The next morning Harry awoke hungover and exhausted. He showered and dressed quickly and then slumped down to the kitchen for a remedy. He kept a small selection of crucial potions in the cabinet over the sink, and right now what he needed was the hangover cure.

He had barely knocked back a dram when he heard bare feet on the wooden stairs. Draco dragged himself to the table and collapsed as though dying. He moaned and wallowed dramatically until Harry pushed the potion bottle towards him.

"Bloody hell, that hit the spot," Draco gasped as his head cleared and his stomach settled. He was shirtless again, nothing but satiny trousers adorning his lithe figure.

"Better?" Harry capped the potion and slipped it back inside the cabinet.

"Muggle Adventures, my arse," Draco pointed. "You're packing potions, you wanker."

"Only for emergencies," Harry said firmly. "I'd better not catch you down here rummaging through my supplies later."

"Piss off, where's my breakfast?" Draco said rudely, although the curl of his lip suggested he was teasing.

Harry was caught between the uncomfortable sloshy, possibly inaccurate memory of the previous night's events and Draco's, well, could he call it friendliness? Perhaps he didn't recall what had happened. Perhaps Harry was overthinking it. How many times had he done something embarrassing at a piss-up, only to be forgiven later? It was part and parcel of the whole drinking experience, really. Draco didn't seem to think anything of it, so he should probably let it go, too.

He wondered briefly if this might be part of his problem with Colin. He overthought everything instead of letting it go. He wondered if he was neurotic.

"Coming right up, sir," Harry turned to the stove and set a pan over the flame. He waved his hand and summoned the butter, then floated the egg carton and a slab of bacon.

"Now you're just showing off," Draco leaned on his elbows and rolled his eyes. "Besides, coffee first, food second."

"Coffee is in there, second shelf," Harry pointed with his wooden spoon without looking up.

Draco padded over to the pantry and retrieved the coffee grounds. Without being asked he dumped a handful into the French press and set the kettle over a burner to boil. Harry was keenly aware that they were standing shoulder to shoulder at the stove, except Draco's shoulder had nothing covering it. He was just slightly taller than Harry, maybe an inch or so. Just enough so that it would be quite comfortable if he slipped his arm around Harry's shoulder.

He told his brain to fuck off.

"Come on," Draco stared at the coffee pot as though he could will it to brew.

"A watched pot never boils," Harry said mildly, refusing to move to accommodate Draco's attempt to dominate the stove. Their biceps bumped as Harry set various food items over the remaining burners.

"It does if you use Incendio," Draco shot back. He, too, refused to budge.

"A bigger fire doesn't make it boil faster," Harry snorted.

"I would Incendio this whole kitchen if it would make it boil faster." Draco's tone was woeful and dramatic.

"You could make the toast while you wait," Harry waved over a loaf of sliced bread and pointed to the chrome electrical device.

Draco snatched the bread out of the air and eyed the toaster warily. "In the slots, right?" He asked.

"Yes, just slip it in and push that little lever down," Harry said as he put the mushrooms on to heat.

Draco peered over the top of the appliance as the heating element warmed up and glowed red. His face was right over the slots and Harry knew exactly what was coming up. He tried not to show any anticipation and give it away. When the toast popped up Draco yelped and leaped back with his hand clutching his heart. Harry laughed so hard he nearly had to sit down.

"Did you know it was going to do that?" Draco's eyes were as round as dinner plates. He looked as though the life had been scared out of him.

"That's what toasters do," Harry said when he was able to speak.

"In. Elegant," Draco pointed sharply on each syllable. He removed the toast and loaded in two more slices.

Harry assembled the remaining components of the meal and started stacking them on the trays. He popped the cosy over the teapot and turned to retrieve the toast.

"Oh," he said mildly. "I see you've done the whole loaf."

Draco was standing smugly with a coffee mug raised to his lips. A tall, crooked stack of toasted bread rose like a tower from the stone countertop. Harry stared at it in bemusement, wondering what on earth to do with it all.

"It took a few tries but I'm pretty good at it now," Draco said proudly.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and put a few slices on the tray. He slipped the food into the dumbwaiter and before he could press the button Draco darted around him and did it himself. He raised an eyebrow challengingly, as though daring Harry to tell him he shouldn't.

"Be right back," Harry shook his head and went upstairs to serve. The older guests were in the dining room, having found the Daily Prophets by the fireplace. They greeted him pleasantly as he served, and even Lucius seemed to be in a good mood. Harry wondered if getting away from the temptation of magic was good for some people.

He returned to the kitchen and found Draco cracking eggs into the pan with none of the clumsy incompetence of his toaster adventure. Harry didn't know what to do with himself. Everything else was prepared. He sidled up to the stove and peered into the pan to make sure nothing was getting burnt. Draco jutted his elbow into his ribs and knocked him aside.

"I've got it," he said with a sneer. "I'm not completely useless, you know."

"Frying an egg without a shirt seems unnecessarily risky," Harry backed off and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Breakfast and a show," Draco gently folded in the whites with the spatula. "I used to make breakfast for myself during the war," he added, his voice softer and distant. "One of the few comforts I could afford myself."

He slipped two eggs onto a plate and assembled the remaining components, including a slice of toast from the bread tower. He shoved the plate into Harry's hands and pointed his elbow at the table. Harry obediently sat, not really sure why his former schoolmate was serving him. Draco topped off his coffee and then sat with his own plate and mug.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Harry had to admit that the eggs were passable. He had expected much worse. He wondered if he should make an effort to be more charitable.

"I may have overdone it on the toast," Draco said suddenly. He looked up questioningly, eyebrows raised.

"It's okay," Harry shrugged. "We can..." he frowned, wondering what they could do with a stack of toast that would be too stale to use by morning. "We can feed ducks," he finished weakly. Draco shook his head as though it were all Harry's fault.

When they were finished Draco went back upstairs to shower and dress while Harry set the cleaning charms in motion. The guests had figured out that they could dress and fit themselves in the clothing room so they were ready to go by the time he emerged from the kitchen.

To his surprise Lucius was wearing a t-shirt, a fitted black one with graphic flames rising from the hem and sleeves. He wore dark jeans and black boots, and with his long blond hair he looked somewhat like a rockstar. Harry was impressed and wondered if Lucius would keep his selection if he knew how his style would be perceived.

Narcissa wore a flowered sundress and a broad straw hat. The ensemble made her look ten years younger than she was, and Harry thought she actually looked quite pretty. Gliese was wearing a pink tank top and a long floral skirt, with a shawl around her shoulders that she might have brought from home.

Draco emerged from the dressing room in a slim-fitted sapphire blue rugby shirt with white vertical stripes running up the sides that emphasized his long torso. Harry rebuked himself sharply for the observation, but it was true. Harry felt a bit plain in his conservative collared button-down and khaki trousers, and rebuked himself again.

They assembled in the drawing room to discuss their options for the day. They didn't know what they wanted to do, so they looked to Harry for suggestions.

"You still want to do the football game tomorrow, right?" Harry asked. "Gliese, you mentioned to Dean that you were interested in DIY. We could spend the day seeing some of the normal muggle ways of getting things done. Visit a grocer, a chemist, a post office and a DIY warehouse. There's one near here that does workshops where they teach you how to do projects. Proper muggle projects by hand," he added.

Lucius and Narcissa blanched at the suggestion. Draco popped his Wayfarers onto his face and looked disinterested in the decision. So Gliese made the decision for them and they departed to do exactly as Harry had said.

Harry directed the taxi to the nearest Tesco, figuring his guests could marvel at the wide aisles and variety of packaged goods. As he expected they were dumbfounded by the sheer volume of available foodstuffs. He had to keep urging them along as he pushed the trolley down the aisles. He picked up a fresh loaf of sliced bread to replace the one Draco had toasted, a selection that did not go unnoticed by the blond boy. Draco smirked and hefted the loaf thoughtfully.

"I think I'll sneak down there while you're sleeping and toast the whole thing again," he said with a devilish grin.

Once Narcissa and Gliese realized what the trolley was for, they started picking out items to bring home for sampling. The brighter the packaging colors, the more likely they were to want them. They picked out biscuits and cereal and crisps and canned peas and brightly hued beverages and soon the basket was nearly overflowing.

"This is going to cost a lot," Harry warned them as Narcissa read the label on a packet of seasoning to Lucius. Gliese dropped a bottle of salad dressing into the cart with a generous smile.

"I'm sure it's fine, dear," she said in a mothering tone.

Harry was at a dangerous intersection with his guests. Gliese was treating him like one of her brood, using pet names and deferring to his opinion. Lucius had stopped glowering and Narcissa didn't seem at all intimidated by his presence anymore. Draco was practically joking around with him. He reminded himself that he was not on holiday with them. He was facilitating their holiday. He was hired help. They seemed to have forgotten, but he couldn't afford to.

He lagged behind the four wizards, pushing the heavily laden cart along, wondering what they would do with their purchases when they got home. Suddenly they drew up short, stunned into silence. Harry wheeled up behind them and peered over their shoulders to see what had halted them.

"What is-"

Draco grabbed his hand. It was a dramatic gesture, probably meant in irony, but he held it tightly, his fingers wrapped like a vice around Harry's. Seconds ticked by, maybe two, maybe fifty, but Harry couldn't afford the brain space to determine that for sure. Because every synapse was presently occupied, shouting, "Are you aware that Draco fucking Malfoy is holding your hand?"

Yes, brain, please calm down.

It shouldn't have rattled him, not this badly, he thought. It was a joke, a familiar play on his family's muggle naïveté, a false awe put on for effect. But the fact remained that he had swept Harry's hand up in his own and was now, at this moment, holding it.

Well maybe swept was an overly romantic way to describe it. He had grabbed it, snatched it, even. Sweeping it up would probably be followed by pressing his lips to Harry's knuckles, or lightly stroking his palm-

Bloody hell, no.

It was a silly thing, except another moment passed and he was still holding on, and his mother was commenting about the chill in the air, and Lucius was eyeing the slabs of frozen meat suspiciously, and Gliese had found the ice lolly case and Draco was still holding his fucking hand.

Harry couldn't move. He had no options, no control, not until the other boy let go. What was he supposed to do, curl his fingers and return the grip? Walk away like he didn't care? Wait, did he care? He stood with one hand on the trolley and one hand locked in Draco's ironic, surely ironic grip, and he just had to wait. He was like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck, limp and helpless and unable to escape.

Finally Draco turned with a glint of crazed delight in his eye. "Ice cream?" he asked breathlessly.

Harry nodded his head, the only part of his body he could move at the moment.

And just as suddenly as it came, the grip was released. Draco let go and ran to Gliese's side, where she was rattling off flavours of products in the frozen novelty case.

Harry exhaled, completely and unjustifiably shaken. If he was honest with himself, the contact had probably been less than a minute in duration, not terribly intimate, and clearly meant as a bit of a dramatized reaction to the frozen wonderland ahead of them. Certainly nothing to get worked up over.

His cheeks burned with humiliation. He was ashamed that he had reacted the way he had. That he'd reacted at all. There was no way anything would or could happen, so what was he thinking? He quickly scrambled for his mobile and acted preoccupied, to give himself a moment to compose his expression.

"They'll melt all over the place," Narcissa was protesting as Gliese directed Draco to pile boxes of frozen treats into the cart.

"Draco said Harry has a fridge," Gliese waved her away.

"Then what? We don't have a fridge," Narcissa crossed her arms across her chest. "We can't take it with us, and we can't eat all of that before we leave on Sunday."

"We can leave what we don't use," Draco said. "Potter and Thomas can use it for their next guests."

"It's really all right," Harry looked up and pocketed his phone.

"Only two," Narcissa said firmly, showing the first backbone since their arrival. She and Gliese exchanged stern looks until Gliese finally conceded with a smile.

This kicked off an intense debate about which two. They finally decided on a multi-flavour pack of ice lollies and a carton of chocolate ice cream. Harry tried to tell them the ice cream wouldn't be much different from what they'd had at Florean Fortescue's shop at Diagon Alley, but they wouldn't listen. It was muggle ice cream, churned with machines and electricity, and that was different enough.

They finally made their way to the registers to ring up a fortune of groceries. Harry converted the total to Galleons and whispered it into Gliese's ear. She giggled hysterically but told him to continue. Harry paid up and hoped their account at Gringotts was as good as their reputation said. If not, he would eat the cost of a trolley full of groceries he didn't even want.

They flagged down a taxi and piled the bags into the boot. Which of course meant they had to stop off at Grimmauld Place to drop them off. And of course thanks to the Fidelius Charm Harry couldn't carry the bags in straight away, not without making the driver privy to its secret. So instead he piled the bags onto the curb as everyone climbed out. Harry tried to swallow a sigh as the black cab departed and he tallied up the number of trips it would take to get everything inside.

"Help him, Draco dear," Gliese patted his shoulder.

Draco looked up from his sunglasses with surprise and realized what Harry was doing. He hefted several bags in both hands and followed Harry up the stairs. Between the two of them, with every finger hooking a bag and arm muscles straining they managed to get it all in one go. The older guests chose to wait out front in the lovely midday breeze.

"Hurry up, my arms are breaking," Draco grunted as they hobbled down the stairs to the kitchen.

They deposited their load onto the oversized table and stared at it in mutual disbelief for a moment.

"Why did we buy all of this?" Draco wondered aloud.

"Marketing," Harry said, searching the bags for frozen items that needed to be put away first. He was still feeling awkward from the little hand-holding episode and didn't know how to speak to Draco in its wake.

"What's that?"

"It means they put colors and words on the packages that made you want them, even though you didn't need them," Harry crammed groceries into the fridge wherever they would fit. "The muggle world is overrun by marketing."

"I didn't notice," Draco said, unpacking bags and setting items in a row for Harry to put away.

"It's sneaky," Harry said. "Think of it this way. Say you've got a nimbus X90. Fastest broom around. Now lets say Firebolt makes a broom exactly as fast. They want people to buy their broom, too. But why should anyone buy it if it isn't any better? They would have to make you think you need it. Make the handle a different color. Put a fancier name on it. That's marketing."

Draco frowned thoughtfully. "Sounds dastardly."

"No," Harry shook his head. "It's how lots of things work. When you don't really have anything to prove your worth, you rely on false promises. Like telling people purebloods are better than halfbloods or mudbloods so they'll pledge their loyalty to you and throw their lives away."

Draco's eyes flashed darkly. Harry instantly regretted his words. Everything had been going so pleasantly. He supposed he was a little annoyed with Draco for putting him off-kilter, and perhaps he was fatigued from the strain of customer care. Or maybe he was angry that Draco had tapped into a feeling of powerless frustration and desire that only Colin had been able to touch, and he needed to lash out, to hurt him a bit for doing so. Not a good excuse.

Draco started to turn away, as though to head upstairs without a word. Harry darted his hand out and caught Draco by the fingers to stop his retreat. The Slytherin boy looked up in surprise, anger still carving a groove between his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Draco peered at him, and Harry decided the look in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt. He had let his guard down, shown a side of himself that Harry had to believe few people had seen, and Harry had lashed out at him for no good reason.

"I'm sorry," he said again, gently tugging Draco's hand, feeling totally helpless to undo what he'd said. Draco stepped towards him, his expression guarded and wounded. Without thinking Harry pulled him all the way into an embrace. Draco stood stiffly with his arms at his sides. Harry didn't know why he was hugging him, it just seemed like he needed to, so he could show somehow that he really didn't want to be enemies. Not anymore.

He released Draco and stepped back, ducking his head and going back to the groceries. He didn't know what else to do. Draco stood and watched silently for a moment, as though rooted to the spot. Finally he started unpacking bags again and setting items out for Harry to put away. When they were done they went upstairs so they could get on with their day. Harry excused himself and stopped off in the loo.

He relieved himself and cleaned his glasses, and as he was washing his hands he caught his own eye in the mirror. He glared sternly at his reflection. "Pull yourself together," he said firmly. "You're upset about Colin and you're taking it out on everyone else." He thought hard and pulled up a word he'd heard his Aunt Petunia use after hearing it on the telly once. "It's transference," he said, proud of himself for remembering the complex term. "You like Colin, but you can't have Colin. So you've projected that onto Malfoy," He nodded, agreeing with himself. Merlin, he was losing it.

He opened the door and jumped as he realized Draco was waiting for him in the foyer. Had he heard anything?

"Were you talking to yourself?" Draco eyed him warily.

"A little bit," Harry said truthfully.

"It's finally happened," Draco shook his head sadly. "The Malfoys have finally driven Harry Potter mad." He cocked his head to the side. "The Dark Lord would have been so proud."

Harry winced. He didn't know whether Draco was serious or if he should laugh.

"Gotcha," Draco smiled apologetically and reached out to squeeze Harry's hand.

There was a lot of hand holding going on today.

Harry smiled weakly back. "I shouldn't have said anything," he said. "Sometimes I say things without thinking."

"That's why you were sorted into Gryffindor, you know," Draco was still holding his hand. Harry's stomach felt funny.

"I was almost sorted into Slytherin," Harry said.

"Really?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Now that would have changed everything."

He was still holding Harry's hand. Harry didn't know what to make of it. He knew what he wanted to make of it, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions. It could just be a friendly gesture, of course. And Harry had set the precedent for that in the kitchen. So reading something into it would be a terrible idea. He looked up into Draco's eyes to try to figure out what he was thinking, but just at that moment the front door handle jiggled.

They let go simultaneously as the door swung open, revealing the elder Malfoys. "Are you coming?" Lucius demanded haughtily. "There's only so much standing around on sidewalks that I will tolerate."

"We're coming," Draco said with annoyance. They exited and Harry locked the door behind him, although with the Fidelius Charm it was probably unnecessary. He waved down a taxi and they all piled in. Harry directed the driver to the nearest B&Q DIY warehouse and they were off towards their next experience.