Summer Rain

Chapter 7

Harry apparated directly into Draco's hotel room after getting the room number and address from him. Once Harry got his bearings, he was startled by just how big the room was. It was obviously one of the more expensive suites on offer, and also obviously meant for more than one guest. The room was decked out in all black and white, which made the space look even more open. Harry's apartment would fit into this room four times over.

Harry looked around and took in the large king size bed in the middle of the room and had a hard time imaging Draco curled up asleep alone on such a large mattress. It must get so cold in such a huge bed with no one to - Harry started thinking but cut his thoughts off. Harry shook himself to clear his head with brief thoughts of why Draco would stay in such a large, sterile room alone for so long. He was more certain now that he did the right thing in asking Draco to stay with him.

Harry would be the first to admit the room was decadent and worthy of someone of Draco's status and wealth, but why would someone choose to inhabit such a large space alone? If it was Harry staying in a hotel room by himself, he would be inclined to choose a smaller, cosier room that wouldn't remind him of just how alone he was.

Suddenly Harry was overcome by a rather erotic vision of himself naked, sweaty and pounding an equally naked, sweaty Draco into the mattress of the huge bed before him and he gasped audibly. After a few shocked moments of contemplation over his passionate thoughts, Harry burst out laughing before he could stop himself.

"Bloody hell," Harry murmured to himself. "I'm so screwed up." Harry quickly glanced around the room to locate Draco's belongings. Besides a book and glasses case on the bedside table, nothing else was in view.

Wait, Harry thought to himself. Glasses case? I must've apparated into the wrong room! Harry stepped over to the bedside table and picked up the case and snapped it open. Inside was a pair of reading glasses with thin, silver frames. On closer inspection, Harry saw they were Armani frames, and the case also had Draco's name engraved on the underside with a phone number which was obviously not British.

Harry took the delicate glasses and slipped them onto his nose. His vision swam as the lenses interacted with his own contact lenses already in his eyes, making Harry feel dizzy. Harry folded the glasses back up and placed them gently in the case, wondering how long Draco had worn reading glasses. He tried to picture the fashionable frames on Draco's face, and smiled at the image.

Harry placed the book under his arms and put the glasses case in his pocket and went searching for Draco's luggage. He found a Louis Vuitton suitcase in the wardrobe filled with clothes and other personal items, and a few of Draco's shirts and trousers hanging in the wardrobe above the suitcase.

After a thorough search of the rest of the hotel room, locating only a few more toiletries and another book in the bathroom (allowing himself to giggle at the fact that Draco read on the toilet), Harry was baffled by the lack of personal effects Draco appeared to have brought from Australia with him. Draco had said he had come back permanently, yet his luggage was really only enough to indicate a traveller on a week-long holiday.

Draco had told Harry to just get what he thought he might need for his stay with Harry. After contemplating the luggage in front of him, Harry just decided to pack everything in the suitcase and take the lot. He gently placed the glasses on top of the clothes and zipped up the suitcase. With a brief shrug, Harry grabbed the bag and apparated back home.

o o o o o

The wards Harry had around his apartment prevented him from apparating right inside it, so he unlocked his front door with his key and carried the suitcase inside and placed it on the floor by the bedroom door.

Hermione was sitting in his living room flicking through a magazine. "How did you go?" she asked and closed the magazine in her lap.

"Ah, fine, I think," Harry replied with a shrug. "He didn't have much stuff, so I brought it all."

"I though you said he was coming back for good?" Hermione said with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"He did. I'll ask him about it later. Where is he?" Harry pulled his wallet and keys from his pocket and tossed them onto the coffee table.

"He went back to bed. He felt sick and threw up after his bath, so I told him it was probably best he went back to bed. Melody was down with a similar flu a couple of weeks back, and she was miserable and just wanted to sleep all the time. I suspect it might be the same with Draco. I stuck my head in about fifteen minutes ago to check on him and he was fast asleep," Hermione explained and Harry nodded.

"Yeah, it's going around. Our ward was full of kids with the flu about two weeks ago. Though, generally sick people aren't stupid enough to sit in the rain all day." Harry grimaced.

"That day you told me about when he sat in Diagon Alley was actually when he was sick?" Hermione asked incredulously. "I wouldn't think Draco would be one to do something so stupid."

"Me either, but he must have wanted to find me pretty badly..." Harry trailed off. "I need to go to Lucas's. Are you sure you're ok to stay here until I get back?"

"Yes, it's really not a problem. I'm enjoying the peace to be truthful." Hermione smiled. Harry nodded distractedly, taking a long shaky breath and biting thumb nail. After a moment of standing and staring into space, Harry flopped into the chair next to Hermione.

"Did he say anything to you while I was gone?" Harry asked.

"Nothing of importance." Hermione shrugged. "Did you expect him to?"

"No, I just don't know what's going through his mind. I used to be able to read him so well. I know he's being honest with me, but I wish I knew exactly what he's feeling... I feel like a coffee, do you want one?" Harry was tapping his fingers on the table top and Hermione placed her hand over his to stop him fidgeting.

"Harry, you're stalling. You can't put this off," Hermione told him gently.

"I know, and I'm not stalling," Harry mumbled, "I'm just..."

"Hesitating?" Hermione offered. "Is it because you're still not certain about Draco?"

"Fuck no!" Harry insisted. "Draco's the only thing I am certain about. I've just never had to do this before."

"And you think stalling half an hour by having coffee will make it easier?" Hermione prodded and Harry exhaled sharply.

"No," Harry answered in a tiny voice.

"Come one, honey, you've never been one to cower away from anything," Hermione encouraged him. "Voldemort, Basilisks, dragons... should I continue? If Draco was here he'd be making some comment about idiotic Gryffindor bravery by now."

"None of those things have loved me and cared for me for a year and half," Harry pointed out miserably.

"No, but you aren't a coward, Harry, and that's my point," Hermione reached over and gave him a brief hug. Harry stood up shakily.

"I need to go. If Draco wakes, can you give him some more cough medicine and cold and flu pills? They're on the bench by the sink. I don't know how well they are working, but they can't do any harm." Harry shoved his wallet and keys back into his jeans pocket. "And make sure he drinks. There's lemonade in the fridge."

"Harry, you're shaking like a leaf. Try and calm down a little or you'll make yourself sick," Hermione scolded gently.

"I'm fine," Harry muttered. "Draco's things are all in that suitcase if he needs anything. He'll probably want to change into his own pyjamas. Remember not to tell him where I've gone or why." Harry waved briefly at Hermione and left again.

o o o o o

Harry apparated into the alley behind the apartment block where Lucas lived. He leant over and braced himself against the wall before sticking his fingers down his throat and forcing himself to vomit.

Since Voldemort's defeat, Harry had become prone to the occasional panic attack when he found himself in a situation beyond his immediate control. The final battle had taken a lot out of everyone, but where Harry emerged practically unscathed physically, his emotional state suffered and the panic attacks were the result of this. An attack would usually just cause him hyperventilate, but sometimes when he was particularly emotional, he could become nauseous and end up vomiting.

From experience, Harry found that when he could feel himself on the edge of a panic attack by the sick feeling in his stomach, if he made himself vomit it could stave off the attack. He didn't know why and rarely resorted to such action, but he felt that right now, it wouldn't do to turn up on Lucas's doorstep hyperventilating and puking. Lucas, being well aware of Harry's panic attacks, would know immediately that something was very wrong and Harry just knew he would back down and not be able to go through with it if he didn't keep himself focused.

During this, Harry remembered that he hadn't eaten breakfast and therefore didn't have much in his stomach to bring up. He pulled himself up, coughing and choking slightly and wiped his watery eyes on the back of his hand. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and wiped his mouth and unwrapped a piece of chewing gum and popped it in his mouth.

Harry leant against the wall to get his breath back and waited a few minutes until the flush across his face that was likely present subsided. He could feel himself calming down already.

Once Harry felt he would be presentable enough to face Lucas, he went inside and slogged his way up the building's staircase. Lucas's apartment was in a refurbished Victorian mansion that had been transformed into four small apartments. They weren't to Harry's taste, as he preferred more modern things, but Lucas adored the history of the building, having come from Australia which had very little history compared to Britain.

Halfway up the stairs, Harry could feel his mobile phone vibrating in his pocket. It was a small phone and he almost forgot he was carrying it, and had obviously forgotten to turn up the volume. He turned it down frequently because it had a cheesy James Bond ring-tone that Ron had set in it and deleted all his others as a joke. Harry had never been bothered to change it.

Harry dug the phone from his jeans and pushed the button to answer it. "Hello?" Harry answered, expecting it to be Lucas demanding to know where he was.

"Harry? It's Draco," Draco croaked down the phone.

"Oh, hello!" Harry said, surprised.

"Sorry to bother you while you're out running some errands. Hermione gave me your mobile number. I was just wondering if you could pick me up some cough drops for my throat? It's really sore." Harry could hear Draco cover the receiver while he coughed.

"Sure, no problem. Is that all you need?"

"Um, yes," Draco answered. "Are you ok? You sound a bit anxious," Draco asked.

"I'm fine, Draco. Don't worry about me. Just get plenty of rest. I'll be home before you know it," Harry tried to sound reassuring, but he knew his voice probably sounded odd. It always did when he was worried. "How are you feeling?"

"Not great, but it's nice having Hermione's company. She's ordered me to rest on the couch, so we're going to watch a movie together," Draco said.

"Well, don't let her talk you into 'Romeo and Juliet' or 'Titantic'. She's a sucker for Leonardo DiCaprio and always bawls her eyes out at the end of those films." Harry snorted and Draco chuckled softly.

"There's nothing wrong with Leo, Harry. He has a nice arse," Draco retorted, "but it's got nothing on yours." Harry almost choked and coughed sharply.

"Um, yes, well, I'd better go," Harry said hastily.

"Sure, babe, I'll see you when you get back. Have fun." Draco ended the call.

"Oh, joyous fucking fun, I'm sure," Harry muttered to himself as he approached Lucas's door. He knocked softly. Lucas answered within moments, almost as if he was waiting behind the door for Harry's arrival. "Luke, we need to talk," Harry said bluntly.