Harry's eyes open to something dreadful: Narcissa is sitting on the couch nearest them. He lifts his head to look at her before she realizes he's awake. The movement gets her attention and she smiles. A finger lifts to her lips as she purposely looks to Draco. Harry has the grace to blush.
She holds out a small vial. Harry grips it with his free hand and sees the swirling liquid resembles Sober Up. She walks out of the room, leaving Harry to his own demons. He attempts to keep the thumb tapping to a minimum, but as thoughts come whirling back to the night prior, he has to stop himself several times.
Harry lays in agony for another half hour. Each time Harry watches Draco's slow intake and release of breath, he prepares for the man to jump up, stumble away, and curse him for allowing his body to taint Draco with Harry's personal brand of crazy.
When Draco does stir, it's slow. He stretches his legs, fingers digging into Harry's hip, and then he stills. Everything about him stops. He seems to be figuring out where he is, but he hasn't looked up to see who he's with yet.
"Fuck, Potter," he croaks. "How the hell did we end up sleeping on the floor?"
Harry's earlier blush returns. He can't stammer out an answer that's intelligible, so he holds out the vial. Draco takes it, downs the contents, then hands it back. His head falls back onto Harry's waist. Harry doesn't know what to do, so he lays there, afraid to breathe or move, or think too hard in case Draco decides to hex him.
The blond tilts his head up, looks once at the overwhelming fear in Harry's eyes, and snorts. He shoves off Harry's body, hears the grunt Harry makes as he does so, and says, "Sorry."
Harry immediately curls up into a Potter-sized ball and waits for the inevitable Draco-sized explosion. It doesn't come. Instead, he sits against the couch where Narcissa perched earlier and looks across at Harry.
"How did you manage to get me home last night?"
"Lightening charm," he mumbles.
Draco nods. "All right then. Let's go get showers and meet mother for breakfast."
Harry is flabbergasted. Draco stands slowly and stares down at him, waiting until he gets up to follow. Draco merely saunters off to his own room while Harry walks crookedly and slowly across the hall.
After quick showers, the boys meet back up downstairs before heading out to the patio where Narcissa waits. She looks up from her newspaper with a smirk as they emerge from the Manor.
"Did you have fun last night, boys?"
"Lay off it, mother," Draco scowls. "You know you gave me the weak potion this morning."
She gives him a wicked grin then lifts the paper to read again, gesturing absently to the fruit, bacon, and fry-up laid out on the table. Harry tucks in hungrily, hoping to avoid any lengthy conversation about the previous evening—or that morning. He just wasn't that lucky.
The paper drops again. She takes her time folding it just right. Looking from one to the other she asks, "Where did you go last night?"
"Hog's Head," is Draco's reply.
"Ahh, how is dear Aberforth these days?"
"The usual," Draco says around a mouth full of eggs. Narcissa frowns.
Harry watches the verbal match over his fork.
"Harry, dear. Did you have a good time?"
Harry looks up at her and waits a moment; waits for the push. Nothing. He nods. Draco's face is stone as he sits across the table. I won't tell your secrets. They aren't mine to tell, Harry thinks. Draco looks relieved when Harry says nothing more, as if some sort of truce has been reached.
Narcissa seems to understand the game being played here and continues with her light chatter until they have finished breakfast, excusing herself for the afternoon. Draco and Harry sit in companionable silence until their plates are cleared and an owl calls Draco's attention to another matter.