When Harry scurries around the corner, Draco is already leaning against the wall next to the entrance of the supermarket, one foot propped up and looking for all Harry can tell superior to the people around him, like someone plucked a much idolised character from a movie and placed him exactly there, and his relaxed defensive posture is the only way he managed to cope with the situation.

Then again, Harry realises as he catches his breath to greet him, in some way, he is.

But before Harry can share this random insight with him, Draco meets his gaze with a guarded expression and simply says: "You're late, Potter.", before turning into the store and leaving it to Harry to fetch the shopping cart.

Baffled by the sudden coldness in his voice, Harry does so and quickly follows suit.

Draco scans the aisles with habitual expertise and starts tossing random groceries into the cart, leaving Harry to trod along like a stray dog.

"Can we take some of the peanut butter?", Harry asks into their silence when they pass it.

Draco turns to him with an expression of utter annoyance.

"Why? We don't even have toast."

"Well, then we could buy some."

"None of us eats any toast.", Draco replies and turns to move along.

Baffled by the deprecating reaction, Harry throws the peanut butter into the cart and adds: "That's just because we never have any. Maybe I'd like to have toast tomorrow."

Without even meeting his eyes, Draco says: "If you say so.", and makes a limp gesture towards the shelf with the bakers products.

Harry scoops up some toast, still unsure about Draco's behaviour, and drops it into the cart. Draco scrunches his nose.

"Not that one."

"Why?", Harry eyes the toast to see if there's something wrong with it.

"That's butter toast. See if they have full-grain."

"But", Harry starts, looking around unsure what to do, "butter toast is cheaper."

"So? I'm not buying anything with a price-performance-ratio that practically calls wage dumping." Draco crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at Harry.

"But you're not even eating the toast!", Harry says in exasperation.

"Doesn't make any difference. We're still spending money for it from the community coffer, to which I'm contributing. And I refuse to spend it on that."

While give Draco with a worried but challenging glance, Harry considers the options of fighting over toast and decides to go with Draco's demand for the sake of convenience. He can't determine what got Draco's mood in such a lousy state at the moment, but is sure Cora will fix it later.

When he tries to add coffee to the chart later, though, Draco stops him once again.

"We're drinking fair trade.", he decides, and takes the pack from Harry's hand, not quite meeting Harry's baffled gaze. And this pushes Harry over the edge.

"Draco", Harry snaps, "I know you're not in the position of having to look after the price of what your buying, but seriously, why do you care so much for that? It's normal for students to simply buy whatever seems fit and is cheap!"

Draco just snickers hollowly. "So the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' decides to show his true colours by not caring about child labour and thousands of people starving each day just because he wants a better price for his coffee? Interesting."

"That-", Harry draws in a breath and glides his fingers through his hair in exasperation, "that is not even what this is about!"

Draco then turns to him and finally meets his eyes along with a sneer. "So? Enlighten me then, how saving people from their sure death by killing an evil mass murderer is in any way different from simply deciding to pay a few pounds more so as to not to force people towards their sure death!"

"Why do you have to make a discussion about coffee about our past?"

Harry can't see the point Draco is coming from, this whole discussion seems like a pretended argument for a deeper issue here, but Draco makes it impossible for him to detect which. Just yesterday, everything seemed fine and Harry sensed an odd sort of... maybe friendship coming along, mingling with a well-known tension maybe, but if this how Draco gets on a regular basis, he already regrets defending him from Ron and Hermione.

"I'm not making anything about our past! It's you who obviously can't let go, with that excuse for visiting Diagon Alley and your friends today..."

But before Draco can go on mumbling comments about Harry's day, Harry interrupts him by pushing the cart out of the way and pointing an accusing index finger towards him: "Oh, now you're just being jealous! And yes, I would take any excuse to see my friends, because I value them, you know, I don't know if you know what that is, valuing people, but as it happens, I actually had to go to Gringott's today..."

"You don't make any sense!", Draco exclaims, finally showing more emotion then belittlement, "First you come here for a break from the Wizarding World, then you long to go back and then you can't stand any comments about it again! Do you know how often I get to see my parents?"

He doesn't wait for an answer as Harry's breathing quickens. "Twice. A. Year. I literally had to built myself an own, free time span in which I could act like I normally would, like a wizard, again, and for that I love Sunday's, because it feels like they allow me to breathe freely again; and then you turn up with your magic buzzing in the air like static, drawing everybody to yourself and winning every game, but you know, sometimes you just fail spectacularly at realising other people's pain!"

Some of the other customers begin to eye them warily, some with concern and others with interest, and Harry notices the lamp above them flickering, but he is to angry to be concerned about it bursting at the moment.

"That's not true!", he argues, "That's not true and you know, you just get jealous because I showed earnest interest in Cora, and because I can have proper friendly relationships, while you jump opportunities like this to show your superiority, to show how much of a better man you are with your concern for the third world, while your still afraid in your heart! Do you honestly think Mommy and Daddy would like that you spend your money on saving Muggles?"

He spits out the last words with so much venom, he can see Draco's left eye twitch in sync with the flickering of the lamp. He notices how he's stepped ever closer to Draco, both of them their hands ready to draw their wands. For a long minute, they just stand there, appraising each other with toxic stares, and everything that Harry can hear is the lamp's chirp. Then it's almost like he's hearing Parseltongue again, when Draco hisses: "Don't go there. Do not draw my parents into this."

"Then move on!", Harry spats back, "Cover name or not, don't think I haven't noticed that 'Luke' is short for Lucius, so if you don't want to be associated with them and their money, do something against it!"

He wonders how Draco is not exploding, the way his quickened breath, flaring nostrils and pulsing veins show his agitated condition. Then, without another word, Draco turns on the spot and starts walking down the aisle. Ever the bold one, though, Harry can't leave it at that and slowly screams after him: "Speaking of money", Draco turns around again, "should I spent it on our fairtrade shopping or do you want it back?"

The lamp above them bursts, and before Harry can even think about who of them did it, Draco has latched onto his throat and brings them both tumbling down into a shelf. Trying to nestle away under Draco's grip like steel, Harry fixes his gaze on his eyes and throws Draco underneath him, so that soon they are both riled up panting rolling around in vegetables, until Harry pins Draco to the floor. A shudder runs down his spine when he feels hot breath around his neck that immediately gets under his skin, paired with the low growl that escapes Draco's throat as he tries to overpower Harry.

It's then that Harry realises the people standing by, eyeing them with either horror or concealed curiosity. The sharp heaving of Draco's chest under his feels far too intimate, like their whole fight did, to be held in public. With a short apologetic nod, Harry releases Draco and scrambles to his feet. They start plucking salad bits out of their hair, but before Harry has caught enough breath to apologise properly, the shopkeeper turns up and throws them out with harsh words.

When they have found a new supermarket, they pay attention to each getting his own cart and making no comments about what the other puts into it. When they reach the counter and Harry hands Draco his money, he says: "Look, Draco, I'm..."

"Don't.", Draco interrupts him and takes his money, "There's truth in every accusation. Yours as well as mine."

And Harry isn't sure what to make of this small smile curling around Draco's lips, that is half smirk and half shy, but if he's being honest, nothing of both, really.

„So we're having Potter's Pizza tonight? Well, if it's any good you could start a diner with that alliteration.", Draco mockingly snarls as he swishingly enters the shared kitchen, where Harry is already preparing what he has promised to cook with Cora.

Harry just rolls his eyes and proceeds to knead the dough, not noticing Cora smearing wheat into his hair, making him look like a male version of Cruella De'Ville.

When Draco passes the toppings Harry has lined up on the counter, he stops to eye the horrifying amount of cheese for a moment, then turns and says: „Please, tell me you're doing them the original way, not the American, yes?"

Harry sighs and shoots him a look, still exasperated from the fight in the supermarket, but aware that is jut how Draco is from time to time. „Why, of course I am doing them the American way! What do you think I just spent a year in the States for?"

Draco shakes his head with flaring nostrils and comments: „You do know that what the Americans like to call pizza doesn't even come close to the original, proper pizza the Italians invented? I mean, I admit it took her some time, but my mother for example managed to roll the dough thin enough to make it crisp and not soaked by... cheese fat. So why don't you try, too?"

Before Harry can shoot back some exasperated response how he doesn't believe his mother ever entered a kitchen in her life, Cora interrupts: „Chill, Harry, that's how Luke gets from time to time. Downright snob if you ask me, and spoiled by mummy on top of that. Ask him if there was one flawless being on this planet, that never did any wrongs, and he would answer Narcissa Malfoy."

Cora does not understand the silence suddenly falling in the kitchen, as both Harry and Draco stare at each other with eyes slightly wider than usual, both having a reply lying heavy on their tongue, but not prepared to go there again. So Cora's eyes skip between the two of them for a few seconds, as they both seem to have stopped in their movements, until she asks: „Guys? Everything alright? Did I say something wrong?"

Harry and Draco both pointedly clear their throat before looking at her and Harry says: „No, nothing at all, Cora. Just, you know... only I get to make jokes about Luke's mom."

It's later when they are eating Harry's pizza with Laura and Nate, Draco is complaining about the „exuberance" of cheese on his piece and Harry is rolling his eyes at him, that he gets a small smile and a mouthed 'thank you' out of him, which is weird in itself, but not more than the uneasy yet warm feeling in his gut that makes him cough in his coke instead.

There is still something about Draco that feels like it's pushing him over an edge, and if he indulges into the thought, he can see his daring smile in front of him, eyes glistening with a mixture of mischief and childish joy, that evoke the experience of falling, dreamlike, with the anticipation of waking up yet not wanting to. The feeling you wish you could preserve forever at that tiny spot right under your heart, the spot that only tingles for the ones that matter.

I'm not sure if there even is a plot anymore.

I just know that the two following chapters - also the last ones - are my favourites :) xxx