Stay With Me

Chapter 7

"Of course. That woman taught me everything about cooking, Ron was sick of me after I'd spent six weeks straight at their house not long after we left Hogwarts."

Draco smiled half-heartedly and turned to look out of the window at the swaying trees dimming in the evening sun. Harry furrowed his brow at Draco's reluctance to speak, "Everything alright?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Draco's gaze met Harry's but his head remained facing the window, "I'm said I'm fine."

"Right, sorry," Harry said, returning to the stove whilst Draco closed his eyes, gulping back a wave of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him.

Harry continued with the cooking, pan-frying the meat and vegetables and stirring the sauce before throwing it all into a ceramic dish and covering it with pastry. He was talking to himself and humming throughout the entire process, and Draco found it rather endearing watching him do so. He carefully placed the dish in the oven, closed the door and stepped back tossing the oven gloves onto the counter with a huge sigh.

"There we go, twenty minutes and that should be ready. Fancy some wine?"

Draco often blanked out most of Harry's suggestions, however, a glass of wine sounded good, especially since it would numb the pain welling in his thigh. Harry poured two glasses and slumped down in the chair opposite Draco, who was swirling the glass in his hand and sipping gently, the sour tang melting over his tongue.

"Were you out working today?" Harry asked coyly, the topic of his work was still rather touchy.

"I wasn't actually, I had a meeting at the Ministry, apparently my father has been requesting that I visit him in Azkaban-"

"Are you going to?"

"Of course not, that man's been controlling and abusing me my entire life, he can rot for all I care." Draco spat, unbothered by the malice as he took another sip.

"I didn't realise things were so cold between you. I assumed you and your father had a close relationship given how much you would run to him back in school."

"Yes, well back then I was a child and I was naïve. People change."

"Have you changed?"

"What do you think?" Draco raised his brow, intrigued by Harry's response.

"I think you have," Harry admitted, looking down at the drink in his hand, "I think the moment Voldemort took over your life you let go of all the childish behaviour and realised what was important. You matured from what happened during the war and as a result, you've been damaged ever since."

"How kind of you." Draco sneered.

"It's true though. Find me one single person that wasn't affected by the events of the war. People lost loved ones, became orphans, their school was destroyed, and the wizarding world was torn and thrown into the darkness of discrimination and injustice. I still suffer from it all."

"You do?"

Harry shrugged, feeling like he'd said too much, "I have trouble sleeping some nights... bad dreams and stuff, witnessing that much death and torture just..." he trailed off, unable to speak past the lump forming in his throat.

"I've never heard you having nightmares?"

"I put up a silencing spell before bed."

"So you'll put up a spell for a few nightmares but not for a bit of late-night buggery? Unbelievable."

"I forget sometimes, alright? You get distracted when you're... entertaining."

"Oh whatever, I'm convinced you do it just to piss me off." Draco rolled his eyes, forcing back the urge to grin.