Faint piano chords echoed through the empty house. Harry paused, pressing his ear to the door, before entering.

Draco sat at the grand piano, his eyes closed and his lips moving with the barest of whispers, uttering words Harry could not hear. His pale fingers glided gracefully down the keyboard, tapping out a beautiful melody.

Harry leaned against the doorframe, content to listen, and not interrupt. Draco looked so peaceful, so at ease, his handsome face relaxed and almost childlike. He had not looked like this since the war.

As the final notes rang throughout the room, Harry set down the tray of food so he could applaud. Draco's eyes snapped open and he flushed. "I didn't realize you were standing there."

"You weren't supposed to," Harry said. "I was only here for a minute, anyway. That was lovely, Draco."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Draco's blush turned from pink to red and Harry smiled. Draco might have the icy act down, but he melted when Harry was around.

"I brought you food," said Harry. "You haven't come out of this room for hours, so I thought you might be hungry."

"Since when did you learn how to cook?"

"I learned how to cook as a child," he said, deliberately not mentioning why he'd learned to cook, because Draco hated hearing about the Dursleys. "Ron's mum taught me a bit, and Hermione helped. She picked up a few tricks while we were hunting for Horcruxes and living off of nothing but berries and bugs."

Draco wrinkled his nose, but his expression softened as he inhaled the delectable aromas of homemade soup and bread. "You did this…for me?" he asked incredulously as if he couldn't believe that someone had done something nice for him. "Thank you, I —"

"Don't," Harry said quietly, his eyes watching Draco carefully as he took the tray from Harry's hands. Their hands brushed and there was a spark, but it went ignored as Draco gazed at the food with something like awe. "Just enjoy and pray to Merlin that I didn't accidentally poison it."

Draco chuckled and dug in, not caring how unbecoming he looked; it was just his boyfriend. He had a second spoonful halfway to his mouth before he noticed Harry staring at him. "Something wrong?"

Harry didn't skirt around the truth, his question frank. "Have you ever had homemade food?"

Draco took his time, swallowing the soup and letting the warm liquid slide down his throat before he spoke. "Our house-elves made everything," he said. "Mother didn't want to cook, and I don't think Father cared enough to learn."

Something like pity stirred in Harry. While he'd grown up in unfortunate circumstances, he'd had the luxury of home-cooked meals. Although they were small portions, Aunt Petunia cooked decently. Draco had grown up rich and his every material need provided for him, but he'd not had any real comforts, like the warmth of a meal made by a loved one.

Well, as long as Harry was around, he would make sure Draco experienced all of these things.


514 words

366 - 94. Experience

1000 - 126. (object) piano

Founder Says - Helga - 2. "You did this...for me?"

All Aboard - Blue Train: Emotions - 9. Content

Honeydukes Hoarder - Gummies - 3. Harry/Draco