Much to his dismay, Harry was back in St. Mungo's.
He was at work, last hour of course, where he was overseeing his batch of trainees practicing a modified Stunning spell on animated dummies.
And of course, the dummy Kyle Ozwood was assigned to strayed a bit too close to where Harry was barking orders.
But at least they knew now the spell would bypass a shield charm.
And the 'burning sensation' the spell should have caused was actually a 'set the run-away's legs on fire' sensation.
So after being doused by eleven different jets of water, and one jet of mud thanks to the cloudy-minded Zoe Rawlings, he was Apparated to the hospital before he could object.
Rules they said, regulations to follow.
Harry suspected they just wanted to go home early.
Grumbling, he pulled the scratchy blanket up to his chin.
His legs were heavily bandaged and numb as the dead's, so he was confined to the lumpy bed and the swatch of fabric.
He hated St. Mungo's , hated the smell of blood and pine cleaner that lingered in the halls, hated the fact that a few floors above him Neville's parents laid lame still.
Just as his anger was being to rise, Hermione banged through the door. "Why in the hell do I have to find out from my gynecologist that my oldest friend in the world is in the hospital?" she demanded.
Not waiting for an answer, she pounded her way to Harry's bed, belly leading the way. Ignoring Harry's complaints, she snatched the blanket off his legs to study the bandages.
"Here I am, pulling my huge knickers up from around my ankles when my lovely doctor tells me I'm free to go up and visit my mate. So I rush around, trying to find out which floor you were on, and yes I knew it had to be so shut it, and send a bloody Patronus to Ron since the git can't figure out a cell phone. Then I spot my lovely husband trying to sneak out and not tell me you were here!"
Harry winced and tried to bury himself deeper into the pillow.
"My emergency contact is Ron, I haven't updated it since you two got married! If you have to be mad at someone, it's him."
With a huff, Hermione crossed her arms and sat down in the armchair near the bed.
"Two of the most important men in my life, not letting me know when someone is in the hospital."
She lectured Harry under her breath for a few more minutes, before Harry had no choice but to use his current distraction technique- baby names.
"How about Ashley?"
Hermione scoffed. "Really Harry, do you have an original bone in your body?"
"Helen?"
"Not bad, sounds smart. I'll have to remember that one."
It continued for a few minutes, before Hermione remembered life outside of Harry and had to go.
She left Harry with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back tomorrow.
Harry just sighed and closed his eyes, knowing better than to argue. He was just starting to entertain the idea of sleep when the smell of tomato soup wafted in and made his stomach come to life with hunger pains.
But there was a distinct smell of tea and money that he knew clung to one practicality arrogant Slytherin that made his stomach lurch for completely different reasons.
On the other side of his eyelids, Draco waited a beat, watching as Harry's nose began to twitch. He opened the styrofoam cup and after fishing a spoon off of Harry's untouched dinner tray took a small bite.
"You better get up, this is way too healthy for me to eat all of it."
Harry smiled and obeyed, though he told himself it was purely from hunger.
Draco was dressed warmly in a dove grey peacoat and woolen slacks, his hair tucked neatly behind pink-tipped ears. His cheeks were flushed pink too, making him seem a bit friendlier. Inviting.
"It's from Eddie's." Draco started, answering Harry's unasked question.
He picked up a bowl off the tray and gingerly sniffed the contents. "What is this, wash water?"
After banishing away the broth and cleaning the bowl, Draco split the soup between them.
"Eat, tell me how good my takeaway prowess are." He said, sitting down in the vacant armchair.
The soup was comforting- light and flavorful, just what Harry needed. Warmth spread through his battered body, making him sigh in content. He thanked Draco, and slipped his dirtied bowl onto the tiny nightstand.
"How did you find out I was in the hospital?" Harry asked, shifting to face the blond.
"I had some work to tend to across the street. I was standing in line outside the diner afterwards when I caught wind that 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' was next door, burnt to a crisp"
Harry grunted at the title. "Yeah well, news travels fast."
"So were you burnt to a crisp? If so, the Healers deserve a big raise for their extraordinary skills."
"Just the legs this go-round. Thankfully the blokes I've been training were smart enough to put me out before the flames got much higher." Harry said.
Draco crossed his legs at the ankle, making Harry all but crane his neck to try to catch a glimpse of an accidental sock exposer.
"Sounds like you've had a busy day, burning off chunks of yourself and all. I on the other hand have spent millions in other people's money, remain devastatingly handsome and not cooked well-done, and still have the strength to bring soup to the frail."
Harry huffed and blew the hair out of his eyes. "Half a bowl of tomato is hardly anything to boast about. And you didn't even bring any croutons, crackers, toast- nothing. "
"You'll live." Draco drawled, studying his nails.
"But I'm weak, I need the croutons to fortify me." Harry whined, picking at fuzz on the blanket.
Draco's undoubtedly snide comeback was interrupted by a knock on the door and the Healer that breezed in. "Hello again Mr. Potter, doing better?" Not waiting for an answer, the older man went to work casting diagnostic spells on Harry.
"Can I leave anytime soon?" Harry begged.
"Yes he needs to hurry home to make croutons and three different types of toast points." Draco said
Harry narrowed his eyes and sat up. "Don't listen to him, Healer Simmons. He's just jealous he can't put stock, and make a killing, in my delicious garlic and rosemary croutons. Which go great with tomato soup."
Healer Simmons nodded absently and peeked at Harry's legs. "A bland soup or broth would do you some good. I'll have a mediwitch bring some up."
Draco snorted. "Bland being the key word. Hot tomato juice and pieces of bread, very delicious. Why can't you have a curry from a shady vendor like the rest of us?"
"I'll make my own damn curry and save myself from a night bent over the toilet! Curry from a street vendor, really Draco?"
The doctor glanced up. "Are you having digestive issues ?"
Draco laughed loudly, leaning back in his seat from the effort. When Harry turned to scowl at him, he noticed the smallest of crow's feet around Draco's eyes and the flash of embarrassed anger melted. Something about seeing that little flaw, that mark of age and maturity made his heart jump happily.
"No, just a pain in the ass." Harry said, jerking his head in Draco's direction. "So, released soon?"
"Tomorrow after breakfast most likely. Now now, you had some intensive burns to both legs and upper thighs from a spell mostly unknown to us. Though you're lucky that our typical salves and spells have worked so far, we would like to keep you overnight for observation." the Healer scowled, all but wagging a finger in Harry's face.
Harry sighed and fidgeted unhappily.
Draco patted Harry's forearm, fingers warm and dry against Harry's chilled skin. "Don't fret, the bread will have a chance to grow staler. That's good right?"
His touch still lingered, light and heavy as steel against his arm. Harry unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth and agreed, mumbled something about textures of bread.
Draco let his hand slip away, but not far, grasping the bed rails between them. Harry swore he could feel warmth radiating from Draco's pale hand.
The Healer left, not before letting Draco know he needed testing for anemia. Harry promised him a dinner of liver, though he never cooked liver in his life.
He left the hospital the next morning with Hermione by his side and his legs tingling under his baggy sweatpants.
They Flooed to Grimmauld Place, Hermione immediately plopping him down on the sofa as soon as he stepped out the fireplace.
He watched as she steeped tea and cut up fruit for a simple fruit salad, though he kept an ear out for any incoming owls.
Draco stayed nearly four hours with him yesterday, buying frozen yogurts and reading aloud from the copy of Witch Weekly he found in the nightstand.
Harry learned a few things yesterday, besides that the Stunning spell had a few kinks in it yet.
He learned that 's cafeteria makes a pretty good raspberry frozen yogurt, that he would get a date easier if he wore bold colored dress-robes, and that he was starting to like Malfoy. A lot.
He was still the arrogant jackass Harry went to school with, just a little less rough around the edges. Less mean, more sarcastic wit.
It was the crow's feet, Harry thought. Draco looked pretty much the same as his Hogwarts days, except for the crow's feet. Those little wrinkles just did something to him.
Hermione sat down by his feet, the tray of food and tea floating in front of them. He accepted the little of bowl of fruit, tucking into it gratefully. Hospital food was definitely not going to be missed.
Though he would have drizzled the fruit with a little honey, a squeeze of lemon and some fresh mint to bring it all together, the fruit was refreshing.
"Critiquing my fruit?" asked an amused Hermione.
"Habit." Harry said, taking a burning gulp of tea.
Hermione slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her, rubbing her swollen heel absently. "As is watching for the post?"
"Er, I'm waiting for my replacement preserves from Molly."
Hermione pursed her lips and studied her tea. "Really? Preserves?"
Harry stuffed his mouth before answering. "Yes. And maybe an owl from Draco."
Hermione smiled smugly and topped off her mug. "Aaah. I thought I saw him at the hospital yesterday, but I was in a hurry to run home and kill Ron."
Harry smiled, swallowing a lump of orange. "So is Ron still among the living?"
"Barely. I bought him the simplest of mobile phones and I'm forcing him to a beginners lesson tonight. But more on your visit with Draco!"
Harry leaned back, keeping the window above Hermione's head visible. "It went well, good. He brought soup."
"Sounds like a real party. "Hermione deadpanned.
Harry nudged her good-naturedly with his foot. "It was nice that he came. It meant a lot."
Harry saw the romantic in Hermione with her soft smile and the tilt of her head. He blushed, and she gave a delighted laugh. "Oh Harry."
"Don't make it into more than it is!"
Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Wouldn't think of it. So you like him huh?"
Harry nodded confidently. "Yeah, I like him."
"Come on Harry, do better than that! What do you like about him?" Hermione asked eagerly.
"He's funny, he's always making these smart ass jokes that crack me up." Harry smiled. Hermione shared his smile but remained quiet, willing him to go on.
"He's real, he doesn't say what he thinks I want to hear. Then again, did he ever?" Harry continued. "I know we have this history, and we haven't really talked about any of it, but I'm ok with that. For now. It'll come up when it comes up, you know? Bit by bit."
"It doesn't hurt things that he's good looking too." added Hermione.
He thought about how Draco's arms strained against the snug fitting shirts he was so fond of. How his long legs ate through a room, how he owned the room with his elegant gait and sharp eyes.
And his lips, so quick to throw a sneer or a sly smile his way. Harry often found himself wondering if they were as soft they looked.
"Yeah, doesn't hurt anything." Harry said, clearing his throat.
Hermione patted his knee and stood up with a groan. "Well if my option is worth anything, I think the feeling is mutual. I don't think Malfoy would just drop by bearing soup for many people."
Harry considered himself lucky.
After Hermione left, Harry took a very long and very cautious bath.
He made tea. Read. Did all he could to try to distract himself from the lack of owls visiting his house.
He sat at his kitchen island, legs propped up on the other stool and his palms slicked with the burn ointment he was given by Healer Simmons.
Tentatively, Harry rubbed the cream over the tight pink burns. The burns already looked weeks old, the skin taunt and puckered like scars.
Hands greasy, Harry cupped his tea mug with his wrists and took a drink.
"How pitiful."
Undeterred, Harry sat his tea down carefully before turning around slowly. He schooled his face blank, though his heartbeat quickened. "You normally just waltz into a person's kitchen?"
Draco didn't answer right away, though he did pour himself a glass of wine. "It's easy when I'm still keyed into your Floo. Or do you just keep it wide open, hoping for visitors?"
Harry scowled and wiped the rest of the cream on his legs. On his bare legs. It hit him that he was nearly nude, dressed only in loose boxers and a thin undershirt.
Harry fought back a blush.
Draco on the other hand seemed perfectly at ease, back against the kitchen sink as he flipped idly through a nearby cookbook.
It was frustrating that he was always so cool, so poised while Harry felt like a bumbling idiot.
As if on cue, Draco swirled his wine and took a tiny sip, flipped on to desserts.
Harry sulked into his tea, watching Draco over the chipped rim.
"Can you make this?" Draco asked suddenly, thrusting the cookbook under Harry's nose.
It was a two page recipe for a chocolate tart, complete with a black cherry reduction.
"I'm not much of a baker. Too much like potions I guess, everything has to be just so or it turns into a disgusting mess "
"I'm amazing at potions." Draco stated, eyeing the page with renewed appreciation.
Harry sat the mug down and walked past Draco into his well-stocked pantry without a word.
"Vanilla, sugar, flour, baking powder." Draco called out, running a long finger down the page.
Soon, Draco was surrounded by all of the ingredients found in a small bakery. He had the sleeves of his pinstriped navy shirt rolled up to his elbows and Harry's favorite apron tied neatly behind him.
Harry watched from his perch on the stool, reading aloud from the recipe and adding unheeded advice.
Draco's potion skills did shine through, Harry noticed. He measured out flour and sugar with a keen eye, dumping them just so into the mixing bowl. He was a careful cook, very precise and steady as he lined the ramekins with dough and the chocolate filling.
The pastry baking, Draco started on the reduction. Strawberries, as Harry didn't have cherries, pats of butter, brown sugar, cinnamon filling the air with its sweetness. Draco let out a whoop when he added the wine, the fire dancing in his eyes. "So dramatic!" he exclaimed.
Giving the sauce a stir, he turned down the heat and refilled his glass. Draco took a sample, blowing on it before taking a small taste. "Maybe I should add more wine…"
Draco had chocolate smeared on the bubbling caldrons printed on the apron, a gob of flour on the blurred tattoo that marred his forearm, his cheeks flushed from excitement and wine.
Harry could have blamed it on the heat of the stove, the overhead lights beating down on him. Or maybe it was the dregs of the pain potion in his system mixing badly with the wine.
But it wasn't.
Draco held out the spoon for Harry to taste. "Any good?" he asked, voice low.
Leaning forward, Harry let Draco feed him. Eyes never leaving Draco's, Harry ate slowly. As Harry ate Draco licked his lips, tip of his pink tongue wetting his bottom lip quicker than a flash.
Harry swallowed thickly. Too much cinnamon, a little burnt. "Perfect."
Draco dropped the spoon and it protested with a loud clang against the countertop.
He nearly leapt over the counter, cupping the back of Harry's neck and pulling him closer. Steel eyes determined, he crushed his lips against Harry's, not allowing a chance for protest.
They kissed hungrily, Harry delighted to finally confirm that Draco's wine tinted lips were even softer than they looked.
Draco traced the lines of Harry's lip with his tongue, teasing him with nips by sharp teeth. His hair slipped through Harry's fingers like corn silk, Harry tugged on the ends.
Harry pulled back, breathless and just a bit shaky. He grabbed his nearby wand and flicked it towards the stove.
"Your tart is burning."
Draco smiled and used his own wand to banish away the smoke that was slowly filling the room.
"So it is." he said simply. He kissed Harry again, more slowly, taking the time to explore Harry's mouth.
When he pulled back, Draco's eyes sparkled. Harry grinned into them and pulled the pastry out of the oven with a pointed look and a wave of his hand.
"Nice." Draco appreciated.
He was still inches away from Harry's face, breath warm against Harry's cheek. He watched as awkwardness began to take over Harry, the blush that crept up his neck, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.
So Draco pulled back, planting his feet firmly on the kitchen floor. He was reminded of potions again. Always have a careful hand, though he chose to ignore that his own were a bit unsteady.
"How about we see what the damage is to that tart?" Draco asked. He turned around, missing the flash of annoyance in Harry's green eyes.
The evening went fast after their kiss- Draco scarfing down the burnt dessert while Harry mashed his into pudding.
He offered to help clean up, tossing the soiled apron on the vacant barstool.
Harry waved him off, and after mulling around for a second longer, Draco was gone, leaving Harry with a kiss to the cheek and a destroyed kitchen.
