nor did he care. It felt surprisingly good to be away from his responsibilities for awhile, even under the circumstances. It was almost…fun.

The day finally came when one of the nurses announced that he was being discharged. Harry tried to deny it, but he actually felt somewhat sad about that fact. He'd come to enjoy the company of his obnoxious blonde doctor, and now that he was leaving, he would most likely never see him again. The thought depressed him more than it should have. For Merlin's sake, it's Malfoy! He chastised internally. You aren't going to bloody miss him- don't be ridiculous about this!

When Malfoy came to formally discharge him, he actually asked Harry what he would do now that he was free- without sarcasm or insults, surprisingly enough. Harry, too shocked at the apparent sincerity to even shoot back, 'Why do you care, Malfoy?' replied honestly. "I dunno, really. Probably Apparate back to London and get back to Auror life." He tried not to sigh at how dull that sounded- and really tried not to think about how dull it actually was.

To his even greater surprise, Malfoy glared at him. "Apparate all the way to London?" he echoed angrily. "In your condition? Not bloody likely- you'll Splinch yourself into six different pieces! Absolutely not, Potter. As your doctor, I have to give the final order- you are staying in this city."

The Gryffindor could only nod. "Erm…alright," he replied. He wanted to argue, but the steel-grey eyes looked almost frightened at the possibility of Harry getting Splinched! He would have to think about that possibility later, because he then said, "I'll go back to my hotel for a few days then, is that okay?"

Malfoy seemed to think for a few moments before replying, "Knowing you, Potter- which I do- you'll somehow wind up dead if I leave you alone while you're still healing. You are staying with me."

Harry's eyes widened to almost comic proportions. What??

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He had to have been out of his mind- that was the only explanation for it. There was no way he was thinking clearly when he invited Potter to come fucking live with him!

Only for a few days, he countered. It would only be a few days, and then the shaggy-haired Gryffindor would be out of his house and out of his life forever. Draco tried to pretend that it didn't fairly nauseate him to think of Potter leaving.

He discharged him from the hospital- something about which the Auror was clearly ecstatic. Draco couldn't really blame him either, after keeping him locked there like a caged animal for the past few days. He left the room so that Potter could dress in his own clothes, which was as much for his own benefit as the other man's. Thinking about Potter in various states of undress was sending some highly unwelcome thoughts through his brain.

When the man was finally dressed, they went down to the parking garage. Draco pulled his keys from the pocket of his trousers and pressed a button. The man next to him raised a raven-colored brow. Draco smirked.

"What, Potter- shocked at seeing me drive a Muggle car? Honestly, you're denser than I thought. How did you expect me to get around the city, by broom?"

A fetching blush crept up Potter's face- Draco had to admit that he rather enjoyed the sight of the Savior of the Wizarding World getting embarrassed. And it has nothing to do with him looking cute, he told himself firmly. Potter was not cute.

"What kind of car is this, anyway?" he asked as they approached.

"It's a Mercedes," Draco replied, and slid into the driver's seat. He wouldn't lie- hiding out in the Muggle world could be awful at times. At first, it was near impossible. But once he got used to it, he realized that it wasn't actually all that bad- and he had to admit that he found he loved to drive. And if he was going to be stuck hiding amongst Muggles, then he wanted to at least have the luxury of a nice car. So he bought his SL550 Roadster- a frivolous expense, but hey- Draco was a doctor. And it was completely worth it.

When they arrived at his flat, Draco gave a quick tour to his new houseguest, and showed him the room where he would stay. He opened the door to the room, where a black bag sat on the edge of the bed.

"You got my things?" Potter asked, obviously in disbelief.

Draco shrugged and tried to appear as if it was no big deal. "I made a few calls," he replied nonchalantly.

In actuality, he had made quite a few calls. That Auror was damn hard to track down! It had taken almost all of Draco's efforts to locate the other man's hotel and get his things for him. Potter grinned, and Draco had to do the same. That stupid Gryffindor just had to have an infectious smile! But he quickly remembered himself, and stopped smiling like an idiot just at the fact that his gesture had apparently made Potter happy.

"Right, erm…settle in then," he finally said. "The bathroom is through there, get me if you need something. I'll go make dinner."

And then he left the room, leaving Potter to his own devices. He went to the kitchen, content in knowing that cooking would calm his nerves. Cooking always managed to calm his nerves. After turning into practically a recluse, Draco figured he needed a hobby. So he began to pick up cookbooks, and taught himself a few recipes. After that, he found that it was surprisingly easy, and quite fun- so he learned some more. Now he could cook just about anything- and he had a wonderful time discovering new recipes and trying them out. Cooking also had the benefit of being a great way to relieve his stress- of which he had much. And now, he finally had someone to cook for.

Just for a few days! he reminded himself sternly, and set about making the food while his guest settled in.

Potter joined him awhile later, looking slightly more content now that he had his own things. "What's for dinner?" he inquired. "It smells delicious."

Draco tried to hide his smile at the compliment. "Salmon," he replied. "And if you don't eat, it'll get cold, so go on then."

He had feared they would fall into awkward silence, but the two men carried on a conversation as if they were old friends. At the hospital, Draco had found that he actually liked the company of the raven-haired wizard. He was pleased to discover that it didn't change now that Potter was at his house. In fact if anything, he enjoyed it even more.

His only problem, he discovered, was trying not to listen to anything but Potter's speech. Especially when the man did…that. He'd obviously not even eaten a decent meal in months, because when he first bit into the fish he made a soft moaning sound that made Draco's breath catch. A quiet "Mmm" from the other man sent a jolt of electricity straight to the pit of Draco's stomach, and made desire pool in his groin. His trousers suddenly became just a bit too tight for comfort. Damn that Gryffindor, he thought bitterly. He would have to rein his feelings in.

A/N: Mkay, so there's Chapter 3. As always, reviews are lovely. Thank you!

xx,
JB