Don’t get any ideas.
Yes.
No.
There, short and simple. Feeling pleased with himself, he went back to the parlour. He halted when something strange caught his eyes. Why were there suddenly two owls blinking at him? Sceptically, he went over to the new owl. His eyes widened when he recognised Potter’s messy handwriting.
Can I bring you breakfast again on Sunday?
Draco smirked. “Getting impatient, are we?” he murmured to himself. As much as he wanted Potter to suffer, he really wanted to see him again. He threw away the previous letter and scribbled down two new ones. He tied them to the owls’ feet, unable to suppress a grin.
If you must.
9am, Potter. Don’t be late.
Sunday, 12 January 2003
As Draco was getting ready for bed, his gaze fell on the little golden ball he had put on his bedside table. He felt a rush of warmth spread through him as he remembered Potter’s smile when he had given it to him. Apparently, it was some sort of Muggle chocolate. Potter had stuck two wings, made out of paper, into it, making it look like a snitch. Honestly, Draco had no idea what to make of it. He didn’t like how giddy it made him feel. And yet, he couldn’t help grinning at it while his head hit the pillow. Potter was full of surprises, and even though he shouldn’t, Draco couldn’t stop wondering what else he might have in store.
Chapter 5: A Little Too Strong
Tuesday, 14 January 2003
“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?”
“Sir, please calm—”
“I’M GOING TO CALM DOWN WHEN YOU TELL ME WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HE IS!” Draco slammed his fist on the counter, glaring at the nurse. “I need to see him. Right now. Nobody is telling me anything. I don’t even know how bad his injuries are!”
“Sir, it’s not—”
“Draco?”
He whirled around, completely taken aback by the soft green eyes blinking at him.
“P—Potter! I—I thought…” Relief and irritation flooded through him. What the bloody hell was going on? “I ran into Weasley and he said you were at St Mungo’s.”
“Yeah, to get a check-up.”
Draco’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“I’m technically still part of the Auror program. It’s mandatory to get a check-up every six months.”
Draco balled his hands into fists. Weasley! That buffoon! He should have been more specific. Then again, maybe Draco had overreacted just a little bit. He hadn’t even thought twice before running off to the hospital, frantic and panicked. If he had stopped to think about it, he would have realised Weasley wouldn’t have been in Diagon Alley but at Potter’s bedside if his condition had been serious. Bugger!
“Did you think I was hurt?”
Draco bit his lip. “No?”
“So you just like yelling at people?” Once again, Potter looked far too amused.
Draco clicked his tongue before he turned to the nurse. “I’m sorry about that,” he said.
She regarded him closely, her gaze flickering back and forth between him and Potter. “It’s alright. But if you would have let me talk, I could have told you Mr. Potter wasn’t injured.”
Draco made a face, feeling foolish for embarrassing himself, yet again, in front of Potter.
“Hey, since you’re here,” Potter grinned, “I need to run some errands. Care to join me?”
Draco just stared at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Potter was actually glad he had come to St Mungo’s. Maybe it was the confusion over that elusive thought, mixed with the relief to see Potter in one piece, that prompted him to nod.
“Great,” Potter beamed. “Although, I think we might need to transfigure your cloak into a coat.”
“Why?”
“We’re going into Muggle London.”
“What?”
Before Draco could protest, Potter pushed him down the corridor and out the door. He had the audacity to look chipper and whistle the whole way to the shop he hauled Draco to. When they stepped inside, Draco glanced around.
“Is this some kind of Madam Malkin’s for Muggles?” he asked.
“If you want to put it that way,” Potter smiled. Draco had a suspicion he would never get used to that, Potter smiling at him. He turned away, eyeing one of the mannequins as a woman approached them.
“Hello,” the woman said in a cheerful tone. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Yeah,” Potter said. “I’m looking for a suit.”
“Did you have anything specific in mind?”
“Not really.”
“Do you need it for a specific occasion?”
“Yeah, um, a wedding,” Potter said, his eyes darting over to Draco.
“Oh, congratulations,” the woman said with a big smile on her face.
“Oh, no, no,” Potter said hastily. “I’m not—We’re not—It’s not our—I’m just a guest there.”
“Ah, I’m so sorry,” the woman said, looking embarrassed while she brought up a hand to cover her mouth. “Would you like me to get a few options?”
“That would be great, thanks,” Potter said. It didn’t escape Draco’s notice that he looked a little flushed.
As soon as the saleswoman had vanished, he quietly cleared his throat, willing his voice to sound only mildly interested as he asked, “Who’s getting married?” He watched Potter fidget with the sleeve of his coat.
“Cho.”
