Harry didn't know what to make of any of it. After sitting next to Malfoy on the twin bed for far longer than was necessary, he had gotten up and gone back to the shower for the second time that day, washing away the scent of Malfoy's cologne and anything else that still lingered on his body. That was the second time in a week that he'd hooked up with Malfoy—once initiated by Harry, and once by Malfoy—and both times he hadn't had a single thing to drink.
It was unsettling, and worse, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that it would never happen again.
He didn't know what Malfoy was going to do with the rest of the day, and he didn't ask. After all the unpleasantness with George, Harry wondered if maybe Malfoy would decide to go home and leave Harry to the pleasant holiday he'd been envisioning for weeks. But he had to concede that it was unlikely. It sounded as though Malfoy didn't have a home, at least not with his family, and had decided to stay put at the Weasleys, for better or for worse.
Feeling rather lost, Harry went down to the kitchen, where he found Charlie and Mrs. Weasley preparing dinner together.
"Hi," he said, smiling at Charlie. "Room for one more?"
"Yes, please stay," Charlie said imploringly. He pulled a face at Harry from behind Mrs. Weasley's back. "Mum and I were just, er, catching up."
"I was just asking Charlie when he's going to settle down with a nice girl, maybe a little closer to home. The rest of the family's all settled, except you, Harry, dear." Mrs. Weasley bent to pull a cookie sheet out of the oven, and Charlie grimaced at Harry.
"Not everyone wants to settle down, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said carefully. "Not everyone's like Ron and Hermione and the rest." Charlie cast a grateful look Harry's way, and Harry felt a mixture of affection and guilt flutter in his stomach.
"So I've heard." Mrs. Weasley straightened up and looked disapprovingly at them both. "I'm going to go out and see what your father's doing in the garage. Watch the cookies for me, Charlie?"
"Yes, Mum," Charlie said dutifully. He let out an exhausted sigh the moment the kitchen door has closed. "And she wonders why I don't come home more often."
He came up behind Harry and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt that pinch of guilt or nerves—or was it something else?—in his stomach again. He'd never felt uncomfortable around Charlie before. In the past, everything had been so easy, casual, and uncomplicated between them. He liked Charlie. He always had. It was just this whole thing with Malfoy that was ruining everything.
He wet his lips and tried to focus on what Charlie had just said. "I dunno, Charlie, maybe if you told her—"
Charlie smiled wryly. "Told her that it's exhausting being here, or told her that I'm not about to settle down with a nice girl?" He put his hands on Harry's hips and spun him around so they were facing each other. Harry let out a surprised laugh and squeezed Charlie's arm.
"Either. Both," he offered. He leaned back against the counter and found himself relaxing into the routine of the conversation. They'd had it so many times before. "She wouldn't mind, you know. She just—"
"I know she wouldn't mind. I just don't want the whole family up in my business." Charlie looked sternly at Harry. "Besides, you're one to talk. When are you going to tell Ron and Hermione anything about your life?"
You don't know the half of it, Harry thought. "Soon," he said. Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Okay, not soon. Never?" Charlie laughed, and Harry searched around for a change of subject. "So, er, Quidditch was nice this morning."
Charlie gave Harry a knowing look at the subject change, and Harry grinned sheepishly at him. "Yeah, it was a good game," Charlie replied. "Shame what George said afterwards, though. I'd almost thought we'd moved past all that unpleasantness with Malfoy."
"Me too," said Harry, and it was true. Things had been different while they'd been playing Quidditch. "When we were flying, I'd almost forgotten what a prat he is."
"Was Malfoy all right?" Charlie asked. "Mum would be livid if she knew George was giving him a hard time." Harry flushed. He realized that he didn't know anything about how Malfoy was faring. Harry had pounced on him like some kind of sex maniac the moment he got out of the shower.
"I, er—" He was about to offer some sort of weak excuse for not knowing a single thing about Malfoy's wellbeing, when the kitchen door opened and Malfoy himself entered.
Charlie took a smooth step back from Harry, who promptly turned red and knocked a cookie cutter off the kitchen counter.
"Oh, sorry," Malfoy said, looking quickly between the two of them. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."
He didn't sound particularly sorry, Harry thought as he straightened up, cookie cutter in hand, though he did look altogether too curious for his own good. He'd changed out of The Robe and was wearing an impeccable pair of trousers and a soft blue sweater. Not a hair was out of place. Nobody would know he'd spent the morning playing Quidditch and—well, Harry didn't need to think about the other things Malfoy had done that day.
"I was just leaving," Harry said quickly. "Good, er, good talk, Charlie." He stepped quickly around both men and left the room, face aflame.
Try as he might, for the rest of the day he found himself unable to completely avoid Malfoy. He'd been stupid with Charlie in the kitchen, he told himself, embarrassed that Malfoy had seen them embracing one another, but not entirely sure why. He knew from experience that Malfoy was discreet and probably wouldn't tell a soul—not that there was anything to tell—and yet it bothered him that Malfoy might think that Harry and Charlie were somehow together, which they weren't.
Not that it was any of Malfoy's business either way.
He did spend a pleasant couple hours playing chess with Ron, Hermione, and Percy, but was left feeling rather bereft and lonely when they made excuses and disappeared off to their respective bedrooms before dinner.
Once again, Harry was alone, and wasn't sure what to do with himself. He couldn't go upstairs to the bedroom; Malfoy might be there, and he couldn't go in the kitchen or the garage, because Charlie might be there, and for reasons Harry couldn't quite pin down, he didn't really want to see him, either. Then he heard the sounds of Teddy laughing in the living room. A feeling of relief and warmth spreading through his chest, he went in to see what his godson was doing.
The moment he had, he wished he hadn't. Malfoy was in there too (of course he was), lying on the rug between Teddy and Victoire, a book open on the floor between them. Harry had never seen him look quite so...relaxed...except perhaps, when Malfoy was sleeping, or playing Quidditch, or when Harry was doing very specific things to him in the bedroom (all of which he'd seen already that day, he realized with a jolt).
But in any case, he'd certainly never seen Malfoy sprawled comfortably on the floor like this, seemingly without a care for his carefully pressed trousers or Teddy's grubby left hand, which was resting on his arm. Victoire leaned against him on his other side, her white-blonde head on his shoulder. Teddy had changed his hair to a shade of blonde somewhere between Malfoy's and Victoire's, and laying there together, they almost looked like members of a family. Which they were, Harry reminded himself, at least for the most part.
The peacefulness of the scene didn't last long once Harry entered. At the sight of him, Malfoy scrambled to sit upright, smoothing out his shirt and hair. "Potter," he scowled. "Can we help you?"
"Sorry," Harry said, as something like a laugh threatened to bubble up in his throat. "I'll go. Enjoy your, er, storytime."
Malfoy's scowl deepend, but Teddy's face brightened. "It's okay, Harry!" he shouted. Malfoy wrinkled his nose at the boisterousness, and Harry, again, stifled a laugh. "You can stay! Draco's reading to us. Draco, do the dragon—"
"No," Malfoy said quickly, and Harry looked at him curiously.
"-voice for Harry, Draco!" Teddy finished. "You've got to, he'll love it. Harry loves dragons. Draco, did you know he beat one when he was in school? In the tournament!" Harry grinned at Teddy, whose hair was rapidly becoming black and curly.
"Yes, I'd heard about Potter's dragon," Malfoy said drily. "And no, Teddy, I'm not doing the, ah, voice now."
"No, please, Malfoy," Harry said pleasantly. "I want to hear it. Is it very good, Teddy? Victoire?"
"It's the best," Victoire said enthusiastically, and Teddy nodded in agreement.
Malfoy gave Harry a long suffering look, his cheeks an even deeper pink. Then,without warning, he turned to Teddy and let out a low, throaty growl that startled Harry quite as much as the children.
"Watch out, boys and girls!" Malfoy growled menacingly. "Or I will eat you up !"
Victoire and Teddy shrieked with laughter while Harry stared at them, opened-mouthed. Stiff, rude, buttoned-up Malfoy was not only sitting on the floor with children, he was also pretending to be a dragon for them. It was the sort of thing that, well, Charlie would do...but somehow it was infinitely more delightful when it was Malfoy. Harry didn't really understand it. Maybe it was the rather endearing way Malfoy's cheeks turned pink when he was embarrassed...but no, that couldn't be it either. Harry swallowed. Not entirely, at least.
"Very good, Malfoy," he said when he'd finally found his voice. "A little on the nose though. Draco the dragon?" Malfoy's name- Draco- rolled easily off his tongue. Harry wondered if he'd ever said it before, and what it would be like to say it again.
Malfoy flushed under Harry's gaze. "Yes, well. Only for the children," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Harry smiled back at him, feeling a sudden urge to lounge on the floor with the three of them and listen to the rest of the book.
"I'm not a child ," Teddy said importantly, tugging the book away from Malfoy.
"Me either," said Victoire.
"No, you're not." agreed Malfoy, looking away from Harry at last. He lowered his voice to the same deep growl and chomped his teeth at them. "Because you're dragons !"
The children shrieked with laughter, and Harry turned away to leave them to it, a smile spreading across his face.
"We're never speaking of this again, Potter!" Malfoy called after him as the living room door swung shut. And this time, Harry did laugh.