NINE
"Malfoy you look terrible." Harry whispered as soon as he'd gotten the boy under the heavy light of his kitchen.
"Shut up." Malfoy retorted, after struggling to think of a comeback. Charlie approached Malfoy, sniffing him cautiously as Harry put the kettle on and dug around in his cabinets for a jar of coffee. Malfoy bent down to stroke Charlie's ears, cooing to him softly. "You're a fat boy aren't you?" he murmured. "Just like your master."
Harry scowled, getting two mugs out. "Just because you're a walking broomstick, with no muscle."
Malfoy stood up and leaned against the kitchen table, closing his eyes. "And you're a muscle man are you Potter? A 'beef cake'?"
The kettle clicked as Harry snorted, spooning coffee into the mugs and adding an extra teaspoonful to Malfoy's. He fetched the milk from the fridge as Charlie sniffed his jeans, taking in pub smells and hoping for some sort of snack. "You tell me Malfoy." Harry smirked, turning around with the mugs of coffee.
Malfoy might have told him if he'd been in the room, but the kitchen however, was now quite deserted. Harry tutted, setting the mugs on the table and wandering into the hallway. "You better not be nosing in my living room again." he muttered, entering the room only to find it empty. Harry frowned, checking the bathroom and finding that empty too. He wandered into his bedroom and froze at the sight of Malfoy sprawled on his bed, breathing deeply. "Oi!" he cried, prodding Malfoy in the back. "Come on, I've made you coffee." It wasn't like he hadn't thought of Malfoy on his bed - and in it, but he certainly hadn't envisioned it like this. Harry prodded Malfoy again, this time harder.
"Stop it!" Malfoy snapped as though he had every right to be there. He reminded Harry of one of Mrs Figg's cranky old cats who'd eat too much and doze on the comfiest chair, scratching Harry if he tried to move him. Harry flicked the light on, ignoring Malfoy's groans of protest and he stooped to look at his face. It was greyer than before and his brow was furrowed. "You didn't even drink that much." Harry said, sweeping his hand over the boy's forehead. "Lightweight."
Malfoy swatted the hand away, shielding his eyes from the light. "I didn't eat beforehand. Turn the light off." Harry turned off the light and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling Malfoy's converse trainers towards him and starting to unlace them. Malfoy whined and kicked his legs like a difficult child until Harry had pulled off both shoes, throwing them on the floor before removing his own.
"When was the last time you ate Malfoy?" he asked, thinking of yesterday when Malfoy had pushed his food around the plate. He wasridiculously thin – and not just standard Malfoy thin either. He ignored Harry and rolled away to the other end of the bed with his back to him. He let out a groan and Harry got onto the bed with him, looking at his slim frame as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even in the dark, Malfoy's hair was still luminous: shining in the little moonlight that passed through the slats in Harry's blinds.
"Ughh." said Malfoy softly, and Harry smiled and shifted closer to him, reaching out to rub his back soothingly. He half expected to be scratched by the grumpy old cat that was Malfoy. Instead, Malfoy tensed: Harry could feel the muscles seizing beneath his touch. He wondered if there was a reason Malfoy was so frigid, or if it was just part of his personality.
"It's okay." Harry whispered, still moving his hand in comforting circles over the denim of Malfoy's shirt. Eventually, Malfoy's muscles relaxed again and he leaned back - ever so slightly - into Harry's comforting touch. It might have been because he'd fallen asleep, but Harry didn't dwell on it too much as his own eyelids were growing heavy.
When Harry came to again, it was still dark. His head ached and he felt stuffy, his body telling him it wasn't time to get up yet. He squinted in the dark through his blinds and saw a purple sky: it was barely dawn. When he rolled over, he found he was alone and his heart jolted. A noise registered in his ears and he listened in the darkness.
Malfoy had gotten up to be sick in his toilet, and Harry heard the taps running as he washed up, grumbling miserably to himself. The door made a soft noise on the carpet as Malfoy came back into the room, and Harry watched him as he collapsed onto his bed, groaning. "Bastard." he hissed. Not sure how it was his fault, but not really minding anyway, Harry drew close to Malfoy, watching him take ragged breaths. He listened to Malfoy's soft whines as he rubbed his back again, even though his arms ached with fatigue and his eyelids were leaden. Eventually, Malfoy fell silent and his breaths drew further apart. Harry listened to him, trying to remind himself that this was the boy he'd fought with all through school and also an ex-Death Eater. It didn't really seem to register, and Harry kept moving his hand, feeling Malfoy's spine beneath his shirt...
Sure he was asleep, Harry dared to trace his finger over the pale line of exposed flesh between Malfoy's jeans and his shirt. Malfoy shivered and he did it again: trailing his finger over skin that was too hot and soft to touch. Slowly, Harry slid his hand beneath the shirt and over the expanse of bare skin on Draco's back. He ran his hand down it, tracing the prominent spine with his middle finger and edging as close to Draco as he could without their bodies touching. Harry dragged his hand up and down his back again and again, feeling as though he had stumbled across forbidden treasure and listening to the birds that rose early singing outside.
"What time is it?" Malfoy whispered suddenly, and Harry's hand stilled on his back.
"Late." Harry said quickly. "Early, actually."
"Mmm." Malfoy replied. Harry was trying to figure out how he could move away discreetly when Malfoy spoke. "Why've you stopped?"
"I...uh-"
"Did you think I was asleep?" Harry felt himself blush furiously, heat creeping over his skin. "Cute."
"Shut up." Harry snapped, snatching his hand away and shifting to the other side of the bed.
"Okay." Malfoy replied, yawning.
~X~
It was almost the afternoon when Harry woke again. He opened his eyes to see Charlie's wet nose in front of his face, sniffing him frantically. "Morning." Harry mumbled.
"Go away." came the waspish reply, and Harry almost had a heart attack before he remembered he was sharing his bed with Malfoy.
"I was talking to my dog." Harry growled back, stroking Charlie's head and swinging his legs off the bed as he sat upright. Charlie pawed at Harry's knees, a forlorn expression on his face. "No biscuits Charlie. They're bad for you." Harry hauled himself up and stretched, turning around to look at Malfoy as he did so. The boy was lying on his stomach with his face buried in Harry's pillow and his arms wrapped around his head. Smiling, Harry went to the kitchen, where he found the two mugs of coffee he'd prepared yesterday standing cold on the table. He threw them in the sink and put the kettle on, Charlie winding through his legs like a cat.
"Make it black!" called the groggy voice from his bedroom. Malfoy in his bedroom, Harry thought. Then he didn't think, because it was too weird. When he'd made them both coffees, he returned to his room, finding Malfoy in the same position, only with his hand outstretched to accept the drink. Harry placed it carefully in this hand.
"Sit up with that." Harry told him, taking his wand from the bedside table and flicking it lazily at the blinds, letting light pour into the room through the French doors as they opened. Malfoy complained, shifting around until he had his back against Harry's headboard. He sipped the coffee and looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Harry thought he looked rough, and still very much grey and underfed. "Why don't you eat something?" Harry asked. "I make good bacon."
"Why don't you shut up?" Harry rolled his eyes and took his phone out, scrabbling in his drawer for the scrap of parchment Dean had given him on Monday. He dialled the number and left the room, taking his coffee with him.
"Hello?" said a sprightly voice.
"Dean it's Harry."
"Harry! You're coming today aren't you? It starting somewhere around three." Dean proceeded to give Harry the name of the street, and told him to bring sustenance. This worried Harry greatly, as he'd had plenty of practice at cooking for the Dursley's, but he doubted he could make appetising party food to save his life.
"What sort of food are we talking about?" he asked, interrupting Dean's list of the sandwiches that would be present.
"Well we've got low cake numbers, but you can bake right?"
"Actually, I -"
"Great! Got to go Harry, my cousins want me to paint their faces. Remember it's a Muggle thing so no robes and wands, yeah? Bye!" He hung up, and Harry was left wondering where he was going to produce cakes from. He finished his coffee and put the mug in the sink, trudging back into his bedroom to find Malfoy with a scrap of parchment in his hand, examining a ball point pen from different angles.
"Where did you get those?" Harry demanded, sitting down on his bed.
"Your drawer." Malfoy replied simply. He held the pen out to Harry. "How do you work this monstrosity?"
Harry took it and clicked the end. "You went through my drawers?"
"Yes." Malfoy replied, snatching the pen back and scribbling on the parchment. "Don't worry. I didn't find anything too sordid." Harry scowled and watched Malfoy write. "What did I drink last night?" he asked, looking up at Harry.
"Beer." Harry replied. "Then lager, then tequila and I'm pretty sure you had a cocktail when you thought no one was looking."
"I'll leave out that part." Malfoy said, scratching away on his parchment. Harry tried to read what he'd written, but Malfoy tore off his notes and stowed them safely in his pocket. He clicked the pen a few times experimentally. "Can I keep this?" he asked.
"Go for it." Harry sighed, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes. "I don't suppose you know how to bake do you?"
"Do I know how to bake?" Malfoy scoffed, stowing the pen in his pocket along with his mystery notes. "I could bake you into nothingness."
"What?" Harry snorted, opening his eyes. "Where did you learn how to bake?" Malfoy tapped the side of his nose. Harry sighed, but feeling hopeful he added. "Will you help me bake some cakes? In exchange for those hideous pictures you took of me and that pen?"
"Baking with Potter." Malfoy drawled. "How could I resist?" Harry grinned. "On one condition!" Malfoy added quickly. "I get to use your shower." Harry shrugged in agreement, it seemed like a fair exchange to him.
~X~
"Well done Potter. I'm sure the Muggles will love egg shell cake." Malfoy bit later that afternoon when Harry had failed to crack his third egg.
"Do you have any idea how much you sound like Snape?" Harry snapped, scooping out the bits of shell from his mixture. "And I can't concentrate with you breathing down my neck." He was driving Harry wild with his barbed remarks and patronising snorts. It also didn't help that he'd emerged from Harry's bathroom smelling of his musky fennel shower gel with wet hair falling in his eyes.
Malfoy smacked Harry's hand away from the bowl and did it himself. "Go and fetch a wooden spoon you useless lump." he ordered, making Harry feel like Neville in the potions classroom. Except he was Harry in his own kitchen and Draco Malfoy was helping him bake cakes. What had the world come to?
"Malfoy?" said Harry, getting a wooden spoon he hadn't known existed from his cutlery drawer.
"What?"
"Where did you learn to make cakes the Muggle way?"
"No more questions." Malfoy replied, taking the spoon from Harry and stirring the mixture savagely.
Harry had only baked cakes once or twice in his life. They were times Dudley had demanded a cake baking session and he'd get as far as adding the flour before he'd get bored and impatient and go and watch TV. Harry would then be ordered to finish the job for his cousin's sake and present all of the cakes to Dudders, who'd devour them in ten minutes flat, occasionally leaving a half eaten one for Harry because there was no more room within him. The cakes had always been half risen and a complete failure, but Dudley was such a pig he'd never notice.
Seen as he wasn't allowed to ask questions, Harry stood and watched Malfoy stirring, wondering in which parallel universe Malfoy had learned to make Muggle cakes. Malfoy glanced at him, looking up from the bowl with a smudge of flour across his cheek. Harry smiled at the serious expression on his face as he held the mixing bowl. "You've got..." Harry began, reaching out his hand and thinking about all the stupid films he'd seen on TV.
He gently rubbed the flour away and Malfoy blinked, looking at Harry with a curious expression before stirring the bowl again, this time more forcefully and avoiding Harry's gaze. When Malfoy had finally deemed the mixture acceptable, he spooned it into paper cases they'd found at the back of Harry's cupboards. "If you don't bake Potter, where on earth did all of this paraphernalia come from – are these cookie cutters?"
Harry squinted into the depths of the cupboard. "I think that was Hermione." he replied. "She wanted to make me feel at home."
"Well I'm glad someone around here's organised." Malfoy replied, heaving the stuff out of the cupboard. Harry watched Malfoy pushing the cakes into the oven on a baking tray, wondering if he really had just complimented Hermione. Malfoy made himself a glass of water and Harry watched him drink it, picking bits of cake mix off his hands as he did so. "Wash up." Malfoy ordered before leaving the room.
It was only fair, Harry thought, seen as he'd failed to be of much help anywhere else. He soaked the mixing bowl, but not before offering it to Charlie to lick. When he was done, he went in search of Malfoy, finding him knelt on the floor at Harry's bedside table looking at Harry's collection of pictures on the wall.
"God you're nosy." he sighed, plonking himself on the edge of his bed.
"Well you ask too many questions so we're even." Malfoy retorted. "I see you've put those pictures up."Harry had indeed put up all the pictures of Godric's Hollow that Malfoy had presented him with, and he nodded, watching them all move together in a row: thatched rooftops, golden and orange leaves, vivid meadows. Malfoy stood up and threw himself onto Harry's bed next to him, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the duvet.
"Malfoy?" Harry whispered, trailing his hand through blond hair that was still damp.
"Potter?"
"Do you want to come with me today?"
Malfoy snorted. "Do I want to come with you to Dean Thomas' Muggle tea party with all of your friends? I can't think of anything I'd want more."
I can, Harry thought, falling back on the bed to lay with Malfoy. He sighed, shifting himself closer to him so he could see the side of his face. Harry thought it was a good job he had it pressed into the bed sheets because he might ended up kissing him in a fit of emotional instability, and that might cause all sorts of problems - and one of them might end up dead. Deciding not to spoil the moment, Harry just kept watching, daring only to reach out his hand to thread his fingers with Malfoy's, feeling a cold palm beneath his own clammy one. Much to Harry's relief, he didn't pull away, but let Harry slide their fingers together, though his hand remained quite limp.
It would only be a matter of time before they'd have to address the situation, and Harry really wasn't looking forward to it. Of all people, Malfoy would be the one to take the greatest delight in Harry's secret desires. So far however, he was apparently just going along with it. "Are you just going to lie there all day?" Harry asked him.
"It depends."
Harry edged closer, intrigued. "What does it depend on?"
Malfoy looked thoughtful and he opened his eyes and faced Harry, looking briefly startled at how close his face was. "On whether..." Malfoy's hand suddenly responded to Harry's and he clenched it. "Whether you're..." Harry guessed he'd have trouble speaking too if someone was gripping his hand as hard as he was Malfoy's. "Cakes." Malfoy said.
"Cakes?"
"Got to -" he mumbled as he sat up, pulling his hand away from Harry's and leaving the room. "Got to check them!" Harry didn't move, but remained lying on the bed, questioning if Malfoy liked him at all and wondering if – given the chance – could he really shag a boy? "Potter!" Malfoy called from his kitchen. "Look how clever I am!"
The cakes did look very good, and Harry suggested they try one to see if they tasted as nice as they looked. Malfoy swatted his hand away, ordering Harry to make up several batches of icing to make them pretty. "You could ice your signature on them and everyone will clamour to get one." Malfoy suggested later on with a smirk.
"Very funny." Harry retorted, trying his best to pipe butter cream neatly onto a cake without getting it over the sides.
"I've done one with your face on." Malfoy announced, holding up a cake for Harry to see.
"Why am I cock-eyed?" Harry demanded. "With my tongue sticking out like a dog?"
Malfoy held back a smile. "That's what you look like."
"Stop wasting cakes." Harry snapped, snatching the offensive cake from Malfoy and putting it aside.
When they'd finished, Harry found himself quite excited. The cakes were better than anything he'd ever be able to create again, unless Malfoy was helping of course. Okay, so Harry's cakes were slightly more lopsided than Malfoys, but Harry could always tell everyone he'd made them all himself. That was probably better than saying he'd made them with a Death Eater anyway. "Mine are better." Malfoy said kindly voicing Harry's thoughts.
"You want a gold star?"
"I wouldn't say no." Harry boxed up the goods, proud of his efforts as Malfoy watched him, nibbling a reject cake Harry had botched up. When Harry had finished, he checked his watch to find it was quarter to three, leaving him little time to shower. "I'll clean up this mess and go." Malfoy said quietly, wetting a cloth under the tap. Harry hesitated, dithering in the doorway. "Go on." he prompted, shooing Harry away.
Harry relented and the water was cool on his skin, rinsing away whatever hangover he might have had and awakening his tired skin. He turned his face up to downpour and ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. He'd leave it there. He hated shaving at the best of times and he'd never had much luck the magic way either. When his skin felt considerably cleaner and awake, he hopped out of the shower and wiped the steam from his glasses and putting them on. He did the same for his mirror, jumping as it spoke to him. "Your quaint little friend was in here earlier." it sighed dreamily, making Harry frown. "Very well endowed." Harry blushed, standing in front of it while he brushed his teeth, thinking of quaint and apparently well-endowed Malfoy...
When Harry had changed, he wandered back into the kitchen, pulling a red t shirt on and starting at the sight of Malfoy: sat at his kitchen table chewing his lip. He stood up when Harry entered, and Harry noticed that he didn't accuse Harry of indecent exposure this time. "You're still here." Harry said. "Are you coming with me?"
Malfoy approached him. "No...I just..." Harry waited, watching Malfoy draw increasingly closer. He stopped just before Harry and pulled down the t shirt that was hitched at Harry's side, his hand lingering on his abdomen. Harry felt his muscles flex at the touch. "They keep you busy in The Ministry?" Malfoy asked in a strange voice.
"Jogging. Mostly." Harry replied hoarsely.
Malfoy slipped his cold hand beneath Harry's t shirt and touched the muscles Harry was tensing beneath them. "Yeah." Malfoy nodded his eyes alive and connecting with Harry's. "Potter?"
"Malfoy?"
His voice almost a growl: "Did you think about me in the shower?"
Harry decided that if there was flirting and touching taking place, he wasn't going to miss out. Malfoy's hand was still tracing over the muscles beneath his shirt as Harry wound an arm around his waist and pulled him close. "I did." he replied, marvelling at how different Malfoy looked from this close angle. How much better. "How did you know?"
Looking every inch like the cat that got the cream with narrowed eyes and a devilish smirk, Malfoy leaned close. "You look at me like you want Me." he murmured. "I like it."
Somewhere between two and three seconds passed as Harry walked Malfoy backwards until he came into contact with the kitchen table. Their breaths came short and sharp but once Harry had him there, Malfoy gasped as their lips collided and his spare arm wound around Harry's neck, the other clenching at Harry's hip. His mouth was hot against Harry's and he kissed him searchingly. Harry didn't know what he was doing and his hands shook as he tried to place them everywhere at once: on Malfoy's hips, in his hair, his arse. As he did so, Malfoy hissed beneath his loud and forceful kisses and he pulled the t shirt Harry had only just put on, off again. Harry let him, breathing deeply when he had to break away from Malfoy to tug it off. He crashed their bodies together again, letting Malfoy run his hands over the muscles in his torso and his back as he tore open the front of Malfoy's denim shirt, moving his hands over a surprisingly flat and solid chest. Malfoy's kisses were moving rapidly downward and Harry almost lost control when Malfoy got on his knees.
"What are you doing?" Harry said breathlessly. "What are you...?" With a seemingly practised technique, Malfoy deftly undid the buttons on his jeans with one hand, the other tracing absent patterns on his hip. Harry let out a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a moan.
"You sound like that bloody dog of yours." Malfoy breathed, undoing the zip.
"Less talking." Harry gasped, winding his hand into Draco's cold hair. Malfoy dragged his tongue along the skin just above Harry's pants and Harry groaned so loudly he almost didn't hear the knock at the door. "Shit." he snapped as Malfoy hauled himself up, pressing his mouth against Harry's in a searing kiss. "Mmm – No." Harry grunted, pushing Malfoy away.
"Pretend you're not in." the blond hissed, pressing his hips into Harry's and making Harry sure he looked like the cross-eyed cupcake Malfoy had iced. The idea was so very sorely tempting that he put his hand on the top of Draco's head, trying to make him go back down and continue with the previous activity.
"Harry!" Ginny called from the other side of the door.
"Ha!" Malfoy hissed, ducking his head and grabbing Harry's wrists. "Is that Weaselette?"
Harry let out a very different sort of groan and he wrenched free of Malfoy's grasp. "Malfoy-" Harry began, only to find the boy's hand pressed against his mouth.
"Just be quiet." Malfoy whispered. "If you can."
Harry shook his head frantically. This was all wrong. The letterbox rattled and Harry winced.
"Harry!" called Seamus in his Irish twang, then his voice grew quieter as he turned to Ginny. "Maybe he's already there."
"I know he isn't." Ginny replied.
"Bitch." Malfoy hissed, his hand dipping into Harry's boxers.
Harry tore himself away with all the strength he could muster, gasping as they broke contact. "Malfoy..."
"I thought you liked me." Malfoy snarled his expression furious.
"I do! But I'm not doing this with my friends on the doorstep!" Malfoy looked away and before Harry could say anything else, he'd turned on the spot and vanished. "Shit." Harry said again.
"Harry, we can hear you!" Seamus called.
"Okay!" Harry shouted to them. "I'm coming!"
Well he had been.
