"If you were intending to propose," says Draco, "there are subtler ways to go about it."
Harry laughs. "Believe me, bringing you to jewelry shops and looking for rings is not the tack I'd take. We're on special assignment, remember?"
"Yes. And what a coy special assignment it is." It's May now, and Harry and Draco have been assigned by Molly Weasley to help pick out a ring for her and Arthur's vow renewal. At first, Harry was confused by this concept. He knew it happened in the Muggle world, but among wizards—that seemed odd somehow. Draco and the Weasleys assured him it was a pureblood tradition. None of them clarified which anniversary it should happen, and Harry thought it best not to question.
"I've never been to Nature Alley before," says Harry, looking from shop to shop. "It's nice."
Draco shrugs. "It's fine. I had to go here a few times back when I was still considering asking a woman to marry me. The shopkeeps are pretty pushy. Watch out for that."
Harry bristles at the thought that Draco really did consider that possibility not so long ago, but he relaxes when Draco intertwines their fingers. "You know it's the furthest thing from my mind now," Draco reassures him. "Though your defensiveness is endearing." They exchange a smile and walk into a shop where a too-cheery witch begins explaining the wonder of self-sizing rings.
"We're not looking for ourselves," says Harry quickly. "Just helping a friend."
"Oh, that's too bad, dear," she says. "You two are a lovely couple. You both look rather familiar, actually."
"We get that a lot," Draco says smoothly. "We just have those kind of faces."
The witch nods. "Right. Well. What exactly is it that you're looking for?"
"Vow renewal rings for a pureblood couple," says Harry, and the witch enthusiastically bustles around as she explains to them which colors represent which sorts of relationships, and what's better for a man as opposed to a woman. It's not long before Harry and Draco have narrowed down their choices to just a handful, and Harry wonders how comfortable Molly would be with him settling on just one. At the same time, an engagement ring catches his eye. It's simple, just a smoky quartz, according to its label, on a plain silver band with a bit of an inlaid pattern. The quartz matches Draco's eye color to a T, and Harry holds himself back from trying on the ring.
Draco takes out a camera, and Harry's reminded that his boyfriend always seems to think of everything. He gets a picture or two of each rings, thanks the witch, and reaches for Harry's hand.
"You saw something, then?" he says to Harry under his breath. Harry feels his face redden and nods.
"It's alright," says Draco. "I saw something, too." And without another word about it, they head two doors over to a smallish restaurant that's serving sandwiches and salads and all manner of sugary desserts. They're in the midst of lunch when a silvery peacock approaches them. It's a stark reminder that they're in the magical world when no one around them even acknowledges the presence of a Patronus.
"That's worrying," Draco says, narrowing his eyes. "Wonder what she has to tell me."
The Patronus begins speaking then, not in his mother's voice, but in unfamiliar, clipped tones.
"Mr. Malfoy, your mother has taken ill," it says. "She is now in St. Mungo's hospital with what looks to be a variation on a disease the Muggles call meningitis. It can be cured, but not easily. She will be in the hospital for a minimum of three weeks. It is highly recommended that you come to St. Mungo's as soon as possible to help determine the next course of action."
Draco's gone paler than usual. Harry reaches over to cover Draco's hand with his and Draco draws back immediately.
"Can you take the check?" he asks. "I need to go right away."
"Sure," says Harry. "Are you sure you don't want me to go along?"
Draco shakes his head with a kind of firmness Harry rarely sees and speaks in a tone to match. "No. I think it's best if we're apart during this. I wouldn't want to bother you with my mother's illness. You can take the camera and get the pictures for Molly and Arthur."
"It wouldn't be a bother, Draco," Harry says, trying not to be offended by Draco's phrasing.
"You say that now," says Draco. "But she's not your mother, Harry. You won't have the patience for the hours I'll have to stay in the hospital now, missing work and making sure she's recovering smoothly. You're not an overly patient person by nature, nor am I, and I don't think you'd encourage me in that direction."
Harry's blood is boiling and he tries his best to disregard it as Draco stands, steps around the table, and kisses Harry, hard and fast and desperate feeling. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. And I know you're mad. You're crap at hiding it. How quickly do you think you won't be?"
"How long's your mother supposed to be there?"
"Three weeks or longer, they said."
Harry pauses before saying, "I think that'll be long enough for me to cool down."
Draco nods as though this is perfectly fair, and through his anger, Harry acknowledges that no one else gets him quite like this. "I'm sure I'll go back into work eventually. Maybe you'll be calm enough by then to say hello. I love you, alright? Remember that. Please. And just ... forget about me for the time being. Go out with our friends. Keep yourself busy. Be without a boyfriend for however long."
Harry nods and resists the urge to kiss him again. Draco doesn't.
"I love you, too," he says after Draco's broken off. "I just happen to hate you a bit right now. And I'm sorry about your mother."
Draco nods and Disapparates and Harry feels more alone than he has since the fall.