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Monday morning, Harry woke slowly. For a brief moment he forgot where he was. Then he turned his head to see that Draco was still sleeping peacefully. How could he possibly have forgotten sharing a bed with a man who moved around in his sleep so much? At one point, Harry had even woken to find himself being spooned.
He took a few minutes to observe his . . . Harry wasn't sure how to refer to him. Formal rival? Witness? Possible friend? Possible more than friend?
Harry sighed. His feelings were too confused. How could he forget his volatile past with Draco and move toward something friendly, or even romantic? The odd thing was, Harry nearly had forgotten about all the cruel things they had done to one another. Though Draco occasionally poked fun at Harry or gave him a bit of a hard time while they were on the run, generally his behavior had been exemplary.
Perhaps Draco was as eager to move past their past as Harry was.
Slowly getting out of bed, Harry quickly and silently dressed. He gave a last look at Draco to make sure he was still sleeping before sneaking out the door. He left the hotel and walked to an out of the way spot near the station and disapparated.
Harry appeared in Diagon Alley near the Leaky Cauldron. He glanced around nervously, then remembered he was wearing a Glamour. First, he walked to Rosa Lee Teabag where he purchased a variety of mini pastries, two cones with jam and cream, and two large teas. Then he stopped by a stall selling newspapers to pick up a copy of the day's Prophet.
By the time he got back to the hotel room, Draco was up and in the loo. Harry spread out the food on the desk and was finished just as Draco came out.
"Oh." Draco stopped short. "You're here."
"I picked up breakfast rather than go downstairs to the restaurant. Is that all right?"
Draco glanced at the food, frowning slightly, then nodded.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You don't seemed pleased."
Yawning first, Draco answered. "No, this is fine. I just thought . . ."
Harry cocked his head waiting for the rest.
"I thought perhaps you'd grown tired of having to care for me like a child."
"You thought I'd left?" Harry didn't know whether to feel sorry for Draco or be insulted. "Do you really think I would simply leave you, injured and without protection from a murderer?"
Looking a bit sheepish, Draco picked at his fingernails. "Anybody else would have. Not that I would blame them."
"I'm not anybody else."
Draco sighed. "That, I know."
"Come and eat something. And I got a paper. If reading doesn't give you a headache."
Draco pulled the desk chair closer to the desk, while Harry grabbed his tea and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Is this today's Prophet?" Draco asked. He helped himself to a scone, already split and filled with jam and cream. "Where did you go?"
"I popped into Diagon Alley. Don't worry, no one recognized me."
"It was still taking a risk, wasn't it?"
Harry shrugged. "It was worth the homemade strawberry jam." Harry tried to brush off the fact that he'd gone very far out of his way to do something nice for Draco.
They ate in comfortable silence for a time before Draco gasped.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
"My mother's been taken into custody."
"Arrested?" Harry jumped up, peering over Draco's shoulder to look at the paper. He read the article about Narcissa. It was short without much detail. Harry wondered if it was meant to draw Draco out in the open.
"I need to go to her."
Apparently, it worked.
"That may be exactly what they're aiming for." Harry re-read the beginning of the article. "It says she's in custody, not that she's been arrested. That could mean protective custody."
"Or it could mean arrested."
Harry rolled his eyes. "True. But you can't barge into the Ministry demanding to see her. If the Auror who's killing Death Eaters sees you, they could make an attempt on your life."
Draco turned to Harry. "When did I say I was going to barge in and demand anything?"
When Harry turned to look back at him, Draco face was mere inches from his. He could practically feel Draco's breath on his lips. For a second, Harry forgot what he was going to say.
"Uh . . ."
Snorting, Draco stood and walked to look out the window.
Harry mentally berated himself. "Draco, I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn. I know you're concerned for your mother. You actually haven't been demanding at all."
Draco turned around. "I'm glad you've noticed. But regarding this matter, I must insist that you find out what happened to her. If it's me they want, I'll gladly trade myself for her."
"I don't want you to do that. Er, I mean, we can't give in to blackmail. The Ministry doesn't operate that way, anyway." Harry paused. "Besides, you're not on the list of fugitive Death Eaters. I believe the Ministry considers you rehabilitated."
"And what about you?" Draco crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.
Harry nodded. "You've certainly changed. If I considered you any type of threat, I wouldn't be here."
"Then what do we do?"
Sitting down at the desk, Harry thought. Ron would know what's going on with Narcissa. But the Ministry would be monitoring Ron's messages. Harry would have to send something benignly worded that had a hidden message. Perhaps sending it to Hermione instead would be better. Harry took the pad of paper from the desk. Recalling a place he went a couple of times with Ron, he began composing a message.
Dearest Hermione, It was wonderful to see you on Tuesday. So happy for the recommendation of Sal's Cafe for breakfast. The griddles cakes were to the nines. We should meet again sometime very, very soon. Cheers, H. Jameson
Harry admired his cleverness and handed it to Draco for approval.
"Um, Potter, this doesn't even mention anything about my mother."
"I know. I can't simply message Ron without tipping someone off. Hermione will figure out that I want to meet at Sal's Cafe at nine on Tuesday."
"She will?"
"Brightest witch of our age, remember?" Harry snickered.
"Or something to that effect," Draco grumbled. "How are you going to get the message to her?"
"I'll have to go to a satellite owlry."
"A what?"
"There are several owlries hidden in Muggle post offices. You have to choose the correct service to deliver the message. And you have to pay three Sickles. It gets re-written on parchment and delivered by owl. There's one just down the road."
"I've never heard of that."
"Why would you? You've barely been out in the Muggle world. But it's especially useful for Muggleborns who have relatives that want to keep in touch. I believe Hermione's parents have used the service."
"Shall I come with you?"
"No. Enjoy your breakfast. This post office is in the back of an odds and ends shop. It's very small. I think it would be better if I went alone." Harry smiled. "By the way, I noticed you're not using the walking stick."
"Yes. My leg feels fully healed. I wish I could say the same for my head. Reading that paper gave me a slight headache."
"Take some more paracetamol, then lie down while I'm gone. Is there anything I can get for you while I'm out?"
Harry glanced at Draco, then did a double take. He couldn't quite read the expression on the man's face. Draco lips was curled in a slight grin. But his eyes were soft and warm, and almost . . . adoring. Harry stared. Draco had never looked so handsome.
"Thank you, no," Draco finally said. "You've done more than enough already."
hdhdhd
Once he got to the post office, Harry queued along with several others. Though he had already checked twice, he put his hand in his pocket to feel for the Sickles. In his other hand, he held the letter for Hermione. There was a faint buzzing in the tiny room and Harry thought it must have been protected by a Muffliato Charm.
The man in front of him moved up to the counter and put three coins on the counter. He must have been either a wizard or Muggle family of a wizard asking for owl delivery, Harry assumed.
When it was Harry's turn, he stepped up and smiled.
"Hello. I'd like to send this letter via o.w.l."
"In the UK or out?"
"In."
"Three Sickles, please."
Harry handed them, along with the letter, over. "Will this go out today?"
"Yup. Guaranteed to go out by noon."
"Excellent." That would be plenty of time for Hermione to get the message, tell Ron and plan to be at Sal's Cafe at 9 o'clock the following morning.
It also left plenty of time for Harry and Draco to spend the day together.
As Harry walked back to the hotel, he wondered what he and Draco were going to do the whole day. He didn't even have enough Muggle money to take Draco back to the restaurant in the hotel. Perhaps they could risk going to Hogsmeade as long as they were Glamoured.
The hotel room was empty when Harry arrived. Panicking at first, he then heard the sound of running water. Draco was in the shower. Naked.
Of course he was naked. Harry shook his head. Nobody took a shower with their clothes on. Except Harry wasn't picturing Draco nude or wearing clothes while water cascaded over his body. He was picturing him in those green silk pants he had the fortune of seeing twice. Somehow, the thought of clingy, wet silk hugging the outline of Draco's substantial cock was even more erotic than thinking of Draco nude.
Harry felt his cock begin to rise in the confines of his trousers. He wanted so badly to wank.
"Fuck."
Maybe a quick one.
The water shut off.
"Fuck."
Harry adjusted himself and tried to think of the most un-erotic, mood-killing thing he could imagine. Uncle Vernon. For a moment, he wondered what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were doing wherever they were. Dudley had reached out to Harry to try and make amends. But his aunt and uncle wanted no part in Harry's life.
Draco came out of the loo with damp, tousled hair but fully dressed.
"Success?" he asked.
But all Harry heard was sex. "What?" He gaped.
"Success sending out the message?"
"Oh. Oh, yeah." Harry rolled his eyes at himself.
"Did you happen to spot a pawn shop in your travels?"
"No. But then again I wasn't looking for one. You weren't serious about hocking your mother's jewelry."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why else did you think I brought it?" He continued when Harry didn't respond. "We need Muggle money. You said it yourself."
"The hotel room is paid through Wednesday morning," Harry told him. "I can probably get money from Ron."
"If they figure out your message."
"They will."
"Well, I'm going stir-crazy in this room. I need to go out for some fresh air," Draco said. He began to walk toward the door, then turned. "You coming?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
When they got down to the lobby, Draco went to the counter where a woman with purple hair stood ready to greet guests, while Harry observed the people in the lobby.
"Can I help you sir?"
Draco leaned gracefully against the counter. "I was wondering if you knew of a local pawn shop."
The woman looked up and pursed her lips, presumably in thought.
"I believe there's one about half a kilometer down on Euston."
"And if I were interested in splurging on a fine meal?"
"Our restaurant here is excellent," she answered.
"Yes, we dined here last night. But I'm looking for something more . . . upscale."
"Oh. Well, Office Knook is quite nice."
Draco frowned. "An office?"
"No, no." The young woman giggled. "I know, it's an odd name for a place to eat. But I hear they have the best ribeye around."
"Ah, and where can I find this place?"
"Office Knook is also on Euston."
Draco held out his hand. "Thank you so much for your assistance."
When she went to shake his hand, Draco instead lightly kissed the back of it. He winked when they made eye contact once again.
"You know, I've never favoured gingers, but you're quite agreeable," she said.
"What? Oh buggar," Draco muttered. He nodded and quickly made his way toward Harry.
"Get what you needed?" Harry asked.
"Why didn't you remind me that I was wearing that ridiculous Glamour? I just made a complete arse of myself."
Harry glanced at the young woman with the purple hair. She was watching them. "She seemed taken with you. You were very charming."
"I was–" Draco didn't finish his sentence, so Harry had no idea what he was going to say. But Draco squinted as though suspicious. Perhaps Draco didn't believe him. Or perhaps he did.
Either way, Harry wished he could take back the compliment. He was becoming uncomfortable under Draco's scrutiny.
"We need to find a road called Euston," Draco announced. "There's a pawn shop about half a kilometer away."
"All right." Harry was glad for the distraction.
They left the hotel and found the correct road, but weren't sure which direction to go. After walking a while and not finding the shop, the pair turned around and walked the other direction. Soon enough, they came upon an old stone and brick storefront advertising cash for jewelry.
Several other customers were in the shop, some looking in a display case, others sitting at tables with jewelry laid out in front of them. It was difficult to tell who was buying and who was selling.
Draco approached the counter.
"Good afternoon," a man greeted him.
"Good afternoon. I'm interested in selling some gold pieces."
"Very good, sir. I'll find someone who's free to help you."
Harry tugged on Draco's sleeve. "Are you certain you wan't to do this?"
Draco nodded.
A different man arrived and directed them to a table on the far side of the small shop. Draco and Harry sat across from him.
"I'm Wendell. I understand you're interested in selling some gold jewelry. Are you looking for a loan?"
"Cash," Draco said, then glanced at Harry for confirmation. He took out two necklaces and a bangle bracelet.
Wendell picked up one of the necklaces and held his loupe up to his eye. "What can you tell me about these pieces?"
"They belong to my mother. I believe all three have been passed down at least two generations. The stone in the one you're looking at now is an emerald."
"Good quality, too," the man said. "Very nice condition. Do you know the country of origin?"
"Sorry, no."
They all remained silent while Wendell inspected the lot.
"I can give you . . . six hundred quid for all three pieces."
"Is that a lot?" Draco asked.
Harry nudged him under the table, then addressed the man. "Can you give us a moment?"
Wendell nodded, leaving Harry and Draco to discuss the matter.
"You can't ask him if he's giving you a fair price. He's not going to be honest," Harry said.
"All right then. Do you think it's a fair price? I have no idea what six hundred quid means."
"Well, there are roughly five quid to a galleon. So, about a hundred twenty galleons," Harry said, doing the quick math.
"And how much is a night in the hotel?"
Harry blushed. "Normally about 90 quid. But I, sort of, used the Confudus Charm so we got a better rate. I paid 70 for the first three nights."
"So, six hundred would cover quite a few more nights should we need them."
"Yeah. But I still don't think you should sell your mother's jewelry."
"Harry, the things my mother had laid out on her chest of drawers were everyday trinkets. The truly valuable things are still safely tucked away in the safe, I'm certain."
"Oh." Draco continued talking but all Harry could think about was that Draco had called him Harry. Up until then, he'd referred to him as Potter.
"All right?" Draco asked.
"Huh?"
"I'm going to take the offer."
"Uh, right. Good. Okay. What about the diamond earrings?"
"Let's see how long this money will last. We can always come back," Draco said. He raised his hand to catch Wendell's attention.
Before leaving the shop, Draco handed Harry half the money.
"Draco, that's yours."
"Consider it payback for helping me."
"I'm not helping you for the money. Besides, it's my job."
"Fine. Then a partnership. In case you need to buy something we need and we're not together. I insist you take it."
Reluctantly, Harry pocketed the paper bills.
Looking around, Draco asked, "What shall we do now?"
"You should probably rest," suggested Harry.
Draco sighed. "You're like my mother," he muttered. "I'll rest for now. But I want to go somewhere appropriate for supper."
"Appropriate?" Harry snickered. "You mean posh. The restaurant at the hotel isn't good enough for you?"
"The woman at the counter told me there's a place to get the best ribeye, and it's on this road. Don't I deserve the best?"
Harry smiled. He did indeed believe Draco deserved the best. He just couldn't work out when he came to that conclusion. He'd always thought Draco was a spoiled prat who didn't deserve any of the fine things to which he was accustom.
"All right. Rest for a few hours and we can go get you the best ribeye."
Draco appeared smugly satisfied as they walked back to the hotel. But Harry noticed that he fell asleep within minutes of lying down. Harry decided to take the time to write down the facts in the case as he remembered them. He wanted to corroborate with Ron, so he could begin to establish an alibi, even though the Prophet claimed he didn't have any.
hdhdhd
Harry hated to admit it, but it was most likely the best meal he had ever eaten. Well, perhaps that was an overstatement. The best meal was the first time he had eaten at Hogwarts with brand new friends. He ate as much as he wanted of whatever he wanted. The meal at Office Knook was the finest meal he had ever eaten.
"How was yours?" Harry asked.
"Delightful. Surprisingly." Draco dabbed at the corners of his mouth. "Pudding? I saw something chocolate and decadent go by as we were eating."
"I don't know if I could eat much more."
Draco lifted a finger as he caught the server's eye. The man immediately responded, bowing slightly.
"Yes sir?"
"I saw some sort of chocolate pudding."
"Ah, the smoked chocolate mousse with white chocolate sorbet and a caramel nut crunch. Excellent choice."
"Hm. What else do you have?" Draco asked.
"Blackcurrant cheesecake, lemon meringue pie, ice cream, or a cheese platter if you're looking for a savory finish to your meal."
"One slice of lemon meringue pie to split, please."
"I thought you wanted the chocolate one," Harry said after the server left.
"I saw your nose wrinkle."
"What?"
"You didn't like the sound of that one, but you wouldn't say anything. So I ordered the one that made your eyes light up."
Harry blushed. "My eyes did not light up. I told you I was full."
Smirking, Draco said, "My mistake then."
The pie was equally scrumptious as the rest of the meal, though Harry could only eat a few bites. Secretly, he was glad for the choice Draco made.
The air was cooling off as they strolled leisurely toward the hotel.
"When was the last time you were in the station?" Draco asked.
Shrugging a shoulder, Harry replied, "Probably Sixth Year. I've been back to Hogwarts, but not on the train."
"I wonder if it looks the same."
Harry looked at Draco. The expression he wore was pensive and Harry thought perhaps Draco was feeling nostalgic.
"We're right here. We could take a look."
"Oh, I don't know."
Harry smirked. Draco wasn't pulling off nonchalance well. "Let's go."
He tugged at Draco's elbow, leading him into the station. There were small changes here and there, but nothing major. They walked down the line until they reached the familiar pillar to platform Nine and Three Quarters. It was then that Harry realized he hadn't let go of Draco's arm. He was about to apologize when it also occurred to him that Draco hadn't complained.
"Shall we?" Harry asked.
But Draco hesitated.
"What's wrong?"
Draco's brow furrowed. He took half a step back, extricating himself from Harry's grip. "I have this irrational fear that I won't be able to get through."
"Of course you will. The Hogwarts Express won't be running, but I don't see why we can't get through."
"But what if I don't?" Draco turned to him. "What if I'm not welcome anymore? I want to go back to the hotel."
There wasn't anything Harry could say to assuage Draco's fears. He didn't know for a fact that Draco could get through. But he also didn't think anyone would waste their time spelling it to keep Draco out. Not when he'd been rehabilitated.
"All right. You've been out and about enough today anyway."
Luckily, the walk was only a few minutes. Harry turned on the telly when they got back to the room to pass the time. The summer Olympic Games were airing. He had been allowed to watch from time to time growing up, as Uncle Vernon thought they should cheer for Britain as a family. Harry thought perhaps Uncle Vernon thought he could magically make the British athletes win, though Vernon never actually asked.
Draco sat, mouth agape, as he watched men in what appeared to be wearing footed pyjamas tumbling and jumping to impossible heights.
"How are they doing that?" he asked. "Is this somehow a wizarding program on a Muggle device?"
Laughing, Harry said, "No. They are Muggle athletes. Most of them have been training their whole lives to be able to do that."
"Why?"
"To be Olympic champions."
"Is that a Muggle job?"
"Actually, it isn't. In fact, most Olympians spend great amounts of money to train. It's all for the glory and privilege. Very few Muggles ever get to compete, much less win a medal."
Draco nodded. "Like the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
"I suppose, somewhat."
They watched for a while until Draco's lids became heavy and Harry suggested they go to sleep. With any luck, they would be meeting with Ron and Hermione in the morning.
By the time Harry got out of the loo after getting ready for bed, Draco was tucked away under the covers. Harry removed his shirt and trousers, and slipped under the sheet.
"Nox."
Even without the light on, the room wasn't completely dark. Ambient light from the window curtains illuminated the room enough for Harry to see Draco's face. He was still awake.
"Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked.
"Not bad. Just a bit fatigued."
Neither of them said anything for a while, and Harry assumed Draco had fallen asleep. But then he spoke quietly.
"Thank you."
"For supper? You paid for that." Harry chuckled.
"Not for supper. I mean for all of it."
"I should be thanking you as well."
Draco rolled to his side in order to face Harry. Harry mirrored his actions.
"You know what I mean," Draco said.
"I'm serious. You're helping me too. You're my alibi for . . ."
"My father's murder. It's all right, you can say it. I'm not going to break down this time."
Harry watched Draco's face in the darkened room. Under different circumstances, Harry could imagine the two of them whispering sweet nothings rather than talking of alibis and murder.
"I still want to thank you," Draco said. "Mainly for pretending to forget that I'm a Death Eater."
"I'm not pretending. You were never truly a Death Eater. Not in your heart."
"No, not in my heart," Draco said softly.
Before Harry could stop himself, he leaned forward and kissed Draco. It wasn't particularly long or passionate, but it couldn't be written off as accidental or platonic. Pulling back, he saw that Draco appeared somewhat dazed. Harry was certain his own expression matched.
"We should go to sleep. Uh, goodnight." Harry said quickly and turned over to his other side.
He braced himself, thinking Draco was going to ask him what the fuck that was about. Or perhaps he would hit Harry. Or, Harry dared to imagine, would Draco lean closer and kiss Harry back?
After ten or fifteen minutes, he realized none of those things were going to happen. Despite his mind racing with thoughts of regret, embarrassment and shame, Harry eventually fell sleep that night.
Not surprisingly, his dreams were about his involuntary bed partner.