Keys

"You still don't really trust me, do you?" Draco quietly asked one winter evening as they sat in front of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place.

"Why would you say that?" Harry replied, puzzled. "I sleep wrapped around you almost every night, I trust you enough to let you take care of Teddy and you know all my secrets. I let you fly my broomstick and use my car, even though you don't even have an official license. I trust you with the cup I found still sitting on my parents' kitchen table after all those years, with my house…"

"Well, not enough to let me have my own keys…" Draco replied sullenly.

"What?" There was a pause. "Perhaps it's been too long since you slept in your own bed…"

Draco stared at him in disbelief for a moment before jumping to his feet.

"So now you can't even stand me near you? Fine, whatever you want! I'm leaving!"

"No, I didn't mean to say it like that!"

"But you meant it that way!" Draco yelled, rushing to the door.

"No! Wait! I…"

But Draco had already reached the door, flung it open and disapperated on the doorstep.

###

It was only when he made his way through the gates and had taken a couple of steps towards Malfoy Manor through the snow that Draco realized he had left both his shoes and his cloak in London. For a split second, he considered going back, but that was not really an option.

Besides, what was the discomfort of cold against wasting months of his life on that insufferable, arrogant prick? Not that he hadn't already wasted too much of his life, no, he had to go and fall for a Gryffindor, of all people. He should have known that that wouldn't end well.

In the end, Draco didn't even summon up the energy to perform a warming charm. He simply rushed to the manor, fumbled with the lock (he had given a spare set of keys to Harry weeks ago) and stumbled inside without bothering with lights. His memories of nighttime trips around the house in his childhood led him up the stairs and into his room, where he collapsed onto his bed. It had been years since a house-elf had last been in the manor and the bed smelt of dust from weeks of not being used.

Burrowing deeper into his pillow, Draco felt a hard, cold object. He raised his head and reached out his hand to figure out what it was. With a groan, Draco let his head crash back onto his pillow. The object in his hand was unmistakably a key.