Grey Day Conversation

Author: Owlbutter
Rating: K+ or PG
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word count: 423
Disclaimer: The characters and universe never have, and never will belong to me.
Summary: After an argument, Draco returns to Harry's home to try and make amends.

After the second knock Harry answered the door.

"You're still wearing your pyjamas."

Draco watched as Harry fingered the hem of his tartan sleeve, and then saw him shrug. "I didn't feel like changing," he said dully. "Did you forget your key?"

"I thought you might not want to see me." Draco shifted the newspaper in his hand, smudging the ink slightly with his sweaty palms.

Harry nodded, and looked to the ground. Nodding again, he turned and walked down the hall. Draco stepped inside - shutting the door behind him - and made his way through to the empty living room. Further in, he could hear the clatter of cutlery, and a jug on the boil. He took a seat on the sofa, and began tidying up the cushions.

At length, Harry returned, sitting beside Draco and placing a mug in front of him. It was very delicate, and blue, with a gilt lip and artfully curled handle. Draco insisted on using it every morning with breakfast, and more often than not dinner too, which meant that Harry had to keep it clean at all times.

Harry had pushed himself deep into the cushions, and was looking at his own drink very quietly.

"Are we going to talk?"

"If you want." Harry was still staring into his mug.

"Harry, I'm sorry."

"No, you aren't." Harry frowned.

"Look, be reasonable-"

"I am. You're here nearly all the time anyway. It's convenient. It's ... nice."

Draco could feel the situation turning into a repeat of the one earlier that morning. "It is pokey, and it is economical, and there are no cupboards anywhere!" Harry lowered his gaze even more, and swirled his tea. "How are any of my things going to fit? You only live here because it's hard to find places this close to work anyway."

Harry nodded, shoulders tense. "Well then, that's it."

Draco took a breath. "Harry, I don't want to move in with you."

Harry looked miserable.

Draco tossed the newspaper onto the table, and it unfolded, revealing a flurry of red circles. "You moving in with me, however, is decidedly more suitable." He finally reached for his mug, turning it slightly to avoid the chip in the rim as he drank. Fixing his attention awkwardly on the opposite wall, he pictured the face now staring at his own.

Harry's head dropped onto his shoulder, and he could feel the delighted smile being pressed into the fabric of his clothing.

And the hand slipping inside his robes.

"You're still wearing your pyjamas too."

The End