Where The Falcons Fly

by MyNameIsThunder

Where the Falcons fly, there's blood. Where Draco goes, there usually is too. That's his job, after all – heal morons and the people who get in their way. He could deal with that, he thinks, if only there wasn't Harry fucking Potter, Seeker, who gets injured a lot even by the Falcons' standards and seems to have made a habit of inserting himself in Draco's private life.

43. Notorious HJP

Okay, I don't know what to say other than I was in a hurry yesterday, but I somehow managed to cut the last part of the previous chapter while uploading yesterday. So you should probably go back and read that before continuing here!

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43. Notorious H.J.P. [Sunday, July 31st 2005]

"How do you feel?"

Harry looked up from the piece of toast he'd been staring at for two solid minutes. "They're doing it on purpose."

Draco nodded, eyes back on the frozen mouse he was thawing with his wand. He had a feeling he should find it disgusting, but in the end, this was just another cadaver. "Everything points to that, yes."

"Why do they do that to me?"

"Not to burst your bubble of self-pity, but I'm pretty sure they think they're doing it for you."

Harry sighed deeply, which marked the thirty-first time that morning. "I hate them so much."

"I know, darling." Draco smiled at him sweetly. "Unfortunately, they don't hate you."

"Don't you 'darling' me." Harry finally picked up his toast and used it to point at Draco. He then proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces unenthusiastically. "Somebody should tell them what a pain I am to be around … Hey, that could be your present to me."

"I tried to tell people for six years, remember? Didn't work."

"No no, don't sell yourself short." Harry dropped the last piece of toast back onto his plate, having eaten none of them. "You were pretty successful at times."

"But it didn't stick! And remember how much more they loved you afterwards?" Draco floated the warmed mouse over to the counter top where Emerald lounged.

Harry grimaced and pushed his plate away. "Alright, new idea: You could write me a sick note, right?"

"You might remember that your reserve is out of it for another week at least?" Draco gave him a pitiful smile. "Also, I do want to keep my job. Besides, you already made me promise not to get you a present."

"But you refused to make the Unbreakable Vow! And who knows, maybe they'll just reschedule if we don't have a Seeker."

They both watched as Emerald eyed her hovering breakfast for a few seconds and then struck suddenly and with lightning speed.

"Or the Falcons will have to forfeit," said Draco casually. "Either way, if you want me to write you a note, you'll have to fling yourself down the stairs first."

Sigh number thirty-two. "I hate you."

"You do that. Tell you what, just catch the Snitch as soon as possible and we can do what you want with the rest of the day. Movies? Food? Lie in bed and sulk all day?"

Harry threw a piece of toast. Presumably at Draco, but it never reached him. Then he sighed and got up. "Fine. But if they start singing, I'm going to kill someone."

~o~

Draco could tell it was going to be bad as soon as he stepped out onto the pitch. There were banners. There were balloons. People were chanting for Harry to come out. Most of them were dressed in Falcons merch. Some were wearing wigs. They probably also had lightning bolt scars painted on their foreheads, but it was too far to see.

Then there was Bagman, laying it on even thicker than usual. "Welcome everybody, on this beautiful Saviour's Day! As you know there typically are no matches on a holiday, but the Ministry has agreed to make an exception in honour of Britain's greatest hero. Here today are the Chudley Cannons, playing the Falmouth Falcons!"

There were cheers. There were fanfares. Some idiots set off fireworks, even though none of the players were even out yet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the Falmouth Falcons! Here are Haynes, Robinson, Mason, Armstrong, Montgomery, Mills and the man of the hour, Haaaaarry Pooootter!"

For a moment, Draco thought a sudden thunderstorm had hit them. Then he realised that what he thought were flashes of lightning and booms of thunder were really Saviour's Day fireworks. He knew for a fact that they were called that, because he had written more than one note reading 'patient blasted off insert-body-part-here by coming in contact with Saviour's Day firework' over the years.

Draco couldn't even see Harry's reaction through all the flashes and smoke, but he could very well imagine what it looked like. Then they started singing and Draco really hoped that nobody else could see Harry either.

The banners appeared at the same time. Apparently, every single person in the audience had one, and they formed a bigger picture when held up next to each other. One stand formed a gigantic lightning bolt that flashed every now and then. Another was a tiny Harry on his broom, chasing after the Golden Snitch. A third one was just his face, but enormous. Gigantic. Obscenely huge.

There were many more, but Draco didn't have time to check them out, because then the noise stopped suddenly and he caught the tail end of Bagman's announcement of the Cannons.

" – aaaand Harrington!"

Draco couldn't tell if people even cheered for the Cannons, because right then there was a massive crack and the sky broke open. Literally. People shrieked and shielded themselves with their banners. It was like someone was pouring out a bathtub right over the stadium. Immediately Draco was soaked to the bone.

"Aah," said Bagman in a voice that suggested this was only a slight nuisance. "Yeah well, that can happen when you set off too many of these fireworks at the same time. Well, it certainly helps with visibility."

That really was the only upside to it all – the downpour had dispersed all the smoke that had gathered and Draco could finally see Harry again. He was hovering in starting position, a strained smile plastered to his face and his expression made of stone. If Draco knew anything about Harry, the real storm was raging inside him.

The other players didn't seem happy either. The Falcons kept glancing up at Harry in concern. The Cannons were obviously trying very hard not to glare at him.

Draco didn't hear the whistle, but he did see the Quaffle being thrown up and then the match was on. Harry ascended so fast that the cameras had trouble keeping up with him. Draco didn't see why the screens had to show Harry in the first place. It was very unlikely that the Snitch would be seen this early into the game – again.

It was incredibly loud. People were singing and screaming and using their stupid fanfares. They weren't setting off fireworks anymore, but the damage was already done. The storm obviously wasn't about to die down anytime soon.

Draco didn't really understand why nobody thought to cast a repelling charm over the Quidditch arena before a match. Granted, there wasn't a limit to how high the players could fly, but given that the goal hoops were fixed at a reasonable height, it would be entirely possible to keep most of the players dry. The Seekers would have to manage, but it would still be far more comfortable. Draco was all in favour of repelling charms. Fuck those bloody fanatics who thought it would dampen the mood if the players were a little safer.

Seeker Desmond Harrington was the first casualty of the Saviour's Day match when his soaked gloves slipped on his broomstick. His face smashed against his broom, which resulted in a broken nose and a five-minute break to get him back into flying shape.

The remaining players used the opportunity to cast repelling charms at themselves to keep away the worst of the rain. Harry, who was wearing his Quidditch ring, couldn't do that, of course. Draco thought he should ask one of his teammates to help him out, but Harry had a very strong opinion on the matter. He didn't want to have to tell them why he had to wear the ring and Draco couldn't make him.

Draco thought about casting a mild repelling charm around himself, but ultimately decided against it. Those only really held when it wasn't raining too much and the wind stayed reasonable, which it wasn't and didn't. Draco couldn't cast a stronger charm, either. He needed to reserve enough of his magic for emergencies.

The break would have been the perfect opportunity for Harry to look for the Snitch in peace, but that idea was squashed almost immediately. Bagman said "Oh my, it seems that we are in for a treat now! Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you the cheerleaders of Britain's biggest Harry Potter fan club!"

"You have got to be kidding me," said Harrington, who was lying on the Cannons' Healer's bench. "How the hell is that fair?"

A group of around twenty scantily dressed women ran onto the field, each of them surrounded by a water-repelling bubble. They were jumping up and down and yelling something Draco couldn't understand. Then music picked up, though Draco couldn't recognise the song through all the noise either. The women started some kind of dance routine that involved a lot of pompon-waving.

The cameras were on Harry again, who obviously didn't have the slightest idea how to react to that. He did his best to keep a friendly face, but it looked so tense that Draco wouldn't be surprised to see it actually crack any second now. Harry's eyes also kept slipping away to scan the sky instead, like he was afraid to miss the Snitch. He must've been desperate to end the game at that point.

It was a scrap of comfort that the performance only lasted about two painful minutes. "Give it up for these incredible witches!" said Bagman. "What an impressive performance. Especially if you consider that they only had three weeks to rehearse. That's what I call dedication, right, Harry?"

Harry actually flinched at being addressed directly. He grimaced briefly and then managed to rein his face in again. He waved down at the witches and then quickly turned around towards the other end of the pitch. He didn't react when Bagman added, "All these ladies are single, by the way."

"Alright," groaned Harrington. "Let me get back up there before they announce Potter's strippers."

And then, thank Merlin, the match resumed, though it didn't get any better. The storm picked up even more. The spectators kept up their incredible noise level. Phaedra Armstrong collided with a rival Chaser when a witch in the stands lifted up her shirt and flashed them both. A Bludger hit Harry in the shoulder from behind, nearly throwing him off. For a moment it seemed like Harry would just grit his teeth and ignore the injury, but then his hand slipped on his broom at the next turn and he closed his eyes for a good two seconds before coming down after all.

He stumbled from his broom and Draco caught him with an arm around his waist, careful to avoid the injured shoulder. He propped him up and was just leading him over to the bench when a plush falcon fell from the sky and landed right next to them, its wings fluttering feebly.

"What the hell was that?" asked Harry, eyes closed again. He was shivering violently, though Draco couldn't tell whether it was because of the injury or the cold.

"They're throwing their merch at one of the Cannons' Beaters."

Draco made him sit on the bench and cast a repelling charm as well as a warming charm before doing anything else. Harry slumped forward and his frown eased a little.

"'Course they are," said Harry bitterly. "Aren't you going to tell me it's not as bad as I expected it to be?"

Draco huffed and pointed his wand at Harry's shoulder to reset it. "Even I could not make that sound believable. This is pure torture."

"Right? Those stupid fireworks, fucking hell. And now I've got to spend my birthday cold and wet and miserable. And it's so bloody loud up there like you wouldn't believe. I couldn't even hear that fucking Bludger until it hit me."

"No sign of the Snitch yet?"

Harry laughed, sounding actually a little insane. "None. But you know what I do keep spotting? Their stupid banners with the Snitch on it. That's a real help. You know, in case I forget what it looks like."

Thunder boomed and Harry jumped to his feet. He mounted his broom and Draco only just heard him say, "If they make me sign autographs, I'll honest to God kill someone!" before he kicked off.

~o~

The match lasted over five hours and ended on a score of 530 – 450 with the Falcons in the lead. Draco was wet and cold and miserable, and that was with the luxury of being on the ground. When Harry finally touched down, his legs wouldn't even carry him anymore and he landed with both knees in the mud.

Draco went over there as fast as he could, his own legs stiff and numb. He conjured a thick blanket, wrapped it around Harry's shoulders and then hoisted him up with both hands under his arms. The ground clung to Harry's legs and Draco needed three attempts before he finally managed to pull him out of the mud.

Harry seemed empty, like all fight had left his body. He just accepted Draco's arm around his waist and followed him blindly to the changing rooms. Draco did his best to check out the other players as they landed, but they seemed to be mostly alright. They were all tired-looking and shivering as well, but at least they could still find their own way into the warmth.

Harry dropped down on the nearest bench and pulled his legs up so he could hug them to his chest. Then he placed his head on top and closed his eyes again. Draco started with blow-drying his drenched clothes with his wand, which didn't elicit any response except that the shivering subsided somewhat. He was just rummaging through the tiny bag that was his portable apothecary when the door opened again and Greyson came in with his daughter following close behind.

"Well done, everyone!" he said enthusiastically, clapping Harry (who was nearest to the door) on the back.

Draco held Harry in place with a hand on his shoulder before he could fall flat on his face from the impact. He gave Greyson a very pointed look. "I just reset that shoulder, so if you wouldn't mind staying away from it, that would be much appreciated."

Greyson gave him a look that told him just how much he would like to be rid of him, while Harry barely reacted and began pulling off his gloves, which was a real feat, because his fingers were trembling so much. Draco took pity and helped him out, taking care to slide off his ring at the same time, so Harry's magic could finally start to combat all the harmful outside influences. Harry leaned back against the wall and took the vial of Pepper-Up Draco was offering.

"All right," said Greyson, clapping his hands while his daughter's eyes kept going back and forth between her father and Harry. "Hit the showers and then I want to see you all outside for press and fans."

Harry pressed the empty vial back into Draco's hand and lightly banged his head against the wall. "What for? That was abysmal."

Greyson crossed his arms and frowned at him. "You do realise we won?"

"Undeservedly."

The other players didn't seem to share that opinion. Robinson crossed her arms, a sour look on her face. "Well, I don't know about the rest, but I definitely gave everything I had, so maybe talk for yourself?"

"Yeah well, you couldn't really see what was happening on my end, could you?" The Pepper-Up was now making Harry steam from his ears, which definitely enhanced the angry look on his face. "They weren't giving everything. Not a single Bludger was aimed at me after they almost lynched Davies for hitting me that one time. They just pretended they couldn't see me!"

Montgomery laughed shortly. "So what, your complaint is that nobody tried to knock you off your broom?"

"Don't tell me you had fun out there!"

"Well, no, it was fucking awful, obviously. But that doesn't mean we didn't deserve to win!"

"Then let me tell you about that moment two fucking hours ago when the Snitch was right in front of Harrington's bloody face and he just let it go. Didn't want to get hit in the face with one of those stupid wigs, I bet. So we got to freeze to death for two more hours!"

Nobody had a reply to that. Greyson actually sighed heavily and shook his head like a teacher correcting a student. "Harry, come on. You probably didn't see it right. Harrington wouldn't just let the Snitch go. Just go out there and you'll see absolutely nobody believes that you didn't win fair and square."

"I know what I saw," said Harry hotly. His ears weren't steaming anymore, but his eyes looked like they might shoot lightning at anyone who came into his way. "And you're mad if you think –"

"Actually, I'll have to take Potter to St. Mungo's," said Draco casually before Harry could work himself into a rage.

"He looks fine to me, Malfoy!" Greyson was glaring at him. What else was new? "It will only take half an hour – maybe an hour, tops."

"Absolutely not. You don't want to risk him being sidelined, do you? I need to set his shoulder properly, or else there could be lasting damage. Besides, he'll definitely catch a cold if he goes out there again."

"I'll –!"

Draco didn't even wait for Greyson to pick up speed, but cut right across him. "I'm sure you have very reasonable arguments, but unfortunately I don't have time to listen to them all. We'll be off then. Oh, before I forget – the rest of you should take some Pepper-Up too and then stay warm for the rest of the day. Healer's orders."

Draco summoned six more vials from his bag, handed them to Robinson to distribute and then grabbed Harry's bag. Harry wrapped his blanket tighter around his body and stood up. His legs were still shaking slightly.

"See you at practice," said Harry, leaving immediately.

Some of the team wished him a nice birthday, but nobody seemed really sad to see him go, if you didn't count Greyson's daughter. She stared after him in disbelief, looking on the verge of running after him. She probably wasn't used to seeing people defy her father that openly.

Draco just gave Greyson a short nod and followed. Harry was waiting for him at the end of the hall where the back entrance was. He didn't exactly look strong enough to hold on to Draco for a three-jump Apparition, so Draco took hold of his upper arm and twisted.

~o~

"That was the worst birthday ever. And I'm counting the one where the fucking Minister of Magic burned a hole into my t-shirt." Harry was lying on his bed, naked from the waist up, and watched as Draco checked his shoulder.

"Consider me intrigued," said Draco, rummaging through his bag until he found the roll of Magi-Tape. "Alright, let me try something new."

Harry eyed it suspiciously. "What the hell is that?"

"This is all the rage in the U.S. right now. I imported it."

"And you're using it to tape me to the bed so I can't leave?"

Draco grinned. He ripped a piece of tape off the roll and tugged on both ends to see how much it would yield. "Tempting. But sadly, no. The tape redirects the flow of your magic to where I want it to go. I'll use it to stabilise your shoulder and speed up the healing process."

Harry dropped his head back into his pillow. "Perfect, let's do it!"

Unfortunately, applying the tape wasn't all that easy. Draco had to re-assess the injury very precisely and then pinpoint the usual flow of magic through Harry's body to see where he could divert it safely. It took nearly thirty minutes until Harry's chest and back were taped to Draco's satisfaction.

"Done," he said silently, putting away the tape. Harry was breathing evenly and didn't reply. He was lying on his stomach, facing away from Draco, and when Draco leaned over him to check, he saw that his eyes were closed.

Draco didn't see any reason not to get some rest, so he took off his still damp scrubs and lay down beside Harry. Then he wrapped the blanket around themselves as neatly as he could while lying on it, which really only worked because it was so enormous. As soon as he was warm and comfortable, the fatigue got to him, and Draco fell asleep almost at once.

~o~

It was dark when Draco woke up almost five hours later. He felt even more tired than before, and also very hot. He turned over to Harry's side and found it empty. The only reward was the blinding headache that picked up at once. Draco groaned and closed his eyes again. They were burning as well.

"Are you up?" Harry's voice came from downstairs.

Draco tried to answer and found that his voice was gone, but the effort of it made his throat itch horribly and when he coughed, it sounded quite chesty. Just great.

"Stay in bed!" Harry demanded. "I'll be back up in a minute. Just need to get rid of Odysseus first."

Draco groaned some more and buried his head underneath the pillow. He only came out again when he felt the bed dip. Harry looked down at him in concern and placed a cold hand on Draco's forehead. It was such a bliss that Draco forgot to chastise him for running around without a shirt. Not that he thought he could have voiced it.

"You look like shit," said Harry tactfully. "Guess you should've tasted some of your own medicine."

Draco swatted at him and then let his hand fall back against the pillow. Harry switched out the hand on Draco's forehead and Draco closed his eyes again.

"Do you have some here?" Draco nodded. "In your bag?" Draco nodded again and Harry leaned away to fetch it while his hand stayed on Draco's forehead.

"Accio Pepper-Up."

There was a clink, then a plop, and then Harry pressed something against his lips. Draco opened his mouth and swallowed the potion. It felt like burning through three days of fever in under a minute. The temperature inside Draco rose suddenly and then surged out through his ears. Draco waited another minute and then accepted Harry's help sitting up. The headache was gone, but he still felt light-headed and weak, which would take another day at the very least to fully subside.

Draco cleared his throat, which definitely felt better, and then jabbed Harry in the chest (lightly). "You should really put some clothes on."

"Don't you like what you see?" Harry grinned and turned this way and that so that Draco got a full view from all sides.

"Not particularly," said Draco, who wasn't that into Healing Tape and bruises that spanned half the torso. "What did Greyson want now?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably checking on me to see if I'm being a good boy and staying home, not going to any parties." He nudged Draco and then proceeded to drag the blanket out from under him with his good side. Then he plopped down beside him and covered both of them with it. "Kidding. He just wrote to see what they said at Mungo's and to tell me we're taking two days off to recharge."

"Finally, some sense."

Draco turned onto his side so they were face to face. Harry brushed some hair out of Draco's face and leaned over to kiss him softly, cold fingers dancing along his shoulder and down his bare left arm.

Draco didn't know how he could do it – Harry always pretended like it was completely normal – but Draco had long since stopped trying to keep him from touching his arm like there wasn't that fucking horrible scar branded into his skin. Harry only got angry at him if he did it, and Draco wanted to believe too much. Believe that Draco had worth despite that. Believe that Harry really had forgiven him. Believe that he could love him after all that had happened.

Draco kissed back with all he had, with all the want inside him, and only pushed him back when Harry started to grin against his lips.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to tell me to stop before I catch your cold?"

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled him in again. "Why would I? I'm not contagious."

They stayed in bed for another twenty minutes before Draco suddenly realised, "It's your birthday!"

Sigh number one-million-and-something (Draco was sure that Harry had added to it during the match and when Draco had been asleep). "Don't remind me."

"I feel bad. You didn't get to do anything fun."

"I didn't want to do anything fun, remember? I just wanted to ignore it. Besides, it was pretty funny watching you blow off Matt. Not having to go out there again was definitely the best present you could've given me."

"Still. It's only nine. What do you want to do?"

Harry sighed and turned to face the ceiling. "I could eat, I guess."

Draco shoved his shoulder (not the injured one – he was no monster!). "Always takes me back to our old St. Mungo's days when you get so unenthused about food."

"Sorry. Just a shitty day, is all. Fucking Witch Weekly." Harry sighed again and then seemed to gather his strength to get up. "Okay, let's get something to eat. What do you want?"

"It's your birthday!"

Harry crossed his arms. "But you are sick."

"And you are injured and probably also sick by tomorrow, if you don't put on some clothes soon."

Harry ignored what Draco had just said. "Just choose. I feel bad because you had to sit in the rain for five hours because of me."

"That wasn't because of you but your fan club. Besides, at least I could sit. You had to be inside the storm for five hours. Without magic."

"You ... are insufferable."

Draco smiled sweetly and said, "Does that mean you'll pick?"

He didn't wait to hear the reply and went into the closet, making a beeline for the designer clothes. Draco suspected that there was a dusting charm at work, because the clothes must've been gathering dust steadily with how seldom Harry wore them.

"Fine, let's just get something from Linh's." Harry leaned against the doorframe and watched Draco browse through his stuff. "You are aware that those are mine, right?"

"Painfully," said Draco, not even looking up from the dark pair of jeans he'd picked out. He held them up for Harry to see while going over to the shirts. "Also, don't tell me you would ever wear these."

"Why would I wear them? They are shredded! I like my knees covered, thank you very much."

"They are not shredded, they are ripped. Purposefully. It's fashion."

"I hate fashion. Fashion can bite me. Especially the Witch Weekly Wardrobe Check. Hate that one. Samantha keeps sending me the cut-outs. They keep making 'suggestions' for me. That's polite for 'dragging my outfit choices through the mud'."

Draco grinned. He certainly couldn't blame them. "Well, you still need to get dressed. Maybe put on real trousers, too. Your Quidditch trackies will probably start to smell soon. Come to think of it, you should just take a shower. Your hair looks like several birds nested there for three consecutive summers."

"Look who's talking." Harry came over and dragged both hands through Draco's hair. He grinned. "I didn't know your hair gets wavy."

Draco scowled, threw the jeans over his arm and then tried to smooth his hair. He hated when his hair did that. That was why he always dried it off with his wand. "I'm sick, which means you have to be nice to me."

"Fine." Harry grinned even more. "You can take a shower too."

Draco shrugged. He felt pretty chilly after burning through his fever, so why shouldn't he let himself be boiled for a few minutes?

~o~

"Boys!" Jian actually threw her hands up in agitation. "Where have you been?"

"It's Harry's fault!"

"Hey!" Harry gave him a scandalised look and actually stepped away from him.

"It is! You cook too much."

Harry lifted his chin several inches. "Fine, I won't anymore."

Jian didn't even ask if they were going to stay or take their food home. She just grabbed a couple of menus and led them over to a vacant table while chatting with Harry. "Are you a good cook?"

"Alright, I guess."

Draco rolled his eyes and gave Harry a shove from behind (on his good side, of course – still not a monster!). "He's really good."

"Great!" Jian sounded way too excited. "We actually need another cook. How about it?"

"Er," said Harry, laughing nervously. "I've actually never done Chinese. I also already have a job."

"Ah, yes, yes!" said Jian, still very cheerful. "The football, right? I'm afraid I don't really know much about it. What's it like being a footballer?"

"Er –" Harry gave him a panicked look.

"He's not allowed to talk about work today," said Draco. He plucked the menus from her hand and added on a whim, "It's actually my birthday."

Confusion was written all over Harry's face, but he wasn't stupid enough to object. Jian actually clapped her hands. "How wonderful! Congratulations! What can I get you?"

They ordered their usual and then watched her out of sight. Harry turned to face Draco as soon as she vanished into the kitchen.

"Another birthday?" he asked, trying for casual. "Isn't one enough for you?"

Draco shrugged. "Feels wrong to just ignore this day. And if you don't want it, someone should claim it, right?"

Harry snorted and shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to be with someone who's normal."

"Share your wisdom with me if you ever find out," said Draco.

Harry tried to kick him under the table, but Draco caught his foot between his own legs. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled, making Harry slide down the bench under much protest.

He let go when Jian reappeared suddenly, but it was too late. She was laughing silently as she unloaded two colourful cocktails in front of them, one of which had a sparkler in it.

"On the house!" said Jian cheerfully, looking from Draco (who tried to look dignified) to Harry (who was just resurfacing and straightening his clothes). "How old are you now?"

"Thank you! I'm twenty-five," said Draco, ignoring the accusing look Harry gave him.

"Could've fooled me," muttered Harry under his breath. "Behaving like a bloody eight-year-old."

"That was all in defence!" said Draco.

Jian laughed and smiled at them fondly. "To be young again. And when's your birthday, Harry?"

Harry grimaced and glared at Draco in not so silent accusation for bringing the topic up. "I don't really celebrate my birthday …"

Draco plucked the sparkler out of his drink and used it to point at Harry. "Doesn't stop you from ageing, though. He's also twenty-five."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're certainly not seventeen anymore," said Draco bluntly while Jian giggled and then left them to their squabble. He leaned over to tug at the one curl that was always on scar duty. "Is that a grey hair?"

Harry swatted his hand away, trying intently not to grin. "Never have I ever been insulted like that. And today of all days!" There was a pause as Harry leaned back slowly, folding his arms and stretching his legs so they were getting tangled with Draco's. "What else?"

Draco grinned and launched into his list (which he was making up as he went along, but Harry didn't need to know that) while Harry sipped his cocktail and grinned way too much as he talked back.