Hi! I am once again apologizing for the lateness of this update lol. Hope that you're still enjoying the story and are looking forward to more though!

Thanks for reading :3

Xxxx -DxH- xxxX

"What the bloody hell…." Draco groaned, raking a hand through blonde locks as he began to pace around their new living room. "I'm gonna go bloody bonkers."

Harry was in a similar state of disarray—though his disbelief was mostly internalized. He merely sat on the couch, staring at the wall with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Where did it all go wrong? Not long ago he was living a perfectly normal life. He was enjoying his job as an Auror, enjoying the ability to live without fear of hiding or being killed—enjoying the chance to finally, finally be someone normal. Yet, as fate would have it, apparently he just wasn't meant to live such a life. Now he was under house arrest, hiding from snatchers that wanted to kill him, he had a wound from dark magic on his body that wasn't healing, and, to top it all off, he was stuck living with pretty much the only person on earth that he couldn't stand, without the ability for either of them to use magic. Oh yeah—and the two of them shared some sort of sick and twisted telepathic bond while also sharing sensations relating to pain?

What the bloody hell, indeed.

Apparently Draco had enough of wallowing in self pity, and decided to go look for food. He stalked into the kitchen without a word, leaving Harry in the silence of his own thoughts.

Not 5 minutes had passed before Harry was broken out of his trance by an urgent voice calling, "Potter!"

Harry groaned, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. He was running on almost no sleep, no food, and his whole body hurt. "What?"

"Come here!" Draco demanded. He was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the contents of the cupboard he had opened.

Harry rubbed his eyes again. "What, Malfoy."

"What the bloody hell are we supposed to eat?!"

Harry peered inside. The cupboard was stocked with a menagerie of processed and instant foods—several boxes of cereal, bags of potato chips, crackers, instant mashed potatoes, a sizable stash of random candy strewn haphazardly across one of the shelves… He opened the next cupboard over. A large bag of trail mix sat atop the first shelf. The second shelf was empty, save for a pile a crumbs from whatever had been sitting there previously. The next shelf down was stocked full. Nearly a dozen cans of spray cheese were lined neat as soldiers next to one another.

A quick survey of the rest of the kitchen left Harry with the dull pain of a headache forming in his temples. The fridge was nigh empty—likely because no one had lived here for a while. There were a few things: a pitcher of orangish-brown liquid, a half-eaten jar of dill pickles, a bottle of yellow mustard, and a carton of half a dozen or so eggs. He didn't trust one single thing in that fridge.

His temple throbbed.

…it appeared more like they were staying in a bachelor pad rather than an Auror safe house.

As Harry's irritation mounted, Draco, meanwhile, was still examining the cans of spray cheese with a truly affronted expression. "Cheese? In cans? What the bloody hell are these Muggles thinking?! Is this even edible? It's a joke, right?"

Harry sighed wistfully. Someplace, somewhere, there was a beautiful sunny beach…white sands, warm breeze…a lounge chair with his name on it, the sounds of the tropics calling out to him—

"Potter!"

"What!" Harry snapped back, pulled out of his 5 second daydream.

Draco fixed him with a scowl. "What. Are we. Supposed. To eat."

"Eat whatever you want, Malfoy."

"You've seen the cupboards. There isn't anything remotely edible in them."

Harry rolled his eyes, turning to rummage around the shelves of the first cupboard that Draco had opened. He gathered two bags of Sour Cream & Onion and Salt & Vinegar potato chips into his arms. He opened and closed several other cupboards. There was one cupboard that held a variety of beverages—bottled water, several kinds of canned soft drinks. Harry grabbed a root beer and made his way back to the living room.

He flopped onto the couch, cracking open the can. Root beer and potato chips for breakfast.

Boy if his parents could see him now.

The thought was oddly random, but immediately left a bitter taste in his mouth. He frowned, trying to wash it away with a swig of root beer. Opened the chips and popped a few in his mouth.

Sirius probably ate like this when he was about my age, Harry thought. And it made him feel better. Thinking about a young Sirius, 20-something, with wild black hair eating junk food in his pajamas. He grinned a bit somberly and chugged some more of the root beer. Maybe, if things were different, Sirius, his dad, and Remus might've lived together in a place like this. Even Wormtail might've still been a part of their ragtag group. If they had all been born Muggles, knowing nothing of the magical world. Harry could picture them easily, playing cards at the dining table, watching movies in the living room. The kitchen would probably look no different. He chuckled at the thought. How different his life might've been, if they had simply all been born Muggles.

If magic didn't even exist.

He swallowed the last of his root beer and forced the bitter tears back. The past couldn't be changed, and there was no sense moping and thinking about what could've been. They all would want him to live without regret—his parents, Sirius, Remus…all those they lost in the war.

Harry sighed, trying to turn his thoughts away from such somber topics. The root beer wasn't as flat as he thought it would be. It was hard to say how often this place was used—or restocked, for that matter. Most of the stuff in the cupboards had long shelf-lives, and had likely been there for a while. It would probably be wise of them to put together a list of groceries and supplies for Knightly to pick up for them. Something told Harry that Malfoy wasn't going to be as keen on surviving on Muggle junk food as he was. Speaking of…

He listened for a moment.

Silence.

A small pang of pity settled itself into his stomach. He supposed be could at least try to direct Draco to some of the more edible options in the kitchen. No sense in letting him starve. Besides—now that they were linked together with that curse, letting Draco starve would probably come back to bite him in the butt somehow.

He made his way back to the kitchen.

Draco was staring between the contents of one of the cupboards, his face waning between miserable and…pouting?

It stirred something in Harry.

Nausea, likely.

Maybe it was the root beer and Salt & Vinegar chip combo. Not the easiest thing to digest first thing in the morning. He brushed it off and announced his presence in the kitchen with a sigh. Or maybe Draco already knew he was in there. Damn, did he hear anything Harry had been thinking earlier about Sirius and his parents? Hopefully not.

Draco glanced up as Harry made his way to the fridge.

"Move. Let me find something edible enough for your refined palate, young master."

Draco simply scowled. Likely too afraid that Harry would abandon him to his devices if he made a snarky comeback.

Harry bustled around for a bit, digging through the freezer before he came up triumphant. "Aha!"

"What is that?"

"The perfect thing for breakfast!"

"Which is…?"

"Frozen waffles."

Draco blinked. "Frozen…"

"Waffles," Harry finished with a nod. He slapped the box on the counter (thankfully unopened, so hopefully they shouldn't be too freezer-burnt), and then began poking around a few more cupboards, finally pulling something shiny out and plopping it onto the counter.

"And what," Draco shook his head in disbelief, "in the world is that?"

Harry wanted to laugh, he really did. Draco's expression was an equal mix of curiosity and veiled fear. He probably thought it was a bomb or something. Harry forced down his mirth and addressed Draco seriously, "This, is one of the most important inventions that Muggles have contributed to the art of cooking."

Draco still stared at it with the utmost look of hesitation. "Right…"

"You can do wondrous things once you learn the art of the toaster." Harry nodded sagely. He honestly didn't know why he was going to such lengths to pull Draco's leg, but it would be amusing to him, nonetheless.

Xxxx -DxH- xxxX

"Wait, wait, wait—I'm sorry, a toaster?" Blaise stared down his best mate for less than a second before erupting into cackles. "Dray Dray…a toaster…unbelievableee," he wheezed between breaths, cackling all along.

Draco rolled his eyes, withstanding the teasing. "Amused, Zabini?"

"Ahhh, you're so cute~"

"Oh, knock it off, Blaise." Pansy rolled her eyes. There was amusement clearly written on her face, though. She dropped her voice low enough that only Theo and Blaise on either side of her could hear and spoke through gritted teeth, "If you tease them too much, there's no way that we're going to hear any of the good parts!"

"Oh, you just what to hear about their bedroom activities. You are nasty, woman," Blaise hissed back between teeth, meeting Draco's narrowed stare with a dazzling smile.

"Do not," she hissed back, sending her own award-winning grin at Draco.

"Oh, would you two please stop," Theo cut in, taking a sip of his coffee. He paused with the rim by his mouth and breathed, "Childish," before returning the cup to the table.

Pansy clicked her tongue and sniffed indignantly, putting on an air of innocence. Blaise pretended to fix one of the buttons on his blazer.

"Are you three done over there?" Draco asked dryly.

"Whatever do you mean, Draco~ We weren't discussing anything!" Pansy replied sweetly. She turned and sent Harry a mischievous smirk.

Harry wondered if being able to smirk like that was a prerequisite that all Slytherins were born knowing how to do. He returned the look with an awkward grin.

"Never mind them." Draco made shooing motions towards their side of the table.

"Pfft. Doesn't even know what a toaster is." The remark was muttered under-breath, but it still drifted to a certain blonde's ear.

Draco side-eyed the redhead. "What was that, Weasley?"

Ron looked up at the ceiling innocently. "Huh? Nothing…"

"It's not unusual that he doesn't know what it is, Ronald," Hermione cut in. "If Mr. Weasley wasn't as fascinated with Muggle objects as he is, then I doubt you would have a clue either."

"Sure sure," Ron responded blithely. He was clearly putting on the superiority act here and egging Draco on on purpose.

Before Harry could say something to bring him down a peg though, Hermione beat him to it. "Oh? Should I tell them about the first time you tried to use the vacuum and you accidentally sucked up your—"

"No, no!" Ron cut her off quickly, face coloring scarlet, his ears matching his hair.

That got their interest.

"Oh?" Draco brightened visibly. His lips quirked into their trademark smirk. "What's this I hear, Weaslebe?"

"Sounds dirty~" Pansy giggled.

Theo rolled his eyes. "That's cause your mind takes up permanent residence in the gutter, Parkinson."

"Come, come, Weasley, tell us—we're dying to know." Blaise flashed an evil grin at the quickly escalating situation.

Ron lost his flippant gusto quickly. "Nothing," he grumbled.

Draco's smirk widened. That's what I thought…

"Alright, alright." Harry finally took charge again before things got more out of hand—drawing the table's attention back to him. "Shall we continue?"

"Oh please." Pansy grinned. The group of three Slytherins exchanged conspiratorial looks before Harry began to narrate once again…

Xxxx -DxH- xxxX

"So, you take the waffle like this…place it in the toaster like this….and then you push this lever here. This dial controls the power. Got it?"

"Uh, right…And how do you know when it's done…?"

"Oh, don't worry." Harry smothered an evil grin. "You'll know."

Draco was still staring at the toaster like he feared it may spontaneously combust if he got too close to it. Which, from Harry's perspective, was all he needed to instantly make his mood better. Now to wait for the good part…

He smoothed his expression over innocently and walked to the other side of the kitchen, once again opening cupboards. "Did you see any coffee anywhere?"

"Hm?" Draco replied distractedly. His brow was furrowed in fearful concentration, eyes glued to the silver toaster. It appeared that he really wasn't taking any chances looking away from it.

"Ah, never mind then…" Harry's search eventually resulted in a half-opened container of instant coffee. While not ideal, it would suffice for now. He pulled a chipped Puddlmere United mug down from the next cupboard, hesitated, then reached up and pulled another mug down. It was emblazoned with the orange and black crest of the Chudley Cannons. His lips quirked. Evidently whoever had lived here before them had been Quidditch fans. Perhaps a bit disillusioned, if they were fans of the Chudley Cannons, but a Quidditch fan was a Quidditch fan. "Malfoy, coffee?"

Draco finally peeled his eyes away from the toaster long enough to glance in Harry's direction. "Fine. Wait—what kind of coffee is it?"

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes and slid the container of instant coffee behind his back on the counter. "Coffee is coffee, Malfoy. Do you want some or not."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but didn't argue. "Fine." He caught sight of the mugs on the counter and scoffed. "I am not drinking out of a Chudley Cannons mug. Bloody hell, the Holyhead Harpies are better than them."

Harry felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Young master Malfoy is a fan of the all-witch Holyhead Harpies team?"

"I didn't say I was a fan, but they're decent. Unlike that pathetic excuse of a team, the Cannons. Merlin's beard, I think the last time they won the league was in 1800!"

That one drew a laugh from Harry. "I think it was closer to 1900, but they are pretty bad." His smile lingered for a moment. "I didn't know you were that into Quidditch."

Draco's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't I be? Did you forget that I used to play at Hogwarts?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, no, I just always figured that you were only playing because your dad made you or because you were trying to out best me."

"You know Potter, contrary to popular belief, everything isn't always about you." Draco's voice had lost its teasing edge and was replaced with ice.

"Hey, that's not…" Harry flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's not what I meant…"

Draco sighed. "Who cares. It doesn't matter anymore. I suppose that's what everyone always thinks, anyways. I only ever do things either because my old man makes me, or because I'm doing it to spite Saint Potter."

Part of Harry wanted to refute the claim—to reassure Malfoy—but he wasn't exactly sure why.

The silence that stretched between them was finally broken by a "pop"—as the now-toasted waffles sprung up from the silver toaster. Draco started and looked around wildly. "What the bloody hell was that?!" He picked up the butter knife Harry had used to cut open the waffle package and was now waving it around wildly like it was a wand.

The mood was somewhat lost, so the scare didn't leave Harry with as much of a feeling of mischievous satisfaction at successfully pulling off the prank. "Waffles are done," he mumbled.

Xxxx -DxH- xxxX

After a round of coffee and a satisfying plate of peanut butter-smeared waffles, the sleep that had been eluding Harry finally caught up to him. There wasn't a whole lot for them to do in the flat anyways, so he figured he may as well use the opportunity to catch up on some sleep. He craned his neck towards the kitchen to catch sight of Draco leaned against the counter—reading what appeared to be a dated copy of The Daily Prophet. Whatever. As long as he wasn't getting into trouble.

A yawn was starting to fight its way out of his mouth, so he decided to take up residence on the couch for a well-deserved nap. They hadn't had time to discuss sleeping arrangements yet—and somehow how he doubted that Malfoy was going to graciously grant him the bed—so Harry figured that sleeping on the couch was probably a safe bet for now. Besides—if Malfoy started trying to burn the house down or something at least he'd hear it. There was a maroon afghan slung across the back of the couch that he pulled over top of himself, snuggling into the worn cloth couch. He managed to toss his glasses haphazardly onto the floor before his brain finally succumbed to sleepiness and the entire world faded away to blissful darkness.

Xxxx -DxH- xxxX

Harry awoke sometime later, feeling for the first time in a while like he had truly gotten a good rest. He had somehow managed to find the sweet spot in just sleeping long enough to rest well, without sleeping so long that he felt like a disoriented zombie when he woke up. What time is it?

"Approximately 12:30."

He started at the voice and lifted his head off the couch to find the source. Draco was sitting it the recliner a short distance from him, reading some kind of magazine that he must've found there in the living room.

Harry groaned and scrubbed at his face with the heels of his hands. "Don't do that, it's weird."

"What—reading your thoughts? Or staring at you when you're sleeping."

"You were watching me sleep? That's weirder." Harry stifled a yawn and stretched as he pushed himself to a seating position. "I was talking about the mind reading though."

"Oh." Draco folded the magazine closed and rested it on his lap. "Not like it's my fault. You think too much. I can't help but hear it."

"Uh huh…" Harry tried to decide what it was that he was supposed to do for the rest of the day until he could go back to sleep at night, but nothing came to him. He glanced around and sniffed. Frowned. "Do you smell something?"

"Hm?" Draco had turned his attention to a different magazine that he had picked off the coffee table next him. "I cracked open a window in there for some fresh air." He gestured vaguely towards the dining area.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I think something was on fire in the kitchen."

Harry's heart leapt into his chest.

"WHY THE BLOODY HELL WOULDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT FIRST, YOU PRAT?!" He made a mad dash for the kitchen.

Draco followed him lazily into the room, stopping and glancing at the small flame coming out of the sliver toaster. "It's barely on fire."

"MALFOY."

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "No worries, Potter. I got it."

He snapped his fingers.

They stared expectantly at the flaming toaster.

The flame didn't budge.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "No magic."

"…Bollocks."