Chapter Ten
Discussions
That night, Harry sat by the computer again, letting his fingers fly over the keys as he typed. He felt bad; he wasn’t working on his book, but rather on the new story that he’d started two days earlier. He wasn’t quite sure where the story was going yet, but it didn’t matter; his fingers seemed to know well enough.
“What is it you are writing so furiously?”
Harry jumped, startled. He turned to Draco. “Story,” he said simply.
“What about?”
“Um— it’s about— it’s kind of hard to explain,” Harry said, blushing.
“Try?” Draco suggested.
“I’d really rather not,” Harry said.
Draco frowned at him then his expression turned cool. “All right, whatever. I don’t care. I just thought it’d be polite to seem interested. You are a published author after all.”
“You know that?” Harry was surprised.
“Didn’t know it till I met you again and found out that you’re Harry Evans, but yeah, I’ve seen your books.” Draco’s tone was still cool.
Harry smiled slightly at him, hoping to get Draco back into friendly-mode, as he’d been before. He just didn’t want Draco to find out what he was writing about. That would be embarrassing.
Just as Harry opened his mouth to speak again, the doorbell rang. Harry stood up and walked to the door.
“Hermione!” he said, surprised and happy to see her.
“Hello, Harry. Ooh, nice clothes,” she said, eyeing Harry. Harry blushed and motioned for her to follow him into the apartment once she was done hanging up her jacket. After getting her shoes off, she hugged him. “How are you?”
“Good,” Harry said, “and you?”
“Oh, you know,” she smiled, “busy as always. Lots to do at St Mungo’s and with classes.”
“Well, as far as I can remember, you like it that way. Busy, I mean,” Harry said as they walked into the apartment.
“I do,” she said.
“Oh, and I have good news for you,” Harry said.
“Is that so?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah. Draco is better again.” He led her into the living room and gestured towards Draco.
A look of shock or surprise passed over her face before it settled into a happy smile. “Hello, Malfoy.”
“Granger,” Draco greeted the young woman levelly.
“You look much better than the last time I saw you.” She turned to Harry. “What was wrong with him?”
“Well,” Harry said. “It seems like it was the potion that made him that way. I forgot to give it to him one night – actually, it was the last time you were here – and he woke up. Then the next morning, he was okay, but after breakfast he zoned out again, so I figured that it was the potion. Did you know it could have such side-effects?”
Hermione looked thoughtful. “There has been a case like it before, but the potion is used quite often, although in smaller doses, as a pain reliever, and usually the taker doesn’t experience any problems at all. I’m sorry that it happened – I should have checked more carefully before giving it to you.”
“No worries, ‘Mione,” Harry said happily. “We figured it out, didn’t we? And he’s okay now.”
“Okay and would appreciate it if you didn’t talk as though he wasn’t here,” Draco muttered.
“—just as grouchy as before,” Harry added with a small smile. “Would you like anything to drink, Hermione?”
“Do you have any coffee?”
“I can put some on if you’d like it,” Harry said.
“Oh, that’s not—”
“It’s not a problem at all,” Harry assured her. “Draco, would you like some coffee? I rather feel like some myself.”
Draco gave a small shrug. “I can take a cuppa.”
“Well, then, Hermione, you just sit down and I’ll be back in a minute,” Harry said and left the living room to prepare the coffee.
When Harry came back, with three cups of coffee, sugar and milk on a tray, he was met by an uneasy silence. He rolled his eyes mentally and asked himself if the two would ever put aside their differences from school.
“There you go,” he said and handing Hermione her cup and then giving Draco his.
The uneasy silence settled again, before Harry asked, “So, ‘Mione, how’s the science going?”
She smiled at him. “Oh, it’s so much fun,” she said. “We get to do all sorts of experiments, to see how different substances react with each other. Nothing dangerous, of course, but it’s very interesting. It reminds me of Potions, sometimes.”
“Yeah, because Potions was so much fun,” Harry said sarcastically.
“Potions is a very interesting subject,” Draco said, getting into the discussion as well.
“Yeah, but I always did have a hard time learning when my Professor wouldn’t leave me alone for five minutes and would deduct points for my breathing,” Harry said.
“On the other hand, you had the Headmaster on your side,” Draco said.
“Professor Dumbledore was on everyone’s side!” Harry said.
“Oh, yes,” Draco said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“He was fair, which is a lot more than I can say about Professor Snape,” Harry said.
“Fair? Oh yes, so fair.” Draco paused, glaring at him. “Want an excellent example of just how much he played by favourites? First year, when Slytherin had honestly won the House Cup. But no, he didn’t think Slytherin should win it, so he awarded Gryffindor a few ‘last-minute-points’ so that you got it instead. And for some reason, it was just enough to beat Slytherin.”
“We earned that,” Harry said. “We—“
“—fought Voldemort? Yes,” Draco said, “you did have an uncanny habit of doing that at the end of every year, didn’t you? Even managed to get the last, final battle to happen at the end of your seventh year – that is some good planning. Either way, Dumbledore could have given those points to you much earlier in the first year, several days – not at the feast, after the decorations were set and we’d found out we had won the Cup.”
Harry opened his mouth to say something but shut it again because he couldn’t really argue with Draco’s point. He glared at Draco and finally said, “Well, one event is not enough to call it favouring.”
“Oh, come off it, Potter,” Draco said. “You know just as well as I do that Dumbledore far preferred Gryffindors over any other House, although it wasn’t as pronounced when it came to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, since they never stood out in anything anyway.”
Deep down, Harry knew him to be right – he’d known already back at school. Fighting about what Dumbledore had thought about the different Houses was just a way for them to discuss school without discussing any more serious subjects.
As the two men glared at each other, Hermione looked from one to the other. “Um, guys?”
At the sound of someone else’s voice, they both snapped out of it.
“Sorry, Hermione,” Harry said sheepishly. Draco stayed silent, watching the two former best friends. Harry continued, “So, you were saying about your studying…?”
“Before you two started off, you mean?” she said with a smile at him. “You two are just like in school.”
A brief frown passed over Harry’s face, before he shrugged. “It was just a discussion.”
“Yeah, and one where you couldn’t agree – that sounds to me like it did in school,” Hermione said. “Either way, tell me a bit about what’s going on with you instead. School is not that much fun to talk about.”
“Well,” Harry said, “in that case my what’s-going-on-right-now isn’t all that much fun either, because it’s mostly just classes. That and Draco and he can answer for himself.”
“I guess he can,” Hermione said, looking over at Draco. “Is the spell still in place?”
“Yes,” Draco said, his voice cool and businesslike. “It’s releasing its hold a bit more every day, but it’s in place.”
Hermione gave him a curt nod. “It should stay on another few days; your back will be as healed as it will ever be after that.”
“He’s doing really well,” Harry said, smiling. “He baked cookies yesterday. Actually, I think there are some left, if you would like something to go with the coffee.”
“Well, the coffee is almost gone, but I’ll take cookies any day,” she said.
“Would you like more coffee?” At her nod, Harry turned to Draco and he nodded as well. A few minutes later, Harry was back with a plate with cookies and more coffee.
“So, Harry,” Hermione said, “you really don’t have anything interesting going on in your life? Or anyone?”
Harry felt his cheeks heat up at her words and he wondered why he was blushing at such an innocent question.
Draco snorted at him. “Potter’s got a hot date tomorrow.”
“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful!” Hermione said, sounding absolutely delighted. Harry couldn’t understand why she cared so much. “Who is she?”
Again, Draco answered. “A fan of his. A little young thing that followed him home one night just to find out where he lived, so that she could ask him out.”
“A fan?” Hermione asked curiously.
Harry shrugged, his blush deepening and a hate towards Draco growing. “She’s just— she’s read my books, apparently, and I’m going out with her tomorrow night and she’ll see that I’m not interested.”
“Not interested? Why not?”
Another shrug. Harry did not want to get into the subject of his sexual preferences right now, especially not in front of Draco. It would be humiliating beyond repair. He also didn’t want to try explaining to Hermione just how uncomfortable Mona made him feel. “She’s just not my type.”
“Oh, just give her a chance!” Hermione said.
“Yes, Harry, just give her a chance!” Draco mimicked in a high-pitched voice, earning a burning glare from Hermione.
Harry stood, throwing his hands up. “I’m going out with her tomorrow, isn’t that enough? How much more of a chance can I give her?”
“Just have fun, Harry,” Hermione said, taking his hand and pulling him down to sit again. “That’s all I want. But tell me a bit about her – what’s her name? How old is she? What does she look like?”
“Um—” Harry said. “Dark hair. About this tall, I think—” he held out his hand to show “—and her name is Mona D’Razi. I don’t know how old she is, but I think she’s about eighteen or so.”
“D’Razi? An unusual name,” Hermione said.
“I guess.”
“But really, Harry, you’re going out with her and you barely remember how she looks.” At his helpless shrug, she added, “Well, just have a fun night, even if it doesn’t turn into anything else.”
Harry nodded and gave her a small smile, before quickly changing the subject to something safer. They spent a half hour doing small talk, mostly Hermione and Harry talking. Nothing heavy; no subjects that touched the past any more than the discussion Harry and Draco had. It was just a relaxing conversation between old friends.
Finally, Hermione stood. “I guess it’s time for me to go,” she said. “Although, I do need to use the bathroom…?”
Harry pointed where she would find it and she took her handbag and disappeared. Harry eyed Draco. “You’re turning into a coffee-oholic.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Harry grinned at him. “I’ll have to take you to Espresso House some time.”
“That’s where you got the takeaway, right? Good stuff. But I prefer an espresso. Single, with a bit of dark chocolate to go with it.”
Harry continued to smile. “’s what I thought you’d prefer, actually.”
Draco looked horrified at being predictable. “You are not supposed to be able to figure such things out about me just by – by being with me!”
Harry chuckled. “You’d be surprised at the amount of things I’ve figured out by just watching you, Malfoy.”
Before he had time to elaborate, Hermione returned. “This is truly a lovely apartment, Harry,” she said. “Although I was wondering – where do you sleep? I hope you don’t mind – I peeked into your room, and there is only the one bed.” Suddenly she blushed. “You don’t— I mean— You’re not—”
Suddenly Harry caught onto what she was thinking and he blushed as well. “No, no, we’re not— we’re most definitely not— sharing a bed,” he quickly assured her. “I sleep on the couch.”
Draco was having a hard time suppressing his laughter at Harry’s blushing, Harry noticed, and he quickly stood to follow Hermione out. As soon as the door had closed behind her, he heard Draco explode into a fit of laughter.
“’We’re not— we’re most definitely not— sharing a bed’,” Draco imitated between fits of giggles.
“Not funny,” Harry said sourly.
“Oh, yes, Potter, very funny,” Draco said, his laugh growing at Harry’s pout.
“You know, I could let you sleep on the couch one night,” Harry said, eyes narrowing.
Draco quickly sobered. “You wouldn’t.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at him.
“But— but I’m the hurt one!” Draco exclaimed.
“If you can laugh like that, you can sleep on the couch,” Harry said, grinning evilly at Draco. “Good night!”
He left the living room and a spluttering Draco behind.
As it turned out, Harry did have to see and help Draco more that evening, with the usual evening chores; brushing teeth and – taking a shower. Harry had just washed the cookie-plate and the coffee-mugs, with Draco sitting next to him in his wheelchair with a towel in his hands, drying the items off, when Draco said,
“Harry?”
“Yes?”
“I would like to shower tonight,” Draco said, his voice quiet.
Harry suddenly realised that Draco hadn’t had a shower in several days. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
Draco’s cheeks reddened at the question and Harry understood that embarrassment lay behind. “Well, it’s no problem,” Harry said. “We’ll do it as soon as we’re finished here.”
Once in the bathroom, Harry helped Draco take his clothes off as he had every day since the very first night. The air was slightly less embarrassed now than the first night after Draco had ‘awoken’ again, but not much.
“Do you remember how we’ve done this when you were…” Harry asked, wondering what he should call the state Draco had been in. Comatose? Sleeping?
Draco frowned slightly. “You put me on a chair in the shower and then you cleaned me off, right?” he said finally.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. That’s what we’re going to continue doing until the spell wears off. I will wash your hair, but you can wash your body if you want to. I will be in the shower with you, to hold you steady and help you. All right?”
Harry noticed Draco swallowing before giving a small nod.
“All right, let’s get you out of those boxers, then, and I’ll lift you onto the stool in there,” Harry said.
He lifted Draco up and Draco pushed his boxers down as far as he could. Harry set him down again and pulled the boxers off completely, his eyes squeezed shut and when his eyes were open, they were nowhere near Draco’s crotch. Instead they landed on Draco’s skinny, pale legs.
Draco also had his eyes closed, seemingly thinking that if he didn’t see it, it wasn’t happening. The blush of humiliation was still there, although Harry was doing his very best in making it as comfortable for him as possible.
Gently, Harry lifted Draco from the wheelchair to the chair in the shower. “Just sit and relax and I’ll be in there in a moment,” Harry said. He pulled off his own clothes, but left his boxers on.
“Okay,” he said, getting back into the shower stall, “tell me if it’s too hot or too cold.”
He reached over and turned the water on. Draco sat facing the shower stall doors, so that the stream of water hit him on the top and back of his head, where Harry could avoid most of the water – although he was always far from dry when the showers were done.
“Is it all right?”
There was a low, mumbled, “Yes.”
“I’ll do your hair first and then you can wash yourself, okay?”
There was no answer, but Harry assumed it would be all right. He took the shampoo and lathered Draco’s hair, massaging it into his scalp. He hoped to make the showering experience at least a bit positive; so far, Draco had mostly seemed mortified. Of course, for him to go four days without a shower, he would have to be mortified. Harry scolded himself for not remembering, but at the same time he knew why he hadn’t. When Draco had been comatose or whatever, his health and everything else had relied on Harry to be all right. Now that Draco was back to his normal self, a part of Harry forgot that he still wasn’t able to do everything. Taking a shower was such a trivial thing; it was expected that a grown man just did it, not that someone else had to remember it for him.
“I’m done,” Harry said after a few minutes of massaging and thoroughly rinsing Draco’s soft hair.
He handed Draco the soap and stood behind the other man as he washed himself, ready to aid him if he needed help or to catch him if he lost balance. The act went without incident, though, with Draco not washing the lower part of his legs, as he couldn’t bend that far and he didn’t ask Harry to do it for him.
Harry turned the water off and swept a big towel around Draco, like parents do with their children.
“Can you dry yourself?”
Draco answered by starting to dry himself. When he couldn’t reach any further – to dry his legs and his hair – Harry took over without a word.
Finally, Harry wheeled Draco into the bedroom. There he helped Draco put his pyjamas on. They were new pyjamas, which they had bought on their shopping trip. They were black silk. They had been expensive, but considering how much time Draco spent in it and how few other nice clothes they had found, Harry had decided that it didn’t matter.
Draco pulled the cover over himself, closing his eyes as Harry turned the light off. “I thought you said I’d be sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “But like you said, you are the hurt one.”
It could have been said mockingly, in a way that would have hurt Draco, but the words came tenderly, soothing Draco’s embarrassment. Harry couldn’t help but lean forward and brush a stray strand of hair from Draco’s eyes. Then he stood and walked out. Just before he reached the door, though, Draco said,
“Harry?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
Harry looked at the blond man lying in his bed and in the weak light from the hallway he thought he could detect a small smile on Draco’s lips.
Then he left, closing the door behind him.
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