Found, Never Lost

Chapter 15: Picking Up - Part 3

The howling of Star's industrial-strength hair-dryer had followed him into the kitchen, where he was currently looking at the inside of a cupboard with only the vaguest idea why he had opened it.

Junge Erbsen. Babykarotten. Grüne Bohnen.

Why was he staring at an assortment of canned vegetables?

Harry closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose to clear his mind, but it took a pitiful gurgle from his stomach to remind him that he had come in here to prepare lunch while Draco was drying his hair.

Lunch.

He slammed the cupboard shut and opened the refrigerator.

Right.

Now what were they going to eat? ...

"I wish I could use a bloody Drying Charm."

Draco scowled at his appearance in the mirror as he tried to pull a comb through his hair, which was sticking up in all directions after towelling.

Harry's own reflection appeared behind Draco's, giving him a puzzled look

"Why can't you?"

"Granger's law." A shrug and a frown. "Don't forget, Malfoy: no use of magic in the Muggle world unless it is an emergency!" Harry smiled. The voice didn't match, but Draco's face was an almost spitting image of Hermione's when she was in lecture mode. "The alliteration must have been an accident, though. That woman has no sense of humour. Never had, never will."

I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane...

"Beg pardon?"

"Huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

Harry blinked. "Did I say something?"

Mirror-Draco shot him an odd look.

"Oh, that..." He retrieved Star's hair-dryer from the top of her shelf. "Trelawney said that to Hermione once. That she had a hopelessly mundane mind."

Draco was grinning at him when he turned back around. "That's better than being called an insufferable know-it-all."

Harry inserted the plug.

"Marginally," he said before he pushed the dryer into Draco's hand and flipped the switch, drowning out the conversation before it could begin...

This time, a stab of nausea accompanied the growl of his stomach. The unpleasant sensation brought him back into a present in which he was staring into the refrigerator - and needed to squeeze the bridge of his nose again because he still couldn't concentrate on what they were going to eat. The only thing on his mind seemed to be memories of him and Draco in the shower, kissing, tongues sliding against one another's, hands roaming, caressing, gripping, the sound of water, of bodies sliding, the smell of steam and soap and sex...

Stop it!

How would it be to face Draco after their... shower? Would things be different? Surely they couldn't be the same, could they? What were they going to talk about now? Where was this headed except into the bedroom? Sure, they'd go to London together and Draco had said he wanted to come back to Berlin with him afterwards - but then what? What was this? A one-week stand? No. Strike that. They didn't even have a whole week. What did Draco want from him? And suddenly he felt as if someone had emptied the proverbial bucket of icewater over his head: What if all this was just a ruse, cooked up by a devious Slytherin mind to...

"Are you trying to cool the kitchen or are you looking for food?"

With a thud, the back of Harry's head hit the inside of the refrigerator.

The silence should have warned him that Draco was done drying his hair and on his way to the kitchen.

It hadn't.

"Fuck!"

Rubbing his head, he turned to find Draco leaning against the door frame, barefoot, in pyjama bottoms and a tee-shirt, shielding his eyes against a sunbeam that had chosen this moment to peek through the clouds and right into his face, making his hair shine like a halo.

He looked... Inexplicably, he didn't look any different than when Harry had left the bathroom. How could Draco look the same when he, Harry, felt as if they were about to turn each other's lives inside out?

That's probably overdramatising it a bit.

There was that expression on Draco's face again, the one he liked so much: his face relaxed and alive, eyes shining, lips soft...

"Everything all right?"

Harry tried to swallow, but his throat was uncomfortably dry. He watched Draco push himself off the door frame to step into the kitchen, and his heart suddenly beat very articulately.

No, he wasn't overdramatising. Inside-out sounded pretty bloody accurate, considering what was going on in his head at the moment.

"Are we going to have lunch or what?"

A mental image floated through his mind of grabbing Draco and dragging him across the hall into his room - bedroom - since Draco was in pyjamas anyway - and he was wearing only jeans and no shirt himself-

"Harry?"

He realised he had been staring at Draco and felt like an idiot. Probably looked like one, too, standing in front of the open refrigerator like this, hanging on to its door, but then he found himself with his arms full of Draco in the middle of a kiss that knocked his specs askew, and the fridge whooshed shut behind him.

For the briefest moment he wondered when Draco had become so direct. In the past, he had preferred subtler ways of getting what he wanted... although the way he'd initiated their second round in the shower had been rather bold. Harry felt his face heat up and his jeans grow tight at the memory of Draco backing him up against the wall, touching him everywhere, slowly but without hesitation...

He sighed and smiled when Draco made a similar appreciative noise. This was so different from the urgency they'd both felt earlier. Arms slung loosely around each other, they kissed gently, lips caressing, tongues touching slowly, almost shyly. There was a sense of tenderness and sincerety, and one by one, the questions in his head went still. Maybe answers weren't important. Or maybe this was the answer? He straightened up until their bodies were pressed together from chest to groin and he felt Draco's fingertips trail up and down his back - his naked back, as his little inner voice reminded him.

Naked back.

There was an idea...

He was just about to slip his hands under Draco's shirt when his stomach emitted a particularly loud grumble, followed by a hunger pang that was too strong to ignore. He let go of Draco and stuck his head back into the refrigerator, turning his back on Draco's remarks about the bottomlessness of his stomach.

"Shut up, Draco. What d'you want for lunch? We have leftover curry. And plenty of rolls."

Apparently, his stomach had ears, because it gurgled plaintively at the mention of food. Another wave of queasiness followed. No time to reheat the curry! He snatched a glass of yoghurt from the bottom shelf. A banana would be more sustaining, but he had a feeling eating that particular fruit in front of Draco might send a message he wasn't prepared to follow up on yet. That would have to wait. Right now, he needed something to eat. Where was the damn spoon?

He sighed with relief when the first mouthful of the creamy treat reached his aching insides. Several spoonfuls later, he almost felt like a human being again. With a contented hum, he licked the spoon clean. Vanilla yoghurt - now that was a food he would miss...

"Hitting the spot there, Potter?"

With a start, he opened his eyes - Why had he closed them? - and spotted Draco next to the cooker - What was he doing over there? -, grinning at him. - Why was Draco grinning at him from next to the cooker? - He blinked, then noticed that he still had the spoon in his mouth and removed it quickly. Christ! It clinked to the bottom of the glass.

"Sorry," he muttered, feeling foolish.

"No problem. I thought I'd heat up the curry while you're stuffing your face with-"

Draco tilted his head, squinting at the glass in Harry's hand.

"- some as of yet unidentified white substance that needs - how do Muggles call it? Refresheration?"

He shook his head. "I'll never understand why they have to make everything so complicated."

Harry had to laugh. "Sorry," he repeated. "I just have to eat when I get hungry like that."

"It's all right."

Draco push-turned the knob as if he'd operated a Muggle gas cooker all his life. A memory flashed through Harry's mind of Draco's first visit on Saturday and how unreal it had seemed that Draco was really there, in his kitchen, leaning over Star's stew with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Ten points from Gryffindor...

Harry smiled and silenced the little inner voice who reminded him that things could - and would - change as of tomorrow.

"Want to try?"

"Try what?"

"This." He placed the glass on the countertop and brought the spoon back up, waggling it in Draco's direction. "Vanilla yoghurt."

He grinned at Draco's dubious expression.

"You've never had vanilla yoghurt?"

"I don't normally eat Muggle food, Potter."

Harry decided to let the remark pass and stepped next to him.

"You'll like it. It's sweet."

Draco's gaze followed the spoon to his mouth, then went wide when he brought it back out empty and leaned in, swallowing. He watched Draco's eyes disappear behind long lashes and slowly flutter shut in anticipation. It was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen and he barely heard the spoon clatter to the floor. Without thinking, he slid his hands under Draco's shirt and pulled him close, their kiss heating up instantly. God, how could he ever get enough of this? Of Draco's mouth, his skin, his hands? How could the gentle swipe of Draco's tongue along the inside of his upper lip cause such a reaction? And so soon? It was almost embarrassing, all things considered, and maybe Draco was thinking along similar lines, because their kiss suddenly became rather toothy.

"Stop grinning!" Harry said - or meant to say. What came out sounded more like "Fopp mimming" and made Draco grin even wider for a moment - right before he yanked his mouth off Harry's with a strangled noise and performed a series of very strange, open-mouthed exercises.

Harry looked on in bewilderment as Draco, eyes squeezed shut, clamped both hands around his cheeks and dug his thumbs underneath his jaw. Apparently it helped, judging from the way the pained expression melted off his face.

"All right there?" Harry asked cautiously when whatever had afflicted Draco seemed to be over. "What's the matter?"

Draco muttered something unintelligible and turned abruptly back to the pot.

"Huh?"

"Cramp."

"Cramp?"

"Never had a cramp in your tongue?"

Fortunately, the ten seconds it took Harry to pick up his spoon were enough to get his face under control.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"How about this one?" Harry asked, holding up a book with a fat red apple on the cover, grinning.

Not for the first time, Draco wished he'd kept his mouth shut when Harry had asked him what he wanted to do after lunch. Or told him what he really wanted to do. Instead, he had wondered aloud if maybe they ought to buy a gift for Hermione, a thank you of sorts, for all her help.

Some forty minutes later, he had found himself in front of a building with an enormous glass façade and the word H-u-g-e-n-d-u-b-e-l spelled across its second floor windows in giant letters. Draco had no idea what that meant or how to pronounce it, and Harry's "hoogendouble" didn't provide much enlightenment either. Once they'd stepped through a set of intimidating quadruple glass doors, however, it quickly became obvious that this was the Muggle equivalent of Flourish & Blotts, only much, much bigger - which didn't surprise Draco in the least. Muggles had a weakness for the ridiculously oversized.

There was a whole section of books in English, which, to Draco's relief, was not frequented by too many Muggles. The masses still made him uneasy, although he was rather proud that he no longer felt the urge to grab Harry's sleeve every time they were boarding the underground.

"Sex for the Seasoned Woman? She's going to hex you into next week." He reached past Harry to pick up a different volume. "Why not give her something useful? Like this."

"Outsmarting the Female Fat Cell After Pregnancy." Harry laughed. "That's asking for an Unforgivable! Weren't you the one who said the woman has no sense of humour?"

"I did, Mr. Sex for the Seasoned Woman. Maybe we should just get her a box of chocolates."

"You're no fun."

"All right, all right. This one then. It's perfect for her."

"The Worry Cure?" Harry took it from him and flipped through it before placing it back on the table, shaking his head. "At least with the first she would have fun."

Draco rolled his eyes. "If we keep this up, we'll be here for the rest of the afternoon and I'd much rather do something else."

"Like what? Get a cup of coffee?"

"Brilliant feat of imagination, Potter."

"Maybe we should just ask someone for help. - Excuse me, miss?"

The sales clerk, a pretty brunette, was short enough to have to look up at Harry - which she did, repeatedly, while she steered him towards a different display table and began to point out books.

Draco watched their exchange, amused, wondering if Harry had any clue why the girl was so enthusiastic and if she would still be sending him such telling glances if she knew how Harry had spent the morning. The thought made his pulse speed up and his stomach do cartwheels. He hastily reached for the nearest book before memories of their activities could cause more pronounced physical reactions. However, one glance inside the cover and he put it down as quickly as he had picked it up. This was definitely not the right thing to get his mind off that particular subject!

A glance in Harry's direction showed that he was still being chatted up by the little brunette - not unsuccessfully, it seemed, as he had several books piled on his arm. Judging from the attentive expression on his face, he didn't seem to mind. Draco was about to turn around and look for a more effective distraction when Harry turned his head and sent him what could be interpreted as a "Help me!" look.

He grinned and picked the book back up. This would be interesting.

"Did you find something?" Harry asked, sounding relieved when Draco stepped next to him.

"Oh yes. Something educational."

He sent a charming smile in the girl's direction and pushed the book into Harry's hand.

Harry's eyes widened when he looked at the cover, but Draco had to hand it to the man: he really had learned how to keep a grip on himself when necessary. He didn't bat an eyelid when he turned a few pages, then snapped the book shut.

"We'll take it."

He tucked The Gay Kama Sutra under his arm and sent a polite "thank you" after the retreating sales clerk.

"Ready for a cup of coffee? They have good latte here."

"No, thank you." Draco squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm getting a headache again."

Harry mumbled something only half-audible.

"Speak English, Potter. What's a 'toomer'?"

"Nothing. Just a quote from a film. We can watch it when we're back home, if you like."

"Fine. What are we waiting for? Let's go."

"We still need something for Hermione."

"Well, we better hurry. It's getting pretty dark out there."

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Didn't I tell you it was getting dark?"

"Yeah, yeah. Stop complaining. It's just a shower."

"A shower? This is a downpour! And you obviously failed to notice that it's thundering and lightning."

"So it's a little thunderstorm. Big deal. If you quit whinging you could take deeper breaths, then we could walk faster and make it home sooner."

"Have I mentioned that you are bonkers to live without magic?"

"Not these past five minutes. I think we better run."

"This is absurd! We would be home in an instant if we could Apparate."

"Well, we can't, so stop complaining. Besides, it's only a little further."

Draco grumbled something that Harry was sure was an ancient Malfoy curse.

"Look at the bright side, though-"

"Only you could find anything remotely bright in getting soaked."

"We get to take another shower."

"Oh wonderful. Then I'll have to use that infernal dry-blower again."

"Shut up and run!"

oOoOoOoOoOo

"I'm still wondering why Hermione asked you not to use magic." Harry moved as far back as possible on the bed to make room for Draco. "You wouldn't do something as stupid as whipping out your wand in public. No pun intended."

"And here I thought you had a sense of humour." Draco slipped under the cover next to him. "Maybe she was afraid I would hex the next Muggle who looked at me funny. Or you." He shifted around a bit. "Move over!"

"Can't. I'm already at the wall," Harry mumbled into his shoulder. "Maybe she's just overcautious."

"Maybe? She booked my hotel room under Daniel Black, if you can imagine that."

"I'm not really surprised. Didn't they ask you for a passport, though?"

"What makes you think I don't have one? Oy!"

"Sorry. You do? How did you get one so quickly?"

"It's not a real one, of course, just a little book with empty pages, charmed to show Muggles what they expect to see. When I tell them my name is Daniel Black, that's what it shows. Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry! But didn't they run it through the reader at the airport?"

"They did, but naturally it didn't work. They decided there must be something wrong with the, what do they call it? Muggeltick strip?"

"Magnetic strip."

"Right. Wait, let's try this. I'll put my arm here and you put yours there."

"She really outdid herself on this one, didn't she?"

Draco nodded. "She is a talented witch, no doubt about that."

"And more of a rulebreaker than she'll ever admit, even to herself."

"She just has no sense of humour."

"Maybe she thought someone might try to track you down."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hermione. Maybe she told you not to use magic because she was worried someone could follow you here."

"Who would want to follow me and what has doing magic got to do with it?"

"There is a way to detect the use of magic. How else would the Ministry be able to find out when underage wizards do magic outside of Hogwarts?"

Draco hmm'd thoughtfully. "There are tracking spells, but as far as I know, they must be cast directly on a person or an object to work."

"How about wards? Could an area be warded to set off an alarm when magic is used within a certain radius?"

"Probably." Draco yawned. "I doubt such wards exist for a whole city. But even if they did, there is no Wizarding community here, so there is no need to check for magic."

"Are you sure no wizards have ever lived here? Maybe they're old wards."

"Even if there were old wards on this place, the question remains: Who would be watching?"

"I don't know, but Hermione obviously thought somebody might."

"Merlin, Harry, you're beginning to sound like Granger! Why are you getting so worked up over this all of a sudden? We both have done magic these past few days and nothing has happened, nor has anybody shown up, so can we agree that this place is not under observation and I'm not being followed?"

"I guess you're right." Harry shrugged. "I was just wondering why Hermione was so adamant about it, that's all."

"It's a little late to be concerned about that. You should have thought of that before you Apparated us both back here this morning. Wandless magic is powerful."

"So is the Venanimus spell. And, erm, I didn't Apparate us."

"Don't be daft. I certainly didn't, so it must have been you."

"Well, I did, I guess, in a way. Not on purpose, though."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I, well, er, this used to happen when Dudley and his friends were after me, in school. They'd chase me and suddenly I'd be somewhere safe, on top of the school roof one time. Caused quite a stir, that one."

"How would that explain what happened this morning?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was wishful thinking."

"You're giving me another headache. What does wishful thinking have to do with a rooftop?"

"Who's being daft now? I... In the park, when... I was uncomfortable and I wanted to be back home. This isn't working."

"You're right. It's not."

"What? Where are you going? What are you doing?"

"I am not going to spend another uncomfortable night with you in this bed. Granger's Law be damned. Engorgio! Here, that's better."

"Much better. Thanks. Why didn't you do that the other night?"

"Because I couldn't reach my wand."

"Right. Your wand. - Are you sure you want to take a nap?"

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then what are we doing in bed?"

"Hmmm... Let me think about that..."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Harry carefully disentangled himself from Draco and turned onto his side. Pressing his back against the solid warmth of Draco's body, he stared into the dark.

How would it be to do magic again?

To light candles with a flick of his wrist and a swish of his wand.

To live without television, computer, electricity, washing machine, refrigerator, or toaster. No more hectic masses, no more traffic and noise and dirt. No more machines.

To Firetalk instead of using a telephone.

To Floo or Apparate. - No more undergrounds, buses, taxicabs, cars or motorcycles - except maybe Sirius' enchanted Harley. He wondered how that machine worked and if Draco would like to drive-fly with him.

To fly. Oh, to fly again! If he could still do it. What if his Firebolt no longer jumped into his outstretched hand without the need to even say "up"?

He had become so used to living in this world - he actually enjoyed it for the most part. How would it be to go back to the simple life of the Wizarding world? Did he want to? Did he have to? Who said he had to live in a Wizarding community? Yes, he liked the prep-school idea, and yes, Grimmauld Place would be convenient - if he could ever get rid of Sirius' mother -, but did he have to use it? No! He could live wherever he damn well pleased and do what the hell he wanted to. They could. If Draco wanted to.

With a silent sigh, he closed his eyes and turned back around to tuck his head into Draco's shoulder. Just like in school, he thought, smiling, drifting off to the scent of Draco's skin, the sound of his breathing, and the feel of his heartbeat's slow, steady rhythm under his palm.

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