Silent Itch

Harry sits on the edge of his bed, a vial filled with a reddish liquid in one hand, a wine glass in the other. Draco lies in his usual post coital stupor behind him, staring in an almost cat like satisfied way at the corner nearest the door. There isn't a thing to look at, except perhaps the cobwebs. The room is painted a uniform grey, like every other room in the apartment complex on Maethoodik Alley, the new developing area that Percy Weasley started. Some place, Percy is sitting behind a desk, signing papers and balancing books before heading off to work at the Ministry.

But we are not here to talk about Percy and his workaholic tendencies, nor to discuss whether the development is having a good effect on his relationship with Penelope (because, of course, it isn't). We are here to see Harry, so our focus readjusts appropriately. He looks like any other 25-year-old at the moment, except for the look on his face, telling us immediately that something is amiss. He glances over his shoulder a few times, then uncorks the vial, and tips it into the wine glass. He mutters a bit, and then sets it on the far bedside table. He adds some Strawberry Tapper wine to it before returning to his own side of the bed.

Soon enough, Draco stirs. Stretching out, he yawns and scratches the back of his head absently.

"You aren't going again, are you?" Harry's face looked rather downcast. Like every morning like this.

Draco smiles slightly, and then stands. "Yes. You know I only come here because you're a damn good lay. Besides, it's not like this is any thing more then a good fuck, you know? Get yourself dressed and shower. Your hair is a bloody mess."

"Yeah, fine. I bought some wine from Mrs. Codlovir down stairs, and figured you'd be able to tell me whether to buy from her again. There's a glass next to your side."

"Actually, it wouldn't be my side, Potter. Both sides would be your sides, because you own the bed. However, I can't say no to a fairly good smelling glass of wine, especially one that smells like it's a Strawberry Tapper brew." Draco picks up his glass, swirls it around a bit, and takes a sip.

"A fairly good brew of Strawberry Tapper. Has some thing else in here too. Not sure what it is, but it does give it an extra punch." He continues rambling on in this vein while he takes sip after sip. ". . .And of course, there is the old way, with- damn it. I feel a bit dizzy. Ack, I'm laying back down."

The glass is set back down on the table, and a smile creeps softly over Harry's features as he watches Draco slip off to sleep.

Draco will wake up again, and he will look passively about, disoriented. He will frown, for this surely must be a dream. He will think that he doesn't live in Potter's apartment. He does not want to live in Potter's apartment.

But lying on his back gazing around, it will feel right. He will think that he could stay for a bit. And he will think that maybe there was some thing to that relationship bit Harry'd been talking about for the last couple months, after all.

~Fin~