There was a knock on the door.
Harry froze, because the only person he knew to use such an urgent knock was . . . well, it couldn't be him.
With a heavy sigh, he trudged across his grimy studio apartment.
"Draco?"
"Potter," he sneered, careless of the snowstorm surrounding him. "We need to—"
But before he could finish his sentence, Harry took a step forward and slipped on the ice in the doorframe. His glasses flew from his face, shattering into pieces that blended in all too well with the snow.
"Oh for Merlin's sake!"
As soon as Draco heaved him upward, Harry reached for his wand and murmured the repair spell.
"Fat chance. Not even magic can save those bloody things. Come on, then. Inside."
"But—"
"Do you actually live here? This is ghastly."
If Harry could see, he would've glared at him.
"I need new glasses. Draco—"
"The Muggles have shut everything down. No new glasses today."
"But I—"
"Interestingly enough, this works in both of our favor," Draco interrupted. "You need a pair of eyes and I need some answers."
Harry groaned. "I don't have a choice, do I?"
"Unless you plan on running into walls until the snow melts, you really don't."
"Ugh. Fine. But be easy on me, will you?"
Draco scoffed.
"Come on, Potter. You know me better than that."
"Do I? You've been running away from me for two years."
When Draco finally spoke, his voice was but a whisper.
"So make me stop running."