Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd tied him to a bed and have my wicked way with him. *laughs* Actually, Harry Potter belongs to JKR and others, not me.
A/N: I will spare you all and make this short: Thank you to all of my reviewers, I'm so glad you loved the fluff/UST. I was surprised by the positive response to the pictures; I was sure I would be bashed for making two grown men do something teenage girls do ^_^ If you haven't reviewed the last chapter, go back and do it. I don't care if you review old chapters. You can do this at anytime, and I will hug you and give you cookies. We all like cookies, yes?
Chapter 8 — July 8th
The first thing Draco was aware of was he had never been as comfortable as this before; he did not want to wake up. He was surrounded by something soft, warm, and overall very comfortable. He snuggled deeper into the softness - which smelled very good, by the way - and gave a contented sigh as it pulled him closer. A tiny kiss was dropped onto the top of his head, causing he corners of his lips to curve upward involuntarily. Golden eyelashes fluttered open.
The second thing Draco became aware of was the light. It was like a spear to his head. The light was much too bright, and there was too much of it. Draco whimpered, clamping his eyes closed again as his head throbbed and pounded. He felt the warm, snugly thing wrap itself even tighter around him. "It's okay," it whispered. "Just rest. I'll get a hangover potion for you when you're ready, alright?"
Draco's brows drew together. The warm thing's voice sounded so familiar. In fact, it sounded just like...
"Potter?" Draco shrieked as his eyes flew open and he pushed himself away. A little voice in his mind started bashing him for subjecting himself to that horrible light and whining at the loss of Harry's arms around him. The added strain on Draco's head caused him to moan in agony.
"Draco? Are you okay? What's wrong?" Harry asked worriedly. He lifted a hand toward Draco, but then seemed to think better of it and his hand dropped back to the bed.
"Don't touch me!" The blond yelled, trying to shield his eyes from the light while clutching his throbbing head. "What the bloody hell were you thinking?"
Harry bit his lip and lowered his eyes. "I-I just...I thought you wouldn't mind. You seemed to l-like it too."
Draco ignored how his heart clenched at the brunet's dejected look. "Well, you assumed wrong," he lied, "because I didn't. My head hurts and I don't need this crap first thing in the morning."
He watched as Harry swallowed thickly and got off the bed, head still hung low. "I'll just grab a hangover potion for you, then."
The blond gave a grunt of acknowledgement and flopped back down onto the covers. He had just pulled a pillow over his head when he felt Harry prod him in the side. "What now, Potter?" he snapped irritably.
"Drink this. It'll help."
Draco lifted up a corner of his pillow, squinting his eyes to see the vial of wart green liquid behind held in front of him. Harry was staring at him with a hopeful yet resigned expression; one Draco didn't know how to deal with and resorted to ignoring in favour of downing the potion. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as his headache faded. Draco glanced back up at Harry, who had turned his head towards the wall and was now looking dreadfully forlorn. "I-Look, Harry—" he started, but was interrupted by the chiming of the doorbell. Harry rushed to open the door, seemingly grateful to get out of the awkward situation. Draco sighed and followed.
"Hi Harry! I got here as quickly as I could. I mean, I got your message a few hours ago, but then I had to go find Kingsley and ask him to authorize an international portkey for me to get here, and then I had to find your hotel but I'm here now, right? So how far are you on your case? Are these your files? Thank you." Draco watched, stunned, as no other than Hermione Granger, England's best researcher, prance into their room, pulling thick tomes of books out of her handbag that shouldn't have fit and settling in without their help. When neither man responded to her, she lifted her head and seemed to register their apparel. "Did I wake you two up? I thought that since you'd want me to come over right when I got your message, since you didn't specify."
"I sent you that message two days ago, Hermione," Harry finally said, since Draco had no idea what was going on.
Granger rolled her eyes. "Harry, international owls take twenty-four hours at the earliest. Owls do need to eat and sleep, you know."
"Oh," Harry said, frowning. Draco, too, was frowning, but for a completely different matter. He had forgotten how long international owls took. But that meant the presents he had gotten from the admirer couldn't have been from back home, in England. The scrapbook was gifted to him a few hours after the pictures were taken. If that was the case...his admirer was in Hong Kong. That increased Draco's frown. He didn't know anyone in Hong Kong, except for Avril and her friends, but he hadn't met them yet when the gifts started. That left Granger, who just got there, and...Harry. No, it couldn't be! Draco thought frantically. His admirer just couldn't be Harry. That was just wrong in every sense — they had been enemies as children and all those jealous sods in the department would call them unprofessional. But then Draco's mind wandered back to the morning's events and how comfortable he had been, held in Harry's arms. Argh! This was all just too confusing. Draco was sure he didn't feel that way about Harry; hell, he wasn't sure if the admirer really was Harry in the first place!
Draco jumped as he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. "You alright, there?" Harry asked softly, a bit hesitant, understandably, considering how Draco had reacted to physical touch just earlier.
Draco gulped and nodded. "Yeah. Just fine," he lied. "I was just wondering why I didn't get a gift yesterday from the mystery person." He realized as he spoke that it was true. He really hadn't gotten a gift yesterday. Yesterday, the day when he and Potter hadn't been away from each other all day, unlike all the others. Draco watched Harry closely, hoping to catch a clue.
Harry blinked, looking stunned for a moment, before turning his head away, avoiding Draco's eyes. "There was a rose on the shelf in the entrance hallway, under the mirror. I think it came while we were out yesterday."
"A rose?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows. "Hmm. And the gifter had always been so creative with his presents. A mere rose, how unthoughtful," he commented as he strolled down the hall to the bathroom. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder, where Harry was fidgeting and mumbling angrily to himself.
Draco turned back around, near-petrified. This was not possible.
A/N: Yeah, this was a short filler chapter. Draco's in denial and not cooperating with me. A note to anyone out there who's reading my other fic, "Second Shot at the Stone", I'd like to make a note that I'm trying to finish this fic before I update that one. To be honest, I'm stuck on chapter five and it's not even finished enough to send to my beta yet. Sorry. Anyone who hasn't read "Second Shot at the Stone" should go read it and spam me with reviews, the best weapon for taking down this wall called "writers block". Thanks; remember you guys are my fuel!
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