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Harry is lying on the floor of the kitchen when the firecall comes.
‘Harry? You there?’
He blinks up at the ceiling. He tries to answer, tries to find his voice, but he just can’t summon the energy to call out.
Halley, impatient and demanding, nudges his hand and he obligingly pets her. Her fur is soft and warm, and Harry buries his hand in it, focusing only on the feel of the soft, spiked strands sliding through his fingers.
‘Can I come over?’ calls Ron.
Harry debates saying no. His day was one of bad news delivered to devastated pet owners peppered with euthanisations. He has about zero energy left for anything other than staring up at his ceiling.
There’s a long moment of silence and Harry wonders if Ron has left. Eventually, though, he takes a breath and surprises himself by saying, ‘Yeah, sure,’ before the apathy truly sets in.
Ron steps through the fireplace, his freckled face a mixture of concern and puzzlement.
‘You’re on the floor?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Bad day?’
‘Like you didn’t know.’
Ron rubs the back of his neck. ‘Uh, yeah. Luna fire called. Said you could use some cheering up. Have you eaten anything?’
Harry tries to remember. ‘Maybe.’
Ron eyes him shrewdly. ‘How about I make you a sandwich?’ he asks, with the tone of someone expecting a “no” but hoping for a “yes”.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You never are. But you gotta eat mate, you wouldn’t let your patients starve.’
Harry sighs again.
Ron throws his hands up. ‘Fine, fine. At least let me make you a coffee, so I can feel like I’ve done something.’
‘Alright.’
Ron starts to rummage around in the kitchen, moving expertly around the cupboards—and Halley. He glances down at her briefly as he pulls down the extra large mugs.
‘Overnight watch again?’ he asks, splashing whiskey into the bottom of each mug and putting the kettle on.
‘Hm. Sort of,’ says Harry, rubbing at his eyes. ‘She was supposed to go home ten days ago.’
Ron grimaces in misplaced understanding. ‘Ah, right. Tough case, hey?’ He reaches down and gives Halley a sympathetic scratch behind her ears. ‘Is she part of your bad day.’
‘No,’ says Harry. ‘She’s actually helping.’
‘Oh. Good. When does she go home?’
‘Um…’
Right on schedule, the front door bangs open.
Harry closes his eyes, exhaling a loud puff of air in preparation for what is to come. Honestly, couldn’t he open a door like a normal person? All week he’d been exploding into rooms like a maniac. Like some grand actor making a big entrance. It was exhausting.
Halley, predictably, abandons Harry. She shoots out of the room, paws scrabbling across the wooden floorboards as she vaults toward the sound of keys being hung up and shoes being kicked off.
‘Shit, is that the owner?’ asks Ron, hurriedly shoving the whiskey back in the cupboard. ‘Do you want me to—What’re you doing here?’
‘Oh, Weasley. Damn.’ Draco Malfoy stands in the doorway of Harry’s kitchen, looking, for just one moment, incredibly awkward. Then, the universe rights itself, and Draco turns to Harry to say accusingly, ‘Potter, why didn’t you tell me we’d have guests? I didn’t get enough food.’
Ron sputters for a few moments before finally landing on, ‘We?’
‘Draco, Ron,’ says Harry wryly, as if introducing them. ‘Ron, Draco—Halley’s owner. I believe you’ve met.’
‘Oh,’ says Ron slowly. ‘So, you’re just…picking up your dog?’
‘No,’ says Draco. ‘I was picking up dinner. Potter, are you going to get up off the floor?’
‘Wasn’t planning on it.’
‘If you don’t get up off the floor, you don’t get dinner. And I bought curry.’
‘He doesn’t like curry,’ says Ron automatically, obviously still struggling to grasp the situation. ‘At least, he only likes it from this one place down in—’
‘Down on Brick Lane, yes I know,’ says Draco dryly. ‘Though he won’t get any if he doesn’t get himself up off damn the floor.’
Harry inhales slowly through his nose, building up one last, long suffering sigh before reluctantly rolling over, pushing himself up and getting to his feet.
They’re both looking at him with matching concerned expressions. It would almost be comical if Harry had any inclination to laugh.
He holds out a hand, gesturing for the coffee.
‘That better not have alcohol in it,’ says Draco, dumping the bags on the table.
Ron frowns. ‘What’s it to you?’
Draco raises an eyebrow. ‘Potter was just lying on the floor prone with depression and you think giving him alcohol is a good idea?’
‘Oh leave off,’ mutters Harry, taking the mug and breathing in the scent. ‘It’s just a dash. I’ll be fine.’
‘Hmph. You’ll wake up screaming again and then who has to deal with it. Me, that’s who.’
‘I’m sorry, what? Why the hell would you have to deal with—hang on, screaming?’ Ron turns to look at Harry. ‘You’re nightmares are back?’
Harry flushes and glares at Draco. ‘For fucks sake, Malfoy, it was one night.’
‘Harry—’ Ron starts.
‘I don’t want to talk about it!’
Ron’s mouth snaps shut and Harry sighs with relief. Halley, with the unerring ability of a dog sensing when a person needs them, nudges her head under Harry’s hand. Harry slides his fingers through her fur. The tension bleeds out of Harry’s shoulders and he takes a deep breath.
‘I suppose a dash of alcohol is understandable after a day like today,’ says Draco begrudgingly.
Harry rolls his eyes. ‘Whatever,’ he mutters, trudging over to the other side of the kitchen to attempt to drink his coffee in peace.
A moment later, Ron is at his shoulder. ‘Mate, what the hell?’
Another sigh. ‘I know.’
‘What’s he even doing here? Is he… I mean, he’s not living here… is he?’
Halley, who has trotted along after Harry, lays down next to him and places her head on his feet. Harry glances down at her and wants nothing more than to sink down to the floor and curl up next to her.
Honestly, can’t they all just leave him alone?
‘I guess?’ he says, still looking down at Halley, moving his feet to scratch her chin with his toes. ‘I don’t really know. He came over to stay with Halley while she was on observation. Apparently, he didn’t trust me to do it and, well, now he just…won’t leave.’
‘Well then make him!’
Harry glances up, raising an eyebrow.
Ron’s expression hardens. ‘It’s your house. Look, I know I’m not an Auror like you—’
‘I’m not an Auror anymore,’ says Harry, his fingers tightening around his mug.
‘—er, right, yeah of course. Sorry. I just mean… look I can make him leave.’
Harry shakes his head. Across the room, Draco’s cracked open the containers of curry and is trying to distribute the curry across three differently sized bowls without making a mess. He is not succeeding.
Despite his clinging apathy, Harry’s lips twitch into a faint semblance of a smile. ‘It’s alright.’
‘No, really,’ says Ron. ‘I’ll make him leave. I’ll drag him out by my teeth if I have to. I’ll—’
‘It’s alright,’ Harry repeats.
Ron goes quiet. Harry glances up to see a strange expression on Ron’s face. Part worry and part… what was that? Envious hope? He opens his mouth, closes it and looks away. At Draco. His brows furrow and he chews on the inside of his mouth. Like he does when he’s working on a new product that hasn’t turned out quite the way he expected. Like when he’s trying to figure out if the unexpected result is a good thing, or a bad thing.
Harry drops his gaze back down to Halley.
‘Hermione is going to kill me,’ Ron mutters under his breath.
Harry glances up again, unsure if the words were meant for him or if Ron is thinking aloud again.
‘You’re not going to go get her are you?’ he says eventually.
Ron rubs the back of his neck again, glancing sideways at Harry. ‘I was thinking about it.’
Harry sighs. ‘I wish you wouldn’t.’
‘You let Malfoy move into your house.
‘I didn’t let him do anything he just… did it.’
‘That’s not exactly any better you know.’
Harry shrugs, glancing down again.
There’s another long moment of silence. Harry continues to stare down at Halley. Halley and Ron both stare at Draco, one in adoration and the other in worrying contemplation—or, at least, worrying to Harry. Draco ignores them all.
Ron sighs and curses under his breath. ‘For fucks sake.’ He steps forward, halfway to saying, ‘it’s in the draw to your—’ when Harry grabs his arm.
‘Don’t bother,’ he says. ‘He doesn’t like help. Trust me. It’s easier to let him figure it out than to deal with the tantrum.’
Ron raises an eyebrow.
Harry shrugs again and scratches at his elbow. ‘It’s fine.’
Ron’s brows furrow again. ‘Is it really? Are you really alright?’
Harry sighs. He drinks more of his coffee. The perfect hint of whiskey burns along the back of his throat and Harry closes his eyes, enjoying the taste. Relishing the moment the buzz will seep along his skin and relax his muscles and draw all the tension from his body.
With a long exhale of breath he finally answers. ‘No.’
To Ron’s credit, there’s only the briefest hint of a pause before he says, ‘are you going to quit the vet?’
Harry keeps his gaze on Halley. ‘Probably, yeah.’
Harry feels Ron nod next to him. ‘Good.’
Harry’s gaze snaps up. ‘Good?’
Ron nods again, his blue eyes warm and earnest. ‘Yeah, I mean, anyone can see that this job is killing you. I actually think it’s worse than the Auror gig. I mean, it’s certainly not helping with your—’
He cuts off sharply and Harry is grateful that he doesn’t say the words. He feels his shoulders tense all the same, curling inwards as he scowls down at the warm, bronze liquid that's his coffee.
‘I kinda thought you’d be disappointed.’
‘What? Why?’
Harry shrugs. ‘You guys were so happy when I got this job.’
‘We were happy you got a job. Sitting around inside this house was doing nothing good for you. But dealing with dying animals on a daily basis? Mate, that would suck for anyone. I think you’ve had enough bad shit happen in your life without adding a job like this to your plate.’
Harry offers him a wan smile. ‘That’s what Malfoy said.’
Ron blinks and glances dubiously back across the room. ‘He did?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hm.’ Ron shakes his head. ‘Well, whatever. I suppose even he can say something sensible once in a while.’
‘Could say the same thing about you, Weasley,’ is Draco’s off-handed retort, proving that he is, in fact, paying attention.
Harry chuckles.
Ron glances at him again with that strange sort of happy, sort of envious expression that Harry doesn’t really understand. ‘So,’ he says, looking away. ‘What’re you going to do now?’
‘I dunno. Malfoy thinks I should cook.’
‘Oh?’ says Ron, his voice pitching high. ‘That’s… actually that’s not a bad idea. You’re a good cook.’
Harry shrugs. At his feet, Halley rolls onto her back, exposing her stomach and nudging at Harry’s foot with her nose. Harry chuckles and rubs her tummy obligingly. ‘I guess so,’ he says. ‘He asked me to teach him.’
‘Malfoy asked you to teach him to cook?’
‘Yeah.’
Ron snorts. ‘Well that’ll be interesting, considering he still hasn’t found the forks.’
‘Fuck you, Weasley.’
‘Same to you,’ quips Ron, grinning.
‘He cleans up at least,’ says Harry. ‘I haven’t touched a dirty dish all week. Soon as I’m done cooking, he’s there, tidying it all up.’ Harry shakes his head. ‘Kinda surprised me. It’s nice, though.’
Ron’s voice is cautious as he says, ‘the cleaning? Or having Malfoy around?’
Harry doesn’t look up. ‘I dunno. Both, I guess. Get’s kind of…empty. Being here on my own.’
Harry feels Ron go tense beside him. ‘Shit. Yeah, I know. Look I’ve… I’ve been meaning to come around more often. We all have. But with Rosie, and Hermione and Ginny have been so busy at work and Neville with schoolwork—’
Harry cuts him off with a shake of his head. ‘I get it. I do. I don’t expect you all to come over here every day to check on me. I’m a big boy. I can manage on my own. It’s just… it’s nice not having to. You know?’
Ron makes a face and shoves him. ‘Yeah, I know. I just… This whole thing is barmy. Who’d have thought you’d be rooming with Draco Malfoy of all people.’
‘I know.’
‘He knows what kind of curry you like.’
‘I know.’
‘He went out and bought you dinner, like, almost as if he cares that you had a bad day.’ Ron shuffles his weight from foot to foot, taps his fingers against his glass, and sighs heavily. ‘I’m kind of jealous.’
Harry blinks, and then grins. ‘What, that I’ve got Malfoy as a roommate?’
‘A little, yeah.’ At Harry’s expression, Ron bumps his shoulder into Harry’s. ‘It’s just… we’ve been trying, you know? To help. But nothing we do… look I’m just glad that you’re doing better, I am. I’m just, I’m jealous that it was Malfoy who did it, and not us. I guess we’ve been too afraid to make things worse. To push you too hard. Malfoy… well he doesn’t have that problem. He might actually be good for you to have around.’
Harry looks away and takes another sip of his coffee, unsure of what to say. ‘I know I can be difficult,’ he says eventually.
‘No, no that’s not it,’ says Ron, nudging Harry’s shoulder. ‘I just think… watching you guys earlier… Malfoy’s not gonna take any of your shit, you know? I mean, look, he’s already managed to get you off the floor and eating. Well, if he ever finds the forks.’
‘Fuck you, Weasley.’
Ron chuckles. ‘Look, if you’re okay with this, so am I.’
Malfoy turns from the opposite bench, balancing three bowls of rice and curry, complete with spoons and a slice of naan. ‘Here,’ he says, dumping the three bowls down on the small kitchen table. ‘Now, if you’ve quite finished giving Potter permission to allow me to live in his house, can we eat?’
Ron shrugs and glances sideways at Harry.
Harry rolls his eyes and pushes off the counter. ‘Alright, alright. I’m eating. Jesus.’
Ron drags out a chair, making a screeching sound that causes Draco to wince and glare. He smirks.
‘Just so you know,’ he says, picking up his fork and pointing it at Draco, ‘if you mess with Harry, or upset him, or make him worse, I will make your life hell.’
Malfoy rolls his eyes. ‘Right. You run a joke store. What are you going to do?’ he asks dryly. ‘Laugh me to death?’
Ron levels him with a wicked smile. ‘I run a joke store,’ he agrees. ‘Let’s just say, I’ll start doing all my product testing here. In your room.’
Malfoy shudders. ‘Your friend is a menace,’ he says to Harry.
‘You’re a menace,’ mutters Harry, stabbing at a piece of chicken.
It’s kind of nice, though. Eating dinner like this. The three of them joking and talking. Really talking. Harry feels like it’s been ages since he’s been this honest with Ron and a tiny sliver of guilt squirms in his gut.
‘Please,’ says Draco. ‘I’m a delight. You’re lucky to have me. If anyone here is a menace, it’s you. Honestly, you can’t even keep yourself well fed. Admit it, if I wasn’t here, you’d have starved.’
Harry, squashing the guilt, shoots Draco a friendly glare. ‘Think I was managing perfectly fine before you, actually.’
‘Ten minutes ago you were lying on the floor.’
‘Yeah, because I find you exhausting.’
Ron chuckles. ‘You two sound like an old married couple,’ he says, spooning a mouthful of curry into his mouth.
‘Well,’ says Malfoy consideringly. ‘I won’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.’
Ron promptly chokes.
Harry blinks. The faintest stirring of surprise slips past the apathetic wall he’s surrounded himself with. Across the table, Draco’s gaze is inscrutable. Harry shakes his head and thumps Ron on the back.
‘Relax, Ron,’ says Harry, as Ron manages to catch his breath. ‘He’s just teasing.’
‘I am?’ asks Draco.
Harry rolls his eyes at his chicken. ‘You can’t even call me by my first name,’ he says. ‘You expect me to believe you’ve thought of marrying me?’
‘I don’t expect anything.’
Harry frowns at him. For once, he doesn’t feel the need to look away, to drop his gaze or shy away from the conversation. Malfoy has managed to dig through his apathy and challenge the part of Harry that’s buried beneath the cloud fog.
Draco lowers his fork, looks Harry dead in the eye, and says, ‘You haven’t the faintest clue what I think about you.’
Harry, feeling an unexpected surge of heat spread across his skin, opens his mouth, unsure exactly what he’s going to say but needing, for the first time in a long time, to say something. ‘Then tell me.’
Draco, the infuriating bastard, just smirks and spoons another mouthful of curry into his mouth. ‘No. At least not yet. You’re not ready. You’re not you again yet.’
Harry frowns. He doesn’t care. Not really. He stopped caring what people thought about him a long time ago. He stopped caring about a lot of things.
But…
But this was Draco Malfoy, and Draco had always had a way of getting under Harry’s skin. The faint stirring of An Emotion coils uncomfortably in his gut. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Exactly what I said.’
Harry puts down his fork and pushes away his plate. Both Draco and Ron eye the motion. The first with annoyed displeasure, the second with worry, and from under the table comes a hopeful little whine.
‘No, Halley,’ says Draco, gaze flicking to the tabletop. ‘You’ve had your dinner. Potter needs his.’
‘I don’t need anything,’ says Harry.
Draco leans forward, ‘you need a lot more than you think you do. You need Halley. She helps you. And you need me. Even Weasley, of all people, sees that. And he’s been here what? Ten minutes? That’s how not okay you are. So yeah, you need me. And no, I won’t tell you what I think about you. Not yet.’
‘But you’ve thought about being married to me,’ counters Harry dryly, stubborn and refusing to concede.
‘Yes,’ says Draco simply. ‘I have.’
Unexpectedly, Harry’s face flushes bright red. ‘Well, that’s stupid.’
Draco simply raises an eyebrow. ‘Says you.’
‘Oh, I am so going to regret not talking you out of this,’ Ron mutters into his curry, only partly to himself.