Days had passed since Draco's broken nose incident and things had returned to normal - for Harry anyway. The atmosphere in the house was pleasant, there was no bickering or nasty looks, and best of all, no more silence. Draco spent more time in the garden and occasionally Harry even saw him making himself breakfast or a small snack.
Draco seemed slightly brighter too, more open to conversation and even when he returned from his client visits, he often slept or lost himself in a good book. Harry still hated what Draco did because of the pain it caused him, but in order to keep the peace between them, he had to stay supportive, and supportive meant being quiet on the matter.
In Harry's mind, things had settled, and Draco was getting by fine.
Ignorance was bliss.
***
Draco placed the metal blade onto the bedside table and scrunched his eyes shut. The pain was worse this time, the blood streamed from the moment he made contact and it didn't stop.
He pressed the palm of his hand against the cut, hissing at the contact and applied pressure. His breaths were shaky, his hands trembling, everything felt very cold despite the sun beaming through his bedroom window.
Slowly, inhale, then exhale, then inhale again, and breathe, just breathe. That's all he did.
The pain seared against his thigh but it was welcomed. Everything centred to the cut, to the pain that he could control, the pain that he deserved to be feeling.
One day my flesh will be so tainted with scars that no one will want my body. I deserve this.
Just for a moment, his mind was at ease. The bleeding from his leg was physical and it stung beyond belief but it overwhelmed any of the hurt that festered deep down inside.
The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs alerted him to Harry's presence. He tucked the razor blade under a book, composed himself and wiped away the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He wouldn't allow himself the weakness of crying today, he had to stay strong because after all, he deserved this.
"Draco? Are you awake?" Harry called quietly from outside the door, accompanied by a gentle knock.
Draco swallowed and steadied his shaky voice, "I'll be out in a second."
"I'm cooking dinner in a minute, just wondered if maybe you wanted to join me... seeing as I'm finally home for a change and not drinking myself silly at Hudson's."
After a lengthy silence, where Harry feared he was once again being ignored, Draco answered. "Okay."
"Alright... um... cool." Harry nodded to himself and turned on his heel, returning to the kitchen.
Draco let out a ragged sigh and slumped against the side of the bed with his head in his hands. An evening with Harry didn't exactly sound like fun but then neither did another night alone in his bedroom. Perhaps the company would distract him from the growing pain he felt, both mentally and physically.
***
"Didn't wake you from a nap, did I?" Harry asked, stirring a pot of sauce that was simmering gently on the stove as Draco slipped into a seat at the table.
"No," Draco responded, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands. The pain in his leg was throbbing and he'd used his wand to stop any further bleeding but he tried with every effort to remain unaffected by it.
"Good. I'm making a chicken and leek pie for dinner, with vegetables. Hope that's alright?"
Draco's stomach sank at the idea of food but he buried the feeling. "Fine. Another Weasley recipe?"
"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.
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."
"You bought it for yourself, did you?" Draco said sceptically
"Yes... for this-" Harry slammed his elbow down onto the table forcefully, instantly regretting it. "Shit! Jesus that hurt!"
Draco almost snorted out his wine as he erupted into laughter whilst Harry scrunched up his face in pain, rubbing his elbow furiously. "Did you seriously just bash your arm just so that I'd take the potion?"
A croaky voice came from Harry, balled up with his forehead resting on the tabletop, "... yes."
"You're a massive idiot." he grinned
"...Yup."
Draco chuckled heartily to himself, shaking his head at Harry's idiocy and eventually, Harry sat back upright, his cheeks flushed after having made a fool of himself. Draco's laughter was infectious, the most heart-warming sound that filled Harry's chest with a warmth he couldn't explain. He couldn't remember if he'd ever heard Draco laugh like that, it was good to know he found humour in Harry's stupidity but regardless, he liked it very much.
"Fine, I'll use it, just stop abusing yourself, please," Draco laughed, watching Harry bring his hands to his face in an attempt to hide the massive blushing smile. "Are you okay?"
"Yup, yup... I'm fine," Harry hissed, rubbing the pained area before getting up from his seat to check on the dinner.
Draco downed the rest of his wine, then slowly broke the seal on the bottle and twisted the cap, dabbing a tiny drop of the pearlescent silver liquid onto his fingertips. He checked to make sure Harry was occupied with the food before he cautiously pulled back the sleeve of his jumper, applying the ointment to the bruise that wrapped a harsh purple band around his left wrist.
The liquid instantly soothed, cold against hot, prickly skin and he sucked a breath at the first contact, trying not to apply too much pressure to it. Lost in the task of covering the damaged area, he failed to notice Harry appear beside him, looking down with sympathetic eyes.
"Looks painful." Harry spoke,
Draco cowered slightly but realised there was no point in hiding the markings anymore, as long as he kept the rest of the damage hidden. "It's alright. I've had worse."
"A client really did that to you? Jesus, that must have been intense." Harry said, slipping down into his seat again, taking another swig of wine.
Draco swallowed, unsure of whether he really wanted to be speaking about his work life. "It's part of the job"
"Surely you could set boundaries, no?"
Draco thought about it, but chose to ignore Harry's last question, keeping his gaze fixed on the careful application of the liquid over his wrist, rubbing it in until the air dried it naturally.
Harry accepted Draco's silence and finished his glass of wine, topping himself up with the bottle before stirring the sauce on the stove using his wand whilst still seated.
"So, I have a question for you, what happened between you and the Weaslette?." Draco asked, wishing to steer the conversation in another direction. "Last I saw you, you couldn't keep your hands off each other, it was sickening, fast forward four years and you're sneaking blokes home every other night for a casual shag."
Harry glowered slightly at Draco's candidness, though he supposed he hadn't exactly been discreet about his conquests. "It just... fizzled out, I guess. We outgrew each other, she was my childhood crush, but not right for me as a partner."
"Are you looking for a partner?" Draco said, taking a sip of wine realising that at some point during their conversation Harry had given him a refill.
"I don't know. Hermione says I've become 'careless' with my romantic life, I personally just don't want an attachment, not yet anyway."
"Why not?"
"Who knows!" Harry chuckled, ruffling a hand through his bush of curls.
"Can I share my thoughts?"
"Please don't," Harry smirked jokingly, and Draco reciprocated.
"I think," Draco looked up in concentration, choosing his words carefully, "Throughout the war you dealt with a tremendous amount of loss, even before the battle, you carried a lot of grief with you - your parents, Sirius, Cedric, Dumbledore and so on... and so now it's easier for you to remain alone because at least when you're alone, you never have to deal with losing someone again. You're free to go about your life without the fear of reopening those wounds."
Draco took a slow sip of wine, satisfied that he'd nailed the reasoning. Harry's cheeky smile faded, suddenly the harsh honesty of something he'd been denying for years had been spoken to him so plainly, hearing it from someone else stung deep, particularly from somebody like Draco, who was supposed to know nothing about him.
"There might be some truth to that," he uttered, pushing up slowly from the chair, pretending that the food needed attention as Draco watched cautiously, wondering if he'd said too much.
"So now you like men," Draco said, breaking the silence between them
Harry crouched down to check the state of the pie in the oven, "Apparently so, don't ask me when that happened 'cause I have no idea."
"You sucked cock one night and realised it tickled your fancy?"
"Christ, Draco!" Harry scoffed a surprised laugh, turning back to face Draco and his brashness, "I... guess you could say that..."
Draco smiled inwardly, enjoying the teasing tone that flowed between both boys, a heat churned in the pit of his stomach having suddenly visualised that particular image of Harry on his knees. He shifted in his seat and hastily downed the rest of his glass.
"What about you then?" Harry asked, still stirring the pot of sauce. He'd figured he'd dealt enough of his personal life over the table, it was time for Draco to repay the favour.
"What about me?"
"Do you dig men? Women? Everyone? What's your deal?"
"You've already asked me this... twice." Draco stated, pouring himself a third glass of wine washed with a wave of relaxation.
"And both times you didn't answer me."
"Look, I don't know. Alright? It's a... complicated question." Draco shrugged, getting a little too familiar with his drink, he was sipping it now like it was water and the room around him was beginning to sway ever so gently.
"Maybe another bottle will crack you open!" Harry teased, swinging his arm out to reveal a second bottle of wine accompanied by a mischievous grin and Draco dropped his head back in the chair, smiling lazily.
The smells in the kitchen filled the room now as the steam from the pot curled up into the air and the pie began leaking over the crispy pastry topping. Harry slipped on the oven gloves and carefully took the pie from the oven, placing it onto a mat before dishing up two generous servings and topping with creamy cheese sauce.
It took him a little while longer now that the alcohol was running through his veins. He poured more sauce than he was supposed to and continuously dropped the utensils on the counter with a clatter but he still managed to complete the dish, much less sober than when he started.
"I hope it's alright," Harry said, popping open the second bottle and pouring it generously into his glass. Draco took a slow breath and looked down at the plate of food in front of him. A wave of nausea hit him in the stomach and suddenly the idea of eating filled him with dread. Fortunately, Harry was too busy tucking into his dinner to notice the unease of Draco sitting across from him, the haze of alcohol blurring his attention.
One small bite at a time, that's all. Just eat what you can, just try.
Harry took a forkful of food happily but faltered, looking back across at Draco. "Shit, sorry, I should've let you dish up your own food, stupid wine made me forget-"
"It's fine," Draco smiled sheepishly, pushing the food around on the end of his fork
"You don't have to eat it all, Draco, honestly, I know you're used to... smaller portions," he shrunk a little, praying that he hadn't touched a nerve considering Draco's unusual eating habits were never spoken of during their time together.
"It smells delicious," Draco said, forcing a smile. He was being truthful, because it really did, and it looked divine too, like something straight out of a recipe book but he regretted agreeing to have dinner with Harry. The company was nice, better than he thought it would be, but in hindsight, he'd wished they were simply chatting over a drink instead.
He liked being able to control what he ate and when he ate it, but this time that choice had been taken away from him. Harry presented him with a meal and the idea of not being able to eat it filled him with shame and self-loathing.
He didn't feel worthy of such luxuries, warm meals and fine wine were for people who had earned it, worked an honest day in their life and done good. He hadn't earned anything good, he didn't deserve it, he deserved to be sick and suffering.
Slowly, he scooped a small chunk of filling onto his fork and looked down at it, taking a silent inhale, he brought it to his lips with the slightest tremor in his hand. It was strained at first, but he managed, one bite, then another, then another, chewing slowly, wondering what he was consuming, forcing the muscles in his face to not show any discomfort because he didn't want to offend Harry.
Instead, he was quiet, taking one slow mouthful at a time before placing the fork down onto the plate and swallowing.
Witnessing such an unknown struggle caused Harry's chest to sink, the urge inside of him wanted to reach out and help in any way he could but at the same time, he didn't want to interfere. He slowed his eating, then placed the fork down beside the plate and cleansed his palette with wine. "You don't have to eat Draco, honestly. It's okay."
"I'm fine," Draco hushed, nodding to himself whilst forcing a smile, "It's fine... I'm trying, okay?". His voice wavered a little, the overwhelming wave of emotions flooding him.
"I know you are," Harry smiled, "Please don't force yourself to eat if you can't. I can make you something different or put it in a pot for another day."
Draco shook his head but said nothing, clearly overwhelmed but trying so hard not to let it get him, especially in front of Harry.
"I can eat my food in the other room if that's easier?"
"Please, Harry-" Draco sighed, exhausted with his constant kindness, "Just, talk to me."
"I- what?" Harry stuttered
"Talk to me, distract me, tell me a stupid story or anything... stop making a big deal of this, alright? I said I'm fine."
"Oh, right sorry," Harry said, pressing the napkin to his lips. He nodded as a way of agreement with Draco's idea and scanned his mind for ways to change the topic. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I do have quite a funny story about the time me, Fred and George played a prank on Ron. It was a week or so before the quidditch world cup and the twins were testing out their exploding toothpaste formula..."
Harry went on to fill the following hour with conversation about cringe-worthy school memories, his days at the Burrow during summer, his not-so-exciting times at Privet Drive and various notable anecdotes from life after the war.
Draco listened intently, and it did help to relax him too. Of course, he ate his food much slower than Harry, but he did his best, and savoured every delicious mouthful, focusing on the wonderful flavours instead of how his body and mind were reacting to it.
Harry went on to explain the discovery of Sirius Black being his Godfather during third year and all the heart-warming moments that they'd spent together during that time. Draco noticed the subtle change in Harry's tone as he recalled the memories, clearly a wound still so deep he wondered if Harry would ever truly recover from Sirius' death.
When Harry asked Draco about his Hogwarts memories, he had very little to say. He explained the regrets he had wasting years of his life surrounded by Crabbe and Goyle, both brainless and boring in his eyes and wished that he'd branched out to socialise with others. His parent's direction of Slytherin supremacy was ridiculous now he'd stepped away from it all, and towards the later years of school, most days were spent by himself, feeling very much alone.
Two hours had passed when Harry took the dishes over to the sink and began to rinse them, he put the leftovers from Draco's plate into a pot in the refrigerator but was pleased to see he'd eaten almost half the pastry and a few small carrots.
Draco dropped his head against the back of the chair, his eyes closed with a drunken smile plastered across his face. The room was swaying lazily now and his body felt warm and fuzzy, like he was weightless.
"Another one?" Harry asked, uncorking a third bottle of wine.
"Christ, how m-many bottles of wine d'you have?"
"Too many, apparently!" Harry hiccupped. His cheeks were the slightest tint of pink behind his caramel skin and his eyes had begun to soften as the haze of tiredness and warmth softened over him. He felt the buzz in his chest where the alcohol had loosened his inhibitions, a newfound confidence had grown, silencing out the awkward conversation and nervous laughter.
He refilled Draco's glass again, then his own and by this point couldn't keep track of how many drinks they'd had before slumping into the seat and taking another slow sip. He couldn't help noticing that Draco looked peaceful, no longer tense or timid, but relaxed, smiling more, it was a nice smile.
Thanks to the aid of the wine which mellowed the tension, they found themselves talking for hours, sharing stories and jokes about school, family and friends. The alcohol soothed any lingering pain that extended from reminiscing, leaving them grinning into their drinks and, without realising, grinning at each other.
At one point during an excited recollection, Draco managed to knock over a glass of red wine, apologising profusely through the drunken slurs whilst Harry reassured him that it wasn't an issue, he could clean it up with his wand in no time, which he did and they laughed about it.
Harry then tucked into a tub of strawberry ice cream whilst Draco politely refused, though Harry still gave him a spoon, just in case he changed his mind.
"The first time I tried ice cream was at Hogwarts. I was never allowed it at the Dursley's. Dudley would be given an entire bowl full, three scoops with all the toppings," he made a grand gesture with his hands, "-but I was only given the broken biscuits at the bottom of the jar once a week" Harry said, taking an extra indulgent bite of ice cream to make up for the years he was deprived of it. "I ate so many bowls of ice cream during my first week at Hogwarts that I gave myself a stomach ache. Ron teased me for weeks about it."
"You look like you're enjoying it," Draco smiled, "I'd have never guessed."
Harry beamed up at him, cheeks filled with dessert before swallowing the last of it and levitating the bowls over to the sink. He missed, of course, given how drunk he was, and instead they were greeted with a crash of ceramic all over the kitchen floor. Harry gasped, dropped his wand and almost fell out of his chair.
"How drunk are you?" Draco asked, his brow raised
"Mm-prob'ly a bit too drunk," Harry said, his head swaying gently
"Time for bed?"
"That's a good idea, Malf-I mean- Draco." Harry uttered, nodding to himself as he pushed from his seat and began to wander towards the broken china.
"I'll clean that," Draco said, watching Harry in slight pity at his drunken state. He was certainly feeling the effects of the wine too, but at least he was still able to string coherent thoughts together. "Knowing you, you'll most likely injure yourself on the sharp edges. Go to bed and don't even think about moaning in the morning when you're hungover."
"Alright bossy." Harry teased, heading toward the kitchen door.
"Wait," Draco called, stepping over the broken plates to reach him. "Are you sure you can make the stairs without falling over?"
"Aw, is someone concerned about me?" Harry poked the end of Draco's nose playfully, and Draco's eyes shot open at the close contact.
"No, I'm worried you're going to tumble to your death and everyone will think It was me that did it. My face doesn't look as pretty in mugshots, you know." Apparently the alcohol was strong enough for Draco to start making jokes again. This was new.
Harry laughed, "Alright... maybe... maybe I should jus' sleep on the sofa t'night."
"That's probably wise." Draco nodded, giving Harry a gentle nudge in the direction of the lounge but as he did, Harry spun back around, a glowing smile melted across his face.
"Are we friends now, Draco?"
Draco faltered, "I suppose we are, yes."
"Cool." Harry smiled.
A moment of hesitation fell between them as they stood facing each other by the doorway, awkward and unsure. Harry stepped forward timidly and Draco watched, unmoving. Their eyes met, hazy with drunken vision, and Harry smiled sleepily as he leant forward and planted a small kiss on Draco's cheek.
Draco froze. Staring at him with wide eyes as his mouth dropped open. His body was tense, his heart beating rapidly in his chest trying to comprehend what Harry was doing. The kiss was soft, barely gracing his cheek but he could sense Harry's warmth as he closed in, wanting him to stay.
It only lasted half a second, as Harry instantly pulled away and stepped back, gaze half-lidded and smiling. "Goodnight." He turned to leave, walking from the kitchen out of sight with a drunken hum, utterly oblivious and acting as though he'd merely given Draco a friendly pat on the arm.
Draco's fingers traced over the spot on his cheek where Harry had kissed him. His heart bloomed in his chest, draining all the blood leaving him weak and light-headed. He wanted to smile and panic at the same time, his mind twisting with confusion.
Through the silence of the house, Draco heard the thump of Harry's body collapsing onto the sofa before the light in the lounge went out. He returned to the plates gathering up as much as he could by hand, the pieces were sharp and it reminded him of the razor blade that was still sitting beside his bed, covered in dried blood causing his chest to sink. If only Harry knew that right before their lovely dinner, Draco had the blade cutting into his flesh.
For just a while, Harry had allowed him to forget about that pain.
He noticed Harry sleeping peacefully on the sofa as he ascended the stairs moments later, eyeing him through the bannisters, then climbed into his own bed, still thinking about Harry, still very much awake.