They are already eating when Harry walks into the room. Draco and Narcissa look up from their dinner in surprise. Harry's wearing a more formal shirt along with a pair of trousers that are a step above his usual ratty jeans. He ducks his head from the doorway, scratching the back of his neck. When he looks up at Narcissa, he's hopeful, but not overly so.
She clears her throat softly, looking to Draco. The other man hasn't moved since Harry arrived.
"Oh, uh, would you like to join us, Harry?" Draco asks, still in a bit of shock.
"If-if it's all right with both of you," he manages after a moment, "I would like to join you for dinner." Draco nods and gestures at a chair across from Narcissa.
Once Malve is busy serving Harry, Draco and Narcissa pick up their idle chatter again.
"Are you sure that you need to work on that case, Draco?" she pauses to wipe away a drop of sauce. "I realize that working under Minister Shacklebolt means a lot to you, but you don't have to take every case he gives you, surely?"
Draco rolls his eyes. "No, mother. I do, however, have to work on all the cases which involve my prior cases. This one links up to that niffler smuggling ring a few months back. You remember the one?" He's wrapping noodles around his fork expertly; not a drop of sauce hits his plate.
Harry eats in silence as the two banter. Their conversation is easy, familiar. He smiles when Narcissa puts particular emphasis on the empty, meaningless habits of Draco's love life, and nearly chokes on a piece of chicken when Draco's retort has something to do with the bloke she shagged in the kitchen a few days ago.
Her laughter rings out across the room. Harry's ears burn and he concentrates very hard on spearing the last piece of chicken sluicing its way across his plate. Narcissa notices this and nods her head toward him. Draco sighs and sets his glass down.
"Harry, do you need anything?" The question is so bland that even Harry can feel how forced it is.
The piece of chicken continues to be stubborn as Harry blushes a deep shade of magenta. "What? Oh, no. I'm okay, thanks." He finally gets it on the end of his fork and shoves it in his mouth. When the idea hits him, he's mid-chew and the words are a tangled mess.
"Wha-bo-Her-n-Rn-cn-vizz?" Harry looks up to Draco with wide eyes, but feels tears start to come when he slaps the table and guffaws.
"I've no idea what you just said, Potter. Do finish chewing before you try again." He wipes the mirth from his eyes and waits out the rumbles of hilarity until Harry is up to speaking.
"I was wondering if Hermione and Ron might be able to come for a visit?" His thumb is tapping against his thigh under the table. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. As Draco opens his mouth, Harry squeezes his thigh to keep it from jerking out of the chair.
"If they want to, I don't suppose why not." He shrugs.
Harry smiles then; it's a big, dopey smile, but it's genuine and he hasn't felt the need for one in a while. Narcissa looks between the two boys before responding with a quiet smile of her own.
The nerves are rattling through him like an electric storm. Each time he reaches the end of the room, he spins and begins the trek anew. His fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt; he catches himself only to start again.
"Would you chill the fuck out?" This is from Draco. This is not the first time he's said it.
Harry's been waiting nearly two weeks for Draco to arrange this visit and now that it's finally time he has no idea what to do. At first, he thinks about stealing some whiskey from the open bottle near Draco's elbow. That thought is quickly discarded as he'd sworn it off a month ago, and now he's really trying to stick to that conviction. He's refusing any sort of calming draughts as well. After his first breakdown with Narcissa, he understands what happened with Ginny and doesn't want to tempt fate.
The Floo comes to life and he runs forward. He shoves his fingers through the tangles in his hair then straightens his jumper. All at once, Hermione is there with little Rose and she's smiling—smiling at him—and he can't help it. He rushes toward them and they are enveloped in a hug when Ron stumbles through, nearly knocking them all to the ground.
"Ronaaaaaald!" Hermione chastises him.
Ron's ears turn a bit red, but he grins and cuffs Harry on the shoulder.
"Can I hold her?" Harry whispers to Hermione as he steps back.
"Sit down." She nods, pointing to the couch.
Harry moves quickly, almost too quickly. He flops down and has to rearrange the jumper that's ridden up his back before reaching up for the baby that's lowering toward him. In his arms, Rose laughs and giggles and makes strange words that have no meaning, but Harry talks to her as if they're having an everyday conversation. He practically ignores Hermione and Ron for the half hour he's holding the oldest Granger-Weasley child, but when they mention Hugo, he looks up to Ron. His best friend is beaming with pride.
"He's such a chubby little sprog. You should see him, Harry. Mum and dad are in love. They've got him now." He looks bashful as he continues, "We figured it'd be less overwhelming with just one of them at first." Harry nods, grateful they are there at all. "Hermione, I think she's snared her first victim, this one has," Ron chuckles as Harry rubs noses with Rose.
Narcissa laughs from across the room. Ron and Hermione jump.
"I won't bite, you know," she chides them, her trademark smirk in place.
Ron leans over and whispers, "No wonder where ferret got it from!"
Harry laughs and he's too overcome with emotion to hold everything in. He sees Draco come back into the room and looks up, tears in his eyes. He whispers, "thank you," before placing a kiss on Rose's forehead.
Not long after, Ron and Hermione return through the Floo to pick up Hugo and head home. Harry wipes his eyes, but can't get the smile to fade. He nods once to Narcissa as he leaves the room, then retreats upstairs.