Stay With Me

Chapter 7

Harry scoffed and shook his head, a smile emerging catching sight of Draco's subtle smirk. For just a moment, their gaze met, Draco's teasing tone triggering a flutter in Harry's chest. Draco was tracing one finger around the rim of his wine glass therapeutically, looking up at Harry from under the stands of blonde that fell over his eyes.

Harry realised it was surprisingly nice to see Draco like that again, witty and biting, like his old self, only without the hostility. This was a Draco that he could easily get used to.

But Draco's smile faded, slowly turning sad, his thigh was throbbing and he closed his eyes for a moment to ease it, "I get them too... sometimes."

"Do you want to talk about them?"

"Absolutely not. Are you trying to act like my bloody therapist?"

"I'm trying to be nice to you, Draco, remember that silly little agreement we made to be civil?"

"Ah yes of course, how silly of us. I'm messing with you, Potter, relax." Draco smiled into his wine.

"Harry," he corrected, and Draco raised a brow at him, "Call me Harry."

"Harry?" Draco sounded out loud, grimacing in response, "Feels weird."

"Do it."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Fine," Draco took another swig, he was smirking down at the swirling red, suddenly feeling lighter, "Gosh, you're so demanding, Harry."

"I know I am, Draco." Harry grinned mischievously and Draco couldn't stop his mouth from turning up at the corners, Harry's boyish charm was bloody infectious.

Draco went to raise his glass for another sip but winced slightly at the movement which Harry caught on to.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing. It's just a small bruise on my arm." he tugged the sleeve further down over his wrist and sank into the chair.

Harry eyed Draco warily, "From a client?". Draco nodded, his eyes fixed on the table, lips set in a thin line. "Did they hurt you?"

"Not intentionally."

"That reminds me..." Harry started, caught in a train of thought as he pushed up from the table and left the room, he returned a few seconds later, placing a tiny brown glass bottle onto the table. "I may have got this for you a few weeks ago, but you were mad at me and we weren't talking so I was hesitant to show you."

Draco pulled the bottle closer and squinted to read the intricate hand-written label beneath the gold screw top. "'Colax's Remedial Bruising Ointment', Harry, this costs a fortune-"

"I know, I know," Harry cut in, "But I wanted you to have it."

"Why?"

"Because... I couldn't help noticing the bruises on your skin when I bumped into you the other week coming out of the bathroom and I see the way you wince when you move, please, just take it."

"You shouldn't have done that. I didn't ask for your help. I've been bathing the skin and pressing packs of cold peas and it's working fine." Draco sulked, the idea that Harry saw him as weak, as something that needed fixing made him shrink with self-hatred.

"Well I'm sick of you using my vegetables as a remedy, so use it," Harry argued, putting his foot down. Draco huffed and turned to look back out of the window, feeling Harry's stubborn glare in the corner of his vision.

"I wish you'd stop trying to be such a bloody do-gooder all the time, as if being a war hero isn't enough for you?"

"I wish you'd stop being so damn stubborn! For Christ's sake, Draco, just say thank you and accept it, consider it a peace offering for my shitty behaviour toward you. I'm not trying to fix you or heal a wounded soul, if you're gonna be that arsey about it then fine, I didn't buy it for you, I got it for myself, alright? It's now in the house for you to use at your will."