Harry called in sick the next morning. Having MS also meant that calling in sick was never a process of a few minutes but rather a long conversation with the secretary followed by Ray at the telephone who were worried about him possibly having another attack. Harry explained patiently that a running nose was only very seldom connected to his disease, although he could not say the same of the other symptoms like fatigue and aching joints. He promised to call as soon as his condition worsened and went back to bed and to a fuming cup of tea.

Although Harry felt a little better the next days he decided to work from home. His job as a programmer only seldom required his personal appearance at the institute and he was mostly freed from teaching or other duties. Still, he preferred to work at the institute over being alone in his apartment. Around midday the third day home his professor called again, concerned about his well-being as well as looking for someone to fix the layout of his slides. In the afternoon of the same day the doorbell rang. When Harry opened he was surprised to find Ron standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Harry had to admit he could have greeted his new colleague more welcoming.

"I… I…" Ron looked as caught by surprise as Harry and tried very hard not to stare at Harry's wheelchair. "Didn't Ray tell you? He sent me over to bring you this." Ron produced a blue folder from his bag.

Harry took the folder, frowning. He did not need the printouts to care for Ray's software problem and Ray knew that. It probably was one of Ray's famous team-building schemes, sending Ron over to Harry. Harry sighed. He could not possibly turn Ron away now that he was here. He placed the useless folder in his lap and reluctantly turned the wheels, backing the chair.

"Come inside; it's freezing cold out there."

Ron stomped snow from his light shoes and stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.

Harry turned the chair and crossed the living room where he had installed his small home office and wheeled into the kitchen.

"Nice apartment. It really is big!" Ron called from the spacious living room and peaked around the corner into the kitchen.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "It's wheelchair accessible."

Ron gulped and reddened. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I… can I help you?"

"Yes." Harry pointed to the additional plate and cutlery he had collected from one of the numerous low cupboards in the kitchen. There were some higher shelves in the kitchen too, Harry assumed because even in an accessible household a kitchen looked naked without. He had left them mostly empty however. "You can place them on the table over there." He opened the oven door and smiled as a delicious wave of heat hit him. The lasagna looked quite ready.

"Are… are you inviting me for dinner?" Ron was rooted to the spot, plate and cutlery in his hands.

"Yes." Harry resisted rolling his eyes. "Unless you are not hungry?" He fetched the lasagna from the oven with gloves on his hands and put it on a wooden plate by the stove. He had just been ready to eat when Ron had rung the bell. Because Harry did not really appreciate the food at the canteen he regularly cooked at home larger portions than necessary for one person and took the leftovers to work the next day or put them in the freezer for later times.

Ron's eyes got big as he saw the steaming lasagna and Harry grinned when he wheeled past him, balancing plate and lasagna on his lap.

Dinner together with Ron turned out to be rather pleasant. Ron praised Harry's cooking skills and tucked in as if he had been starved for days. After some time he got more relaxed and talkative. Harry learned about his large family and his older brothers who had all moved out of the parents' house and spread over the whole world. He himself, he told Harry, still lived with his parents in his hometown near Princeton. Harry imagined their house as a small palace and found the decision to stay there not unreasonable.

"Bill was working in Egypt. He moved to India a few months ago. Would be great to visit him once."

"Oh yes, what I heard from Draco, India must be really cool."

Ron froze as Harry said that and Harry cursed himself. He had avoided that topic on purpose until now.

"How well do you know Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged, carefully lining up his fork and knife on his empty plate.

"I only met him this summer. We just spent a few days together."

Ron lowered his loaded fork.

"I thought that. Are you still in contact?"

"We plan to meet when I go to Princeton."

"I'm just saying… you should be careful."

Harry groaned, annoyed. What was Ron up to?

"What do you mean? Should I be afraid?" He chuckled but Ron looked serious.

"He is… evil."

At that point Harry laughed out loud. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me. That sounds like a bad movie. Draco is… nice… intelligent, empathetic…" Harry felt his cheeks heat up when he said that. He had not talked about Draco to anyone, avoiding the topic with his friends. "He is far from evil. Sorry, that's just ridiculous."

Ron only shrugged. "I have known him for longer than you. I'm just saying… you should be careful."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind, thanks," he said coldly.

Dinner ended mostly in uncomfortable silence and Ron took off shortly afterwards. Harry lingered behind in the dark hallway after the door had closed, thinking about what Ron had said. He could not help getting curious at last but a voice deep inside him asked if he really wanted to know the truth behind Ron's ominous warning.