30. Counting down the days to go [Wednesday, February 2nd 2005]
"Nobody needs five different knives, Potter!"
Harry grabbed Draco's wrist when he tried to remove the knife set from his shopping trolley. "You asked me for help, so let me help. Merlin knows you are in desperate need of it."
"I asked for your help buying one pot. Just the one. Pot. Not knives, not a bloody rolling pin and certainly not whatever that is." Draco gestured at the strange metal thing at the bottom of his trolley.
"It's a potato masher and you need it." Now Harry grabbed Draco's left hand too, which was the only reason the damned masher stayed where it was.
"What for?" Draco cried out. He thoroughly regretted asking Harry for help now. That man was a maniac when it came to cooking utensils. All Draco wanted was a second pot, was that so hard to understand?
"Mashing potatoes?" Harry said, clearly implying Draco was an idiot. His eyes focused on something behind Draco and he let go of him. "Pasta machine! You definitely need that."
Harry dashed away and Draco seized the moment. The trolley was gone when Harry came back, carrying a box under his arm and looking down at his mobile phone in the other hand.
"Did somebody send you a message?"
"Yeah, Ella wants to know what I'm up to." Harry put the mobile away and made to put the box into the trolley … which wasn't there anymore. He held the box in the air for a second, turning around to look for it. "Malfoy!"
"Oh, what, now it's 'Malfoy' again?" Draco observed. "No trolley, no useless stuff. Put that back, I'm not buying a fucking pasta machine."
"But how else will you make pasta?" Harry made no move to surrender his loot.
"I won't." Draco grabbed a pot from the nearest shelf. "I'm buying this and nothing else. Let's go."
"You can't buy that one," Harry said, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"You've had your chance," Draco said resolutely. "I'm not taking any more of your advice."
"Well, you should," Harry replied, setting aside his pasta machine. "Because that's the display model. You have to take one of the boxes underneath."
Draco glared at him while switching his pot for one of the boxes. Stupid Muggles. Why would he want to buy something in a box? He wanted to see what he was buying, not trust what the box said.
"Also, that's a pressure cooker."
"So?" Draco pressed out, grabbing his box tighter. The sooner they left this place, the better. Half an hour was way too much time spent on buying one single pot.
"Do you know how it works?"
"How it works?" Draco repeated. "Water inside, fire underneath. Done."
Harry took the box from him and put it back on its shelf. "I don't think you're ready for that just yet."
"Oh, so now you're lowering your expectations?"
"I just don't want you to hurt yourself trying to make instant soup."
"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!" Somebody in this shop was prone to injury, but it certainly was not Draco.
"Well, you are definitely more Black than me."
A passing woman shot them a decidedly incredulous look and dragged her son out of their aisle in a hurry. Draco could see where her confusion came from – Blaise had more than once told him that he was the whitest boy alive. And Harry was … well, not. Even if he wasn't black per se.
"She probably thinks you've lost it."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Harry said unconcernedly. "Hey, remember when you told Skeeter I was 'disturbed and dangerous'?"
Draco groaned. "First of all: I only told her about the Parseltongue, the rest she made up on her own. Secondly: Could you please let that go? How many times do I have to say that I'm sorry?"
"I'd settle for once."
They looked at each other, both of them standing still. Harry seemed expectant; Draco was perplexed. Surely he must have apologised already? Sometime during the last months in which they had gotten to know each other better? He couldn't remember, but now that he was really thinking, apologise was not something he usually did.
Best to just get it over it.
Draco took a deep breath and said, maybe a little bit rushed, "I'm sorry for everything I did from age eleven to seventeen. I shouldn't have done it and I feel awful about most of it."
"Most of it?" Harry repeated, furrowing his brow.
"Come on, even you must admit that Hagrid was not a good teacher."
Harry crossed his arm defensively, ready to go on a rampage if need be.
Draco put up a hand to stop him before he could begin. "Yes, he may be very knowledgeable when it comes to his creatures, but he has no idea how to convey any of it. Also, his methods are downright dangerous."
"I don't think we'll ever find common ground when it comes to Hagrid," Harry grumbled, but then he ruffled his hair absentmindedly and Draco knew that Harry agreed at least partially. He would just never admit it to him.
It suddenly dawned on Draco that Harry could have taken Emerald to Hagrid instead of him. Why hadn't he?
"This one?" Draco asked, holding up what he hoped was a different box. Anything to change the topic.
"Over my dead body," Harry replied, and then he wandered off in search of an acceptable pot.
Draco had to endure another fifteen minutes of that before they finally left the shop with his brand-new, Potter-approved pot (and also a very sharp knife that Draco could not talk him out of).
They were searching for a quiet alley they could Disapparate in, when suddenly someone honked directly next to them. Draco stumbled into Harry, which was good, because that way nobody could see Harry's wand, which had found its way into his hand in the fragment of a second.
"Get in losers, we're going shopping!"
A very small, very red car stopped next to them and Ella Reyes, one of Harry's Muggle friends, waved at them through the open window. Olivia Townsend, part of the lesbian couple, was driving.
"As you can see, we've already been shopping," Draco replied, holding up his bag.
"It's just a figure of speech." Ella grinned while Olivia ignored the line of cars that was building up behind her.
Draco exchanged a confused look with Harry to see if this was another kind of Muggle idiom, but he just shrugged helplessly.
"God, they haven't seen it. Liv! They don't know it. Get in!"
Draco shot Harry a look that clearly conveyed that there simply was no way in hell he would get into that car. Everybody knew those things were unsafe. Draco could tell by the grin that spread on Potter's face that he could read his expression perfectly.
Cars were beginning to flash their lights now, which seemed to spur Potter into motion. He took Draco's bag and handed it to Ella, then opened the door and tried to push Draco in.
"Don't you dare!" Draco yelled, hanging on to the top of the car for dear life while Potter pushed with everything he had. "I'll curse you; I mean it!"
But then Potter tickled his sides and Draco couldn't help but let go. They fell into the car in a heap, Potter half on top of him, and he could hear the door snap shut. He only got off of him when the car began to move. Draco definitely couldn't get out now. He flipped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," Potter said, and then Draco was pulled into a sitting position.
Potter leaned over him (Draco could smell his peppermint shampoo and his stomach did a somersault that had nothing to do with the car) and pulled some kind of harness across Draco's chest, tying him to the seat.
"I hate you so much."
"No, you don't," Potter replied, way too sure of himself.
"I wish I did."
Draco grabbed the door handle as they flew around a corner, and, to his horror, it yielded. Potter flung himself across the backseat again and grabbed the door, slapping Draco's hand away in the process.
"That one opens the door," he yelled.
"I've thought about it, and I definitely do hate you!" Draco yelled back, bracing himself against the roof.
"What's wrong with him?" asked Ella in a completely reasonable volume as she turned in her seat, grabbing her headrest.
"He's got a phobia," Potter said, probably because he couldn't very well tell them that Draco had never been in a car before.
"It's not a phobia if it's a reasonable fear," Draco pressed out through clenched teeth, because honestly.
And then, thank Merlin, the car stopped. The action was so abrupt that Draco was flung face-first into Olivia's headrest, but as long as they stood still, he didn't even care.
"Harry James!" said Olivia in a stern voice that didn't match her sweet-tempered personality and delicate stature in the slightest. Potter and Ella both flinched as she turned around and glared at him. "Why would you make poor Draco get into the car if you knew he's afraid?"
Potter pressed his back into the seat, trying to create some distance. "He just needs to face his fear for once, then he'll see how stupid it really is."
"Know what's really stupid? That idea."
"Nah, I saw it in a movie once," Ella chimed in. "Exposure therapy works for some things."
"So, you're qualified psychotherapists, the two of you?"
They mumbled something unintelligible while Olivia ignored the cars that were honking behind them.
"I like her," Draco said, fumbling with his harness-thing.
Harry, who deserved to be thought of by his first name again, now that he wasn't being a wanker anymore, leaned over and unstrapped him, which was a literal weight off Draco's chest.
"I'll walk you to Ella's," Harry said. Which they probably wouldn't do, because which wizard in their right mind even walked anymore if they could help it?
"Thank … Jesus Christ," Draco said, correcting himself at the last moment.
"Almost right," Harry commented with a grin, removing his harness as well. Then he added casually, "You know, I really thought you could take it. Guess I overestimated you."
And Draco, always susceptible to Potter's taunts, rose to the challenge with a sigh and tied himself back to the car. "I hate you so much."
Potter grinned at him broadly, then joined Ella in a high-five. Olivia turned around and actually banged her head against the steering wheel.
"Boys," she groaned loudly. "What is the point of them?"
They drove the rest of the way much slower than before. Draco guessed that Olivia usually did not get overtaken that often. He could not remember the last time somebody had been this considerate of his feelings and felt rather grateful to her.
It really was a shame that she fancied women. And that he did not. Though, if his parents were to be believed, that was not really an issue at all. Then again, he would probably go mad if his partner coddled him like that all the time.
~o~
Ella and Callum's apartment was completely plastered with framed movie posters. Some of them showed people Draco had seen on the covers of Muggle magazines, the kind his neighbour Mrs. Maloney liked to read. Every culture needed its icons, Draco thought. Someone everybody could gossip about without facing repercussions.
Harry interrupted his inspection by dragging him over to where the TV stood. They sat down on the middle couch, which – by the look of its worn cushions – seemed to be the best of the three. The girls were busy in the kitchen, so Draco leaned over to him and asked, "So, what are the rules here?"
"Just don't ask stupid questions while they are there. And Ella will talk a lot and analyse everything, so maybe just try to keep up with the movie. Oh, and you must eat copious amounts of popcorn."
"Nice try, Harry," said Ella, and then she and Olivia sat down on his right, squishing Harry against Draco and Draco against the armrest in the process.
"Cuddly," Olivia commented, draping an arm over the backrest. Probably because there was nowhere else for it to go. She started to rearrange Harry's hair, which was, of course, a lost cause, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Restricting," Draco disagreed, acutely aware of where they were pressed against each other.
"You're free to switch," Ella said, indicating the other couches.
Harry grabbed the only thing he could reach, which was Draco's wrist. "We can definitely outlast them!" he announced fiercely.
Which was why they were still jammed together an hour and a half later. At least Draco didn't have to worry about being pressed up against Harry anymore – his right arm had gone to sleep over an hour ago.
"So?" Ella asked excitedly. "What do you think, Draco?"
"Er …," Draco said, looking at Harry for help. What did people usually say after watching a movie? What were the criteria? Harry looked back at him expectantly, being no help at all. "It was titled accurately? Those girls were definitely mean."
"I know, right? I love it so much, I already watched it like five times."
"Didn't you get the DVD for Christmas?" Olivia said in a judgemental tone. And then, thankfully, she stood up to stretch her legs in what was probably a yoga pose.
"It's gonna be a classic," Ella stated confidently. "I'm just ahead of my time."
"Callum's back," Harry said suddenly, a second before they heard the keys in the lock and Callum came in.
"Hey girls," he said, dropping a folder onto the coffee table. He spotted the three of them still huddled together and grinned. "Oh, Harry and Draco are here as well. When did you two get together?"
"Er – I think it was around ten?" Harry guessed. "What time is it now?"
Ella laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. "No, when did you get together?"
"Oh, no," Draco spluttered, leaping to his feet so fast Harry fell into the empty space Draco had occupied. "That's not… we're not. No."
"Wow. Thanks, Draco," Harry said drily.
The Muggles were looking at Draco with raised eyebrows. Like they couldn't comprehend how Draco could even dare reject their precious friend.
Harry regained their attention by getting up as well. "It's complicated."
"It's stupid," Ella said bluntly. "He's clearly into you and we all know you've had a crush on him since –"
"Wow, would you look at the time!" Harry grabbed their jackets from one of the empty sofas. "See you next year, maybe."
"I think I'll stay," Draco said with a grin. "I'm very interested in hearing the rest of that sentence."
"Are you also interested in being thoroughly interrogated by these lunatics? Previous relationships, childhood stories –"
Draco snatched his jacket from Harry. He was definitely not ready to fabricate a completely Muggle-worthy childhood without supervision. Also, his love life was way too pathetic to tell anyone about. People usually thought that something was wrong with you if you told them that you only had one relationship in the last five years, which hadn't even lasted a full two months. Or that your last casual hook-up had practically begged you to never contact them again when they finally recognised you in the morning. He hadn't even told Blaise about that one.
"Thank you for inviting us; the popcorn was excellent." Draco inclined his head towards Olivia. "Tell Lauren I said hello."
Harry just yelled "Bye!" and then they were out of the door before anyone could stop them. In silence they walked down the busy street until they finally found a deserted side alley.
"Want to come back to mine for some tea?"
"This is not a date, Potter. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Yes, yes, I know. I'll behave, I promise."
"Fine," Draco said, because he didn't have anything better to do.
He took hold of Harry's arm, which was a very big mistake. They turned and reappeared somewhere outside. Draco only got a fleeting look at some trees and then Harry grabbed Draco's arm, preventing him from letting go. They turned again (Draco's stomach right along) and ended up in another dark alley. But Harry was not done yet. The third jump was even more brutal than the last and Draco fell against Harry's hallway wall, trying to keep the popcorn where it was.
"What the fuck was that?" he groaned, taking shallow breaths. "You don't live overseas, Potter. One jump is definitely enough."
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, ruffling his hair. He didn't seem worn out in the slightest, but at least he looked somewhat rueful. "Should've warned you."
But he didn't explain what all those detours were about, deciding to escape into the kitchen instead. Draco took another minute to compose himself before following him. He definitely needed a cup of tea now. His stomach was in a considerable uproar.
"Spoons are in the leftmost drawer," Harry told him, looking up from the tea-kettle.
Draco stumbled towards the drawer that was closest to him and yanked it open. Was this what being under the influence of Confounding Concoction felt like?
"Left! Draco, that's not left!"
"Hey, that's my wand!" Draco yelled, looking down at his very first wand (ten inches, hawthorn and unicorn hair, reasonably springy). Harry closed the drawer forcefully, nearly jamming Draco's fingers.
"No, it's not," he corrected.
"Yes, it is!" Draco argued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I bought it at Ollivanders, fourteen years ago!"
"Yes, well, and I took it from you seven years ago," Harry shot back.
"Fine, then I'm taking it back now," Draco said and before Harry could react, he had opened the drawer again and taken the wand out. "How do you like that, hm?"
"It doesn't work like that!" Harry yelled exasperatedly.
Suddenly, a comfortable warmth was spreading up Draco's wand arm, and the lamps along the wall were growing steadily brighter. The gas stove-top lit up behind Harry and he jumped, grabbing Draco's arm reflexively. Whether this was for support or to restrain him, Draco didn't know.
"Well, apparently it does," Draco said, grinning. Harry looked extremely puzzled.
"But you didn't defeat me."
"There, see for yourself," Draco offered him the wand. "Do something."
Harry took it and turned it over in his hands thoughtfully.
"Nox." The lights went out at once and Harry cast him a triumphant look.
"Come on, that doesn't prove anything," Draco rolled his eyes. "You could probably cast Nox even without a wand. Try something challenging."
For a moment, Harry did nothing. Then he closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips. He raised the hawthorn wand wordlessly and a bright, silver stag broke from it. It pranced around the two of them once, orbiting them like their own personal moon, and then turned to mist.
"Show-off," Draco muttered and Harry laughed and put the wand back in the drawer.
"Not my fault you chose to light a campfire for your performance," Harry teased him.
"I didn't choose anything, it just happened," Draco answered. "And I couldn't have conjured a Patronus even if I wanted."
"You can't –?" Harry started and Draco shot him a warning glance.
"Let's not go there," he interrupted and then quickly changed the topic. "A wand can't serve two wizards at once, can it?"
Harry just shrugged and handed him his tea. "Let's definitely not go there."
And they left it at that.
