A/N: Finally, some actual stuff happens in this chapter (mad grin). Again, thanks for the reviews and the love.
I'm, like, sick at the moment – stupid winter – and I thought, oh, right, Draco should go back and try to find Harry. And so he did. Only, he's lovesick.
If you can't understand what Draco is saying, I know the feeling. Once, my sister had a blocked nose, and she kept saying things about "eatid Ciddabod por ludch" and "goig to the shobs to bick up a cardigad".
.-xXXx-.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid Muggles. Stupid Muggle transport. Stupid London. Stupid everything.
Draco sat in the relatively empty waiting room of St. Mungo's (again) with yesterday's Daily Prophet and a bad head-cold.
Stupid child-proof bottle that Draco couldn't open. Stupid pills for flying everywhere when Draco had thrown the bottle against the wall. Stupid St. Mungo's.
"Dis is so stubid," Draco muttered, glaring at the newspaper and throwing it to his left. It skidded over a short stack of magazines and landed with a thunk on the tiled floor.
Stupid headache. Stupid Potter. Stupid, stupid, stupid Potter. It was all Potter's fault.
Because of course Draco didn't want to be sick, even if it meant that he could see Potter again.
And of course he had definitely put those condoms in the back of his drawer, and he was not in the habit of suddenly shaking himself awake, as if from a trance, and catching himself gazing at the box longingly from time to time.
And just because he was in the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries did not mean that he was stalking Potter – or craning his neck just to catch a glimpse of him – or wondering if Potter would be wearing those green robes again, before realizing that it was his uniform.
And he was not at all concerned at Potter in any way, shape or form.
Because that would just be stupid.
"Malfoy, Draco," said a voice from behind him.
"Aboud tibe!" Draco snapped, jumping to his feet and turning around, almost knocking over the side-table as he did so.
Two pairs of hands immediately flew to right it. Draco's hands were shaking so much, the table fell over anyway.
There was a hearty chuckle and a pair of strong, tanned hands lifted the table from the floor.
Draco's heart was pounding – it was nothing to do with the fact that it was Potter – as his eyes followed the hands to an expensive watch… the sleeves of a lime-green robe… a broad chest bearing the emblem of a crossed bone and wand… wide shoulders…
Draco felt his heart shudder to a halt and the lump in his throat dissolve as a short, squat, balding man looked up at him.
"Hello," said the Healer.
"Hello…" said Draco awkwardly.
"Shall we?" the Healer asked, gesturing towards the hall. Draco nodded in assent, fighting back his disappointment, and followed the bald man through.
.-xXXx-.
"Excuse be, but is Healer Harry here today?"
The word 'Harry' was so unfamiliar on his leaden tongue. The politeness was foreign to him, and yet he had to know.
Not that it mattered. Much.
The receptionist smiled knowingly and replied, "Sorry, but today is his RDO."
"Dab," Draco muttered. "Okay, well, thags."
"No problem," she smiled, tapping at her keyboard.
Draco sighed and left.
.-xXXx-.
He wandered the aisles of his local grocery store, buying the most depressing things: cauliflower, cereal and supermarket socks.
He let out a scream of frustration when he stepped into the cereal aisle. First, all the cauliflower was squashed. He didn't even eat the cauliflower when he bought it, and now he was annoyed at himself for being mad at the squashed vegetables.
But now the cereal aisle was blocked by a couple, their cart, and their decidedly mutual decision to make Draco's life a living hell while he waited to get his bran.
"Oh, no, honey. You don't like cornflakes, do you?" she cooed, placing the box on the shelf.
"Sweetie, if you eat cornflakes, I'll eat cornflakes," he said, snatching it back.
"Nooo, it's your turn to choose the cereal this week," she put the box away.
"Baby, anything for you," he snatched it back.
"I'm not fussed, really, darling."
"Neither am I."
"Let's just have the cornflakes."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, on second thought, Coco Puffs would be nice…"
"Drives you mad, doesn't it?" said a voice in Draco's left ear. Draco turned to see Potter leaning on a nearby shelf, watching the couple squabble.
Ignoring his now-rocketing heart, Draco grinned in reply and gave a curt "Hello".
"How have you been?" Potter asked him, tilting his head at Draco and smiling wryly.
It had been a week since they had last seen each other. Not that Draco was counting, or anything.
"Nod bad," Draco replied nasally. He took a second to glance at the items in Potter's basket: canned soup, pancake mix, one box of taco shells, three bags of tomatoes, and one bag of unsquashed cauliflower.
"Where did you get thad from?" Draco demanded, pointing at the cauliflower. Potter looked confused.
"From – um – the vegetable section," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Draco scowled at him.
"I wedt to ged the cauliflower, ad it was squashed. Why do you ged cauliflower, bud we cobbod people dode? Do I deed a scar on by forehead to ged adythig deced aroud here?"
Potter looked taken aback.
"You can take it if you want," he said, pulling the bag from his basket and handing it to Draco.
"Oh," Draco said in a small voice, clutching the cauliflower in his suddenly-sweaty hands. "Thags."
"It'll cost you, though," Potter said pensively, tilting his head and looking at Draco with those annoying, beautiful green eyes.
"Duh, Podder," Draco snapped. "Gederally, people pay for thigs wed they go to the supermarget, eved if you dode because you're Harry bloody Podder."
"I meant me," Potter said quite seriously. "You'll owe me for the cauliflower. Dinner."
"Didder!?" Draco cried incredulously. "Wid you? Are you insade?"
"Just as – you know – friends," Potter said, even though they weren't actually friends.
But Draco ignored this. He could hardly think, because of the sudden rush of blood to his brain. His heart thumped madly in his chest cavity.
"Be?" he repeated in wonder. "You wad to hab didder wid be?"
"Yeah, sure," Potter said, trying to sound offhand, but, at the same time, ducking his head, so that his dark hair hid his blush. "Tomorrow, at six? I'll pick you up from your place."
"Okay," Draco replied. Potter gave him a brilliant smile in return.
Draco gave him his address and, upon seeing Draco's watch, Potter insisted that he had to leave. Like, right now.
Draco sighed and stood in the now-empty cereal aisle, watching Potter's back as he jogged away. Suddenly, he didn't feel so sick anymore, and even the supermarket socks had a lovely rose-tinted sheen to them.
.-xXXx-.
A/N: Supermarket socks are cheap socks that you buy at your supermarket. Duh.
If you seriously cannot understand what Draco is saying (stupid blocked nose), then PM or review me and I'll send you a full translation.
Until the next chapter, my pretties…