Found, Never Lost

Chapter 13: A Restless Morning

Tuesday, June 21, 2004

Berlin-Charlottenburg, very early

Harry woke up with his knees and one of his arms dangling over the edge of the mattress. Besides being uncomfortable, he was freezing, felt like he'd been run over by a hippogriff, had a horrible taste in his mouth, and wanted a cup of coffee. Rather badly. All of which made getting up sound like a pretty good idea. On the other hand, his back was snugly pressed against something warm and soft...

He pushed himself up on one elbow and pulled the alarm clock close enough to see. It wasn't quite as early as yesterday morning but still too early to get up on a day off. The heck with it! Coffee would be just as good in an hour or two. Where was his cover? Fumbling around groggily, he got hold of a handful of fabric and pulled. Nothing happened. Of course. Draco was monopolising the duvets, as usu... Oh. Oh!

The realisation that he was rubbing backsides with Draco very nearly caused him to tumble out of bed. It took him a few moments to remember why he and Draco had slept together and several minutes to convince himself that it might be a good idea to leave before Draco woke up - against the protests of his little inner voice who insisted he should stay, face any potential awkwardness, and finally end this frustrating state of incertitude.

He let his feet drop to the floor and sat up, retrieving his spectacles from the bedside table in the process. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him that Draco was still sound asleep, wrapped in covers like a cocoon. Waking up together had seemed perfectly natural last night; however, things looked a little different now, in broadening daylight. A picture flashed through his mind of Draco giving him one of those looks that were typically followed by sarcastic remarks, and he decided that he wasn't quite ready to deal with Slytherin snarks on an empty stomach. No, it would be better to put a nice hard run, a long hot shower and at least one cup of coffee between this moment and their breakfast together.

So much for Gryffindor courage, he thought, annoyed with himself, as he padded towards the bathroom across patches of light where the morning sun was reaching into the hall through windows and open doors. It promised to be another bright, sunny day.

He caught himself wishing for nasty, rainy weather so they could stay home, have a nice lazy breakfast, get comfortable in the living room afterwards and watch videos, drink tea, talk, read, curl up on the couch, take naps, and... And this train of thought had to end right there because he was getting hard again. He didn't want to walk out the door tenting his shorts, and he most definitely didn't want to bring himself off over... No, it was good that the sun was shining. That way, they could spend most of the day outside. Far away from the couch.

Or the armchair.

If only this ruddy inner voice would...

Or the bed.

...shut up!

Maybe it'll rain this afternoon.

He sighed.

Berlin-Charlottenburg, around 8:30 (London 7:30)

"'lo?"

"Harry? I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Hermione! No, you didn't wake me up. I just came back from jogging." - It had been another futile attempt to at least diminish the gap between his brain and his body. He could probably run the Berlin Marathon these days and be none the wiser afterwards. - "I was going to call you tonight."

"I wanted to check on you before I go to work. Are you feeling all right? No headaches or dizziness or anything unusual? Did you sleep well?"

Harry laughed. "Yes to the first question, no to the others, and yes, I slept very well. I'm okay, really. How are you?"

"Fine. A little tired, though. That was quite a shock yesterday."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly. It wasn't your fault. I'm only glad Malfoy had the presence of mind to call me. How is he?"

"Still out like a light. But it's not even half nine, so that's no surprise. We stayed up late yesterday night, talking. Which reminds me: do you know if it's, erm, normal to behave a little... strange after this sort of spell?"

"Strange?"

"Well, at first he seemed perfectly fine, but then he started acting almost as if he was drunk or something. You know... slurred speech, trouble standing up and walking straight, getting sort of, erm... cuddly..."

"Cuddly?"

He could almost hear her eyebrows shoot up. Just as she could probably feel the heat of his blush.

"Not cuddly cuddly. He leaned his head on my shoulder when I helped him to his room, that's all. It just didn't feel as if he was only tired. He was... different." He let out a frustrated breath. Hopefully, Hermione would make sense of it somehow.

"Harry, please, don't make me play twenty questions. It's exhausting and I haven't got much time this morning."

Apparently she couldn't.

"Sorry." He sighed. "The past couple of days he sort of... phased out a lot, as if his mind was wandering off somewhere. But yesterday night he seemed to be really present. I can't describe it better."

Hermione hm'd, then cleared her throat. "It's certainly not unusual to be a little off after such a spell, especially someone who's untrained. Did he say anything about what happened after he cast the spell? Before you woke up? "

"No, but I didn't ask him. I should have, but I wasn't thinking too straight after I first came to."

"Do you remember anything?"

Harry felt a strange sensation spread out from his stomach and his heart do its slowing-down-beating-really-loud-thing again. How odd that Hermione should ask about something he had only just remembered during his run!

"There was... something. I know it wasn't a memory, but I'm not sure that it was real, either." He swallowed. "He asked me not to... leave him. And he said that he... needed me."

After everything his friends had been through with him, there was really no reason for him to be embarrassed by making such a confession. Heck, Hermione had been there during the whole mess with Draco in seventh year! But still...

There was a long silence.

"Hermione?" he finally asked, a little uncertain.

"Hmm... Do you remember anything else?"

Well, there was the fact that they'd spent the night in the same bed, of course. - The strange sensation dropped a couple of inches and turned into a pool of heat, undulating lazily in the general vicinity of his tailbone. No need to mention that to Hermione unless he absolutely had to.

"He... when I helped him to his room, he said he was glad I was back. And that he'd been scared."

Hermione hm'd again.

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry. I can't be one hundred per cent sure, of course. I'm a Mental Maladies Specialist, not a Healer. But if you need a diagnosis, I'd say it sounds like exhaustion after extended use of difficult magic. He'll probably have a headache when he wakes up and he might not remember much of what happened yesterday night. If he remembers anything at all. Let him sleep it off and make sure he eats a good breakfast and he should be all right."

"I don't... I'm... Thank you, but I guess I need more than a diagnosis," Harry stuttered, then added hastily, "I mean, I'm glad it's just exhaustion. I was a little worried." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "But I was wondering if... Do you think he meant it?" There it was, out in the open, the question that had been plaguing him all morning. It made him feel better immediately.

A brief pause. Then, "Do you wish he'd meant it?"

Another silence.

"What if I said yes?" he asked very quietly.

He heard her take a deep breath and steeled himself for a lecture of sorts, but she only said, "I can't say I'd be surprised."

"Oh? Why not?" Now what kind of moronic question was that? Harry shook his head at himself. And was that a giggle he had just heard on the other end of the line?

"I had a feeling this might happen, ever since he rang me Saturday night, all indignant because you were, erm, living with a girlfriend."

"I told him Star's not that kind of girlfriend and- Wait a minute. He called you?"

"Of course he did, you fork!" - Yes, that was definitely a giggle. - "What did you expect? That he'd find you and not tell me?"

"Er..."

"Anyway, I had my suspicions about his motives from the moment he agreed to go see you without much ado. Oh, and letting me drag him around Muggle London and chew his ears off for two days was a bit of a giveaway, too. He didn't even make a fuss when I took him to Harrod's and told him he needed some less conspicuous outfits."

"I'm amazed you ever made it out of there," Harry said dryly. "I had to take him jeans shopping yesterday and I swear it took hours!"

"Oh, right, we didn't get around to the denims. Not enough time. Sorry," she said, sounding not the least bit sincere.

"No, you're not!" He couldn't help grinning.

"Got me there." For a moment, she sounded positively gleeful before returning to her usual practical manner. "So what are you going to do now?"

Harry felt the light mood dissipate. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "It's not like we are back together or anything..."

"Do you want to be, though?"

Harry bit his lip. Memories of the past few days started floating around in his mind, joined by images of the previous night.

"What if I said yes?"

It felt like stepping off the five meter diving platform at the public pool: terrifying, exhilarating, electrifying, and liberating all at once.

She hesitated audibly.

"I don't know what to say, Harry," she said after a few moments. "I want you to be happy, I really, really do. But if you two get together again... You realise it's not going to be easy, don't you? The papers are going to besiege both of you, wherever you go or wherever you live. There is not a whole lot in the Wizarding world for the Prophet to write about these days. You and Malfoy - that would be just what they're waiting for. You wouldn't have a moment's peace, neither one of you, no matter what you do or where you go."

"I know," he sighed, "I can't say I look forward to the media hype. Anything but, actually. But I'll deal with it. If I could shut up Sirius' mother, I'd do up Grimmauld Place and hide, er, stay there for a while." He snapped his fingers. "Hey, do you think painting Spellotape across her mouth might work?"

"Harry!"

He laughed. "Just an idea. But seriously, it's really too early to think about any of that." We haven't even kissed yet.

"It's never too early to be prepared." Good old Hermione!

"You're right. Maybe it would be easier to put a blanket over her head and fix it to the frame with a permanent sticking charm. Or a nailgun!"

"Honestly, Harry, you're impossible!" But she laughed with him and he felt a surge of affection for his old friend.

"Don't worry about me, Hermione. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"I just... Oh Harry, please make sure you both know what you're getting yourselves into. If you want to be together, I'll help you as much as I can. We all will. You know that, right? And so should Malfoy, unless he's a total dumbass."

"Hermione!"

He expected her to giggle at his feigned shock, but instead she cleared her throat and said, in a suddenly small voice, "Harry, I'm sorry, but I have to go to work and there is something I need to tell you before I go."

oOoOoOoOoOo

The kitchen clock showed Harry that twelve minutes had passed since Hermione's... revelation.

There is something I need to tell you.

It was amazing how much one's life could change in just twelve minutes.

Although, for some bizarre reason, he found a morbid hilarity in his situation, because here he was, six years after the Death Eater conflict, healthy and relatively happy with his life, and who but a Malfoy could change that within a matter of days? Of course his "flashback", as Hermione had called it, hadn't been Draco's fault. As a matter of fact, he'd been damn lucky that Draco had been there to help. It was just kind of... ironic that something like this should happen while he was here.

Draco... I need to talk to Draco.

There was no way around it. He'd have to tell him. The sooner the better. This morning, actually. But not right away. He didn't want to burden their first breakfast together with potentially alarming news. Especially after last night's stressful events. Besides, the gardens would be a more pleasant location for such a conversation. A few hours more or less would make no difference. And right now, the most important thing was to ensure that Draco would be all right.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco rolled onto his back - and wished immediately he hadn't moved. His head felt as if a Blast-Ended Skrewt was shooting off in his skull. He'd always thought that "to see stars" was merely a figure of speech, but it was a very accurate description of what was currently going on behind his eyelids.

Oh please no! he thought desperately as his stomach clenched. Saliva started flooding his mouth and he swallowed hard. He couldn't suppress a whimper. There was no way he would make it to the toilet if-

"Draco?"

Thank God! He would probably be embarrassed to look Harry in the face later, but right now it was an immense relief to know that he wasn't alone.

The mattress dipped beside him. He heard a soft, hissing noise and then Harry's hushed voice again.

"I know you have a headache. I brought you something to make you feel better. D'you think you can sit up?"

The mere thought of moving seemed to increase the pounding in Draco's head. All he could do was grit his teeth to keep his stomach from turning inside out.

"Wait, let me help you," Harry murmured. "Can you hold this?" Something cool touched the back of Draco's hand where it rested on his chest. He slowly moved his fingers and closed them around what must be a cup or glass.

He felt Harry move. Then his head was being lifted and he almost let go off the glass as blinding pain made him see stars again, but somehow he managed to bring his lips to the glass and drink its fizzling content. It tasted unpleasant - salty and bitter - but to his surprise, his stomach calmed down almost immediately.

Thank Merlin and all the gods!

"It's a double dose, but it will take a few minutes to work. Just lie still and try to relax. You should feel better soon."

Nodding was out of the question and his head hurt too much to be able to form coherent words, but he wanted to let Harry know that he was listening, so he made a small sound - and regretted it instantly when the vibration caused another bout of throbbing pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed a groan.

"See if you can get some more sleep," Harry said softly. "I'll check on you in a little while."

Yes, Mister Pomfrey, Draco thought. He didn't dare laugh but discovered that he could smile without aggravating his headache.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The next time he woke up, his head had cleared and there was no trace of nausea. As a matter of fact, his stomach demanded forcefully that he go find the source of an enticing smell his nose had just picked up.

Draco yawned and rubbed his eyes. He didn't want to leave the bed yet. It was nice and warm and smelled so familiar, and he was more comfortable than he had been in ages. Although, he felt well rested. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so soundly; or woken up hungry. Right on cue, his stomach grumbled again. Draco decided not to force the issue and got up.

He poked his head in the kitchen on his way back from the bathroom.

"Harry?"

The room was as empty as the rest of the flat, but the appetising smell was definitely coming from in here.

Draco was debating with himself whether the polite guest should wait until his host reappeared instead of simply delving into the pantry, so to speak, when the lock clicked and Harry stepped through the entrance door.

"Oh, you're up! Good! Feeling better?"

There was, Draco told himself sternly, really no reason for his pulse to speed up that much just because Harry smiled at him and asked how he felt and was looking at him like that. Especially this early in the morning!

"Much better. Thank you."

"Hungry?"

"Oh gods am I!" Draco practically groaned, then felt a little embarrassed by this heartfelt admission, but Harry laughed and pointed at the cooker. "Bacon and eggs are in the pan. Help yourself."

He opened the paper bag he had brought in and emptied it into a basket. "We have fresh rolls, too. I didn't know what kind you like, so I got one of each."

Draco blinked in astonishment. "That must be a dozen!"

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Very German. They're obsessed with bread. They basically live off the stuff. That and beer."

"Beer." Draco made a face. "It was a big thing in Prague, too, but I could never really get used to the taste." He placed knives and forks on the table, then opened the cupboard and took out two plates while Harry put on the kettle.

"D'you want tea or coffee? I'm afraid we don't have pumpkin juice."

"I've had enough pumpkin juice at school to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. What do you normally have with breakfast?"

"Coffee. Well, latte, actually."

"That would be what in English?"

"You'll see. Go ahead and start eating. I'll make coffee."

Draco inspected the bread basket. The rolls were definitely... interesting. Some were covered in what looked like the seeds Mother put out for the birds. They all smelled good, though. He randomly picked one and cut it open.

Harry gestured at the table. "Butter's in the covered dish over there. If you like jam, we have strawberry, raspberry, or apricot."

"Hmm... How about some of each?"

There was that smile again. Draco felt a tingle move down his spine and a memory drifted through his mind of Harry's body pressed against his back and their fingers firmly intertwined, resting against Draco's chest. He blinked. Where on earth had that come from?

"So you still have a sweet tooth," Harry observed and placed several jars in front of Draco, who made a noncommittal noise and took a cautious bite of his roll.

"This is good!"

"Glad you like it." Harry looked pleased. He had taken a glass pitcher off the shelf and was now fiddling with some Muggle contraption. Suddenly, a shrill whining filled the kitchen.

Draco dropped his fork.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?!"

"Sorry," Harry said and grinned a bit sheepishly, "that's the coffee grinder. I should have warned you."

Draco shook his head and retrieved his fork.

"Birdseed on rolls, machines that wail like banshees... Makes me wonder what's next! You have a lot of explaining to do, Potter."

Harry smirked. "You'll have to stay a lot longer, then, Malfoy."

Right then the kettle whistled and Harry turned his attention to whatever it was he had to do, which was a good thing because Draco couldn't think of any other response than "I'd love to". He decided to let it pass and opened one of the jars. Raspberry. Perfect! And it went unexpectedly well with birdseed.

They spent several minutes in comfortable silence while Draco ate and watched Harry move around the kitchen swiftly and efficiently, with those precise movements that Draco's mind still associated with seeing him on a broom. Three out of five, he thought wistfully. He'd missed their Seekers Games for the longest time. Still did, as a matter of fact.

"Do you miss flying?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Harry stilled for a moment before he nodded. "Sometimes. Not too often, though. It's not like there's an abundance of broomsticks around here to remind me. What about you? Do you still fly?"

"Occasionally. I try to keep up my Quidditch moves, but practising by myself is a little dull." That's putting it mildly! Depressing is more like it. Only then did it occur to him that the whole topic could be considered depressing and that it had probably been insensitive to bring it up. Well, too late now!

"God, I haven't played since Hogwarts! Quidditch is probably the only thing I miss about school," Harry said, "that and the food, actually." He didn't sound depressed. "When was the last time you played?"

"At the Academy. Every seminar had its own team. I was Chaser for Wardigo's Wyverns until I graduated." Draco smiled at the memory. "Vavrinec Wardigo was our Potions Master. He could be meaner than a Hungarian Horntail, hence the team name."

Harry chuckled. "You were on the mean team again?"

"Hah! If you think Slytherin was mean, be glad you never had to play against the Wyverns." Draco grinned.

"And here I always thought Slytherins were sly and ambitious, not mean."

Draco stared at him, then shook his head. "And here I thought Memory Charms were supposed to erase memories, not eliminate brain cells!"

He hadn't really meant anything by his remark, but Harry stopped smirking and suddenly looked... tense. "How come you didn't play Seeker?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "Someone else had a better broom." - Slender, boyish Marika, with her short black curls and big brown eyes. They'd nicknamed her Krumova, but Draco felt much more reminded of Harry when he watched her fly, all elegance and recklessness in the air...

"What? Your father sent you to some time-honoured Wizarding university without the latest Firebolt model?"

Now why did the git have to say that? Father had never, ever led to pleasant conversations between them. It was unavoidable that they should speak about him, but did it have to be over their first breakfast together?

"Father didn't want me to play Quidditch at all. Said I'd just drag out my studies if I did."

"And? Did you? Drag out your studies, I mean?"

Draco snorted. "Of course not, although I wasn't exactly eager to go back to England after everything that had happened."

Harry sat down across from him. "Coffee will be just a minute," he said and began picking through the contents of the bread basket, not looking at Draco.

"So what are you going to do after you get back?" he asked casually, buttering a roll, still avoiding Draco's gaze.

"Father said he'll need me when he gets out..." Draco shrugged.

"Does he? What for?"

"I'm not sure."

Harry frowned slightly. "He hasn't told you?"

Draco felt his stomach tighten and put his fork down. "Not exactly, no. He'll probably want me to take some things off our solicitor's back. The man has more than enough on his plate as it is."

Here we go! Come on, be a good little Gryffindor and tell me that I need to grow up and have a life of my own.

To his surprise, Harry remained silent and gazed out the window for a long moment, his eyes slightly unfocussed.

"It's hard," he finally said quietly, almost to himself, "you want to live up to people's expectations and at the same time you want to find out what you want for yourself - and then you feel bad when the two are different things." He blinked, returning his attention to Draco. "It must be even harder when those people are family. Especially an old one like yours. All those traditions and whatnot. Like hundreds of years of expectations piled on top of you."

It took Draco's brain several seconds to process this remark and assure him that he had heard right. He stared at his vis-à-vis, unsure what to make of this annoyingly even-tempered person.

"It has nothing to do with expectations and everything with money. My father might be in Azkaban, but unfortunately he is and will remain very much in control of the family vaults," he said tersely.

"I always thought you'd get into Potion Making. You know, develop new potions and stuff. Maybe have your own laboratory."

Draco scoffed. "I should be so lucky!"

"You don't think your father would want you to do that?" Harry looked genuinely puzzled. "Why let you study Potion Making then?"

Draco shrugged. "To get me out of England, I suppose."

Harry gave him a long, thoughtful look. "What d'you think he would say if you told him you wanted to start your own business?"

"And let me off the family hook? Not bloody likely."

And if this wasn't the perfect opportunity for Harry to remind him of the horrible things Lucius had done to his son and to tell him to show some backbone and crawl out from under Father's thumb, he didn't know what was!

But Harry only raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Strange. I always thought he'd want you to follow in his footsteps and be a businessman," was all he said before he attended to his bacon and eggs.

Draco stared at him, momentarily speechless. A rather large part of him bristled at the sight of Harry chewing heartily while his own stomach was a bundle of raw nerves for the third time in three days.

"What's happened to you? Taking the Muggle equivalent of a patience potion?" he finally sneered - and mentally kicked himself. He should really be above such immature jibes! What in Merlin's name was wrong with him all of a sudden?

And why did it make him feel even worse when Harry looked amused and said, "No, but it's amazing how much it puts you at ease when you no longer have to feel in mortal danger every waking moment of your life. I'm grateful for that. And that I have no obligations and can do as I please, regardless of what anybody else wants."

Draco scowled. He felt miserable but couldn't figure out why. "Well, good for you. Unfortunately, not everybody is as lucky as you, Potter."

"I know," Harry said quietly.

To Draco's relief, no spiteful answer fell out of his mouth this time - probably because he simply found himself at a loss for words at this... alien Harry -, and then something started beeping and interrupted the line of conversation.

Harry got up and returned with two pots which he tipped over a large mug, pouring coffee from one and from the other - hot milk? Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry who grinned and handed him the cup. "Latte," he said, filling his own mug, "or café au lait, as the French have it. Sugar?" He took the lid off a large bowl and let Draco help himself before he spooned a generous amount into his own cup.

oOoOoOoOoOo

They stirred and sipped quietly for a few moments, then Harry set his mug down with a slightly uncomfortable but determined look on his face and cleared his throat.

"I... didn't say thank you for last night," he said - and there it was again, the memory of Harry nestled against his back, only this time it was followed by another, more intimate one: Harry's arm wrapped around him, his head on Draco's shoulder, evidence of his arousal pressing into Draco's side...

What in all hells...?

Only Draco's deeply ingrained self-control enabled him to keep his jaw from dropping. He frowned and gave Harry the blankest look he could muster.

"You don't remember."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Remember what?" He didn't have to pretend to be confused.

"Finding me on the floor? Sort of, erm, unconscious? Talking to Hermione? The Venanimus spell?"

"What are you..." And then Draco's jaw did drop as last night's events came rushing back at him from wherever they had spent the last couple of hours, the onset of another migraine hard on their heels.

Closing his eyes didn't do anything to stop the jumble of images, just as rubbing his temples did nothing against the faint throbbing in his head.

"Are you all right? D'you need another Alka-Seltzer?" Harry sounded worried, but Draco didn't have the energy to tell him off for turning Granger on him.

"A what?"

"The stuff I gave you this morning. Muggle hangover potion."

He kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply, trying to think about something else, because the expectation of pain and stars and nausea would bring them on all the faster. Unfortunately, the only thing that came to mind was the question what Harry remembered of the previous night...

"I'm not hung over."

...and why he'd left before Draco had woken up!

"True. You just drained your magic with that spell. At least that's what Hermione said."

Magic drain - that certainly made sense. It explained the headache this morning and the fact that he hadn't remembered anything about last night until the sudden rush of memories just now - and no, he would not blush at some of them!

"She rang earlier, before she went to work," Harry continued, his voice coming from the direction of the sink. "She said you'd wake up with a headache and not remember much."

Draco heard water run, then some rustling noises and a faint "plop", followed by the soft hissing he remembered from earlier this morning. He cautiously lifted an eyelid to see a glass filled with a milky-looking, fizzying liquid float into view.

"Here you are. Bottoms up!"

"Thank you."

He took the glass and drained it. It tasted even more unpleasant than the first time. Apparently, Muggle potion makers were just as inconsiderate as their wizard counterparts when it came to the taste of their remedies.

"So Granger phoned, huh? Mother Hen checking on her chicks?"

"Don't tell me you're surprised!" Harry laughed. "She won't have time for mothering us any longer once she has her baby, though. Let's enjoy the old Hermione as long as we have her."

"Us" and "we"? Draco felt something warm spread out from the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah. Right. Let's. My guess is that she'll get worse. I bet you ten galleons she's going to turn from Mother Hen into Mother Goose next."

They grinned at each other and Draco's heart sped up again because it felt so good to be with Harry like this; and if a chat at the breakfast table had such an effect on his pulse, he'd probably have a heart attack the first time they touched or kissed... God, how he wanted to kiss Harry. And if the git hadn't been such a coward and sneaked out of his bed, they'd probably have done it by now!

He picked up his half-eaten roll and took a bite to redirect his thoughts to more... pressing matters, such as, "What are we going to do today, Mr. Tour Guide?"

"Get loads of fresh air."

"Where?"

"That's a surprise. Eat up. Hermione is going to pull me through the wire tonight if I can't report that you've slept like a log and eaten like a horse."

"Beg your pardon?"

There was that smile again!

"Mother Hen's remedy for magic drain: let him sleep it off and feed him a good breakfast. The headache potion was my idea, though."

"I figured as much. No caring soul would have their unsuspecting patient imbibe something so vile. What were you trying to do? Shock me into well-being?"

Harry smirked. "Brilliant, isn't it? The nastier the medicine, the more you want to get better - and as quickly as possible. I'm not as good at it as Aunt Petunia, though. She practically developed it into an art form when Dudley and I were little."

Draco searched his face for a moment but found no bitterness at the mention of his relatives, just amusement. He shook his head and resumed eating. Savages!

"Old hag!" he muttered under his breath, pleased when he heard Harry chuckle.

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