Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy arrived at Fortnum & Mason at half past four and found his table empty.
It was a disappointment. The room was busy enough for someone to have been foolish enough to occupy it, and he had come prepared to deal with the matter. Instead, the waiter greeted him by name, took his coat and showed him to the window without making a single mistake. Draco sat down.
Piccadilly was impossible. Getting out of the car, he had been obliged to wait while an entire family finished photographing something across the road. The mother had asked him to move a little. He had moved. She had asked him to move a little more.
They needed to find another tea room.
He checked his watch.
Four thirty-four.
He ordered Darjeeling for himself and white tea for Hélène, along with afternoon tea for two. She tended to claim she wasn't hungry and then eat his sandwiches.
At four forty, he considered starting.
At four forty-five, he started.
At four fifty, he decided she deserved to find nothing left but the cucumber sandwiches.
At four fifty-eight, he heard her laugh.
Hélène was making her way between the tables, chatting to the waiter who had taken his coat. Her cheeks were red from the cold, and a lock of hair had caught in a fold of her scarf. When she freed it, the light picked out copper first, then gold, then a colour Draco couldn't name.
He lost a few seconds looking. Then he remembered his watch.
"Have you ever heard of five o'clock tea?"
Hélène consulted her own wrist.
"Yes. I'm early."
Draco rose to greet her. She kissed him on both cheeks, smelling of lemon and cold air, and set her bag on the next chair.
"Mieux vaut tard que jamais."
"An expression invented by people who are late."
"And kept alive by people who know how to welcome them."
She took off her gloves, settled into her chair and surveyed the table.
"You ordered without waiting for me?"
"No. I ordered while waiting for you. There is a difference."
Hélène picked up a cucumber sandwich. Draco regarded it with disappointment.
"Piccadilly is unbearable," he announced. "We need to find somewhere else."
"Agreed."
"The sheer number of people..."
"Have you booked for next week?"
"Yes."
"Here?"
"Obviously. We haven't found anywhere else yet."
Hélène nodded, satisfied, and poured herself some tea. His was already the wrong temperature. He summoned a waiter and ordered a fresh pot.
"I had a lovely morning," she said.
"I'm pleased one of us did."
"Remember the man who said I'd have to redo that assessment?"
"Vaguely."
"I don't have to redo it."
"He was wrong?"
"Obviously."
"Have you had a chance to tell him?"
Hélène set down her cup.
"I forwarded the confirmation."
"With how many people copied in?"
"The relevant ones."
Draco smiled.
"You have turned out to be a rather competent doctor, Hélène. All those years of training just to win an argument would have been an extraordinary commitment to stubbornness."
"You say that as though you don't admire dedication."
"I admire discretion."
"It must be difficult admiring something you've never practised."
The fresh pot arrived. Hélène thanked the waiter, waited for him to leave and reached towards the stand.
"Is that salmon?" she asked.
"It was the last one."
"I noticed."
Draco watched her eat it.
"You have an entire afternoon tea of your own."
"But that one was closer."
He opened his mouth.
"So?" she went on. "Still obsessed with the green eyes?"
Draco closed his mouth, adjusted his napkin and sat up straight.
"That is precisely what I need to discuss."
"The eyes?"
"I need to go home."
Hélène's hand stopped over the sugar bowl.
"Your house has no kitchen."
"I am aware of the state of my house."
"And half a bathroom missing."
"The builder has a very particular interpretation of the word 'half'."
"What did Harry do?"
Draco glanced at the next table. The two women sitting there were absorbed in a discussion about a third.
He lowered his voice.
"He had company."
Hélène waited.
"Last night."
She went on waiting.
"Two women."
"Draco, if you pause after every piece of information, we'll have to stay for dinner."
✦ ✦ ✦
When he had arrived at Harry's house the night before, the hall had been dark.
Draco had taken off his shoes and gone quietly upstairs. Potter had to leave early in the morning, and Draco had been making a considerable effort to respect that habit.
On the second-to-last step, he heard music. Then a laugh. Then a sound that made him stop.
He stood there for a few seconds, waiting to hear something that would allow him to interpret the noises differently. He didn't.
He finished climbing the stairs, crossed the landing and slipped into his own room. He switched on the light, set his shoes on the floor and was about to close the door when he heard another laugh. Another voice.
He looked towards Harry's room. The door opened. A naked woman appeared on the landing and stopped when she saw him.
"Hi."
"Hello," Draco replied.
She tried to cover herself with her hands. He fixed his gaze firmly on her face.
"Sorry. I didn't know anyone else was home. I'm just going to..."
She gestured towards the bathroom. Draco stepped aside, though there was enough room between them for two people to pass. That was when Harry appeared.
He was wrapped in a duvet, his hair even worse than usual, a cigarette between his fingers. He looked at Draco, looked at the bathroom and seemed to realise something.
"Shit. Draco. Sorry."
"Good evening, Potter."
"I forgot you were..."
Harry stopped. Draco waited, but he failed to find an ending.
"That's Padma."
The information did not help.
"And this is..."
Harry turned back towards his room. There was another woman in the bed. Draco looked from the bed to the bathroom door.
"Parvati," she said.
"Parvati," Harry repeated, smiling.
Draco selected a wall light and concentrated on it.
"I hope we didn't wake you," Harry went on.
"I've just got in."
"Great."
Draco looked at him again.
"I mean... great that we didn't wake you."
Harry gathered up a corner of the duvet that was beginning to slip.
"We're finished. We won't make any more noise."
"Potter, there is no need to inform me-"
"Go to bed. Goodnight."
He stepped forward and kissed Draco on the cheek. An affectionate, damp and entirely unexpected kiss. Draco remained motionless. Harry took two steps back.
"Say goodnight, Parvati."
"Goodnight, Parvati," Parvati replied.
Harry started laughing. The door closed.
Draco stood on the landing for a few more seconds. Then he went into his room, closed the door and looked at his shoes on the floor. One had fallen on its side. He set it upright.
✦ ✦ ✦
Hélène pressed her napkin to her eyes. Draco waited. She tried to lower it, looked at him and started laughing again.
"When you've finished..."
"Sorry."
"You don't sound sorry."
"I'm trying."
He poured more tea.
"There is nothing extraordinary about a twenty-seven-year-old man entertaining people in his own home."
"Two people."
"The number is irrelevant."
"You mentioned it twice."
"Because there were two."
Hélène took a scone and split it in half.
"And he kissed you."
"On the cheek."
"I heard."
"He was drunk."
"I heard that too."
She spread jam on one half of the scone.
"You could show a little discretion," Draco said.
Hélène looked at him. Then she looked around.
"You told me."
"Quietly."
"Would you like me to laugh more quietly?"
"I would like you not to laugh."
She put down her knife.
"All right. He should have warned you he was having company. And remembered you were there."
Draco inclined his head.
"Thank you."
"But I would have loved to see your face."
He picked up a sandwich.
"You told me he was disciplined."
"He is."
"Hélène."
"He turns up on time, does what we agree and doesn't argue with every instruction he's given."
"Your definition of discipline is limited."
"Does yours include what he's allowed to do on a Saturday night?"
"It includes not appearing naked on a landing."
"He was wearing a duvet."
"You're defending your recommendation."
"And you're talking as though I chose you a husband."
Draco put the sandwich back on his plate. Hélène picked up the other half of her scone. He waited for her to finish chewing.
"I'll find a hotel."
"I can recommend one."
"Can you?"
"Near your house. Easier to keep an eye on the renovations."
"I don't need to check on them every day."
"Then you can choose any hotel you like."
She took her phone out of her bag and set it on the table. Draco drank some tea.
"There's no particular hurry."
Hélène looked up.
"You've just said you need to leave."
"I need to consider my options."
"I'm offering you one."
"There are other considerations..."
He stopped. Harry was standing at the entrance to the room. He wore a dark coat, and his hair appeared to have been subjected to a recent attempt at correction. He was chatting to the waiter in front of him and smiling, perfectly presentable.
Hélène followed Draco's gaze.
"Harry!"
He turned. His smile widened when he recognised them. Draco set down his cup.
"Did you have to call him over?"
"Would you rather hide?"
Harry came to the table and bent to greet her.
"Hi, Hélène."
Then he looked at Draco.
"Hi."
"Potter."
Harry hesitated.
"Are you telling her?"
Hélène lowered her eyes to her plate. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Telling her what?"
"Right. Can I sit down?"
"Of course," Hélène said.
Harry took off his coat and sat in the empty chair.
"Sorry about last night."
"There is no need to discuss it here," Draco said.
"All right."
Hélène made a small noise. Harry looked at her.
"So you were telling her."
"I was discussing a problem with our living arrangements."
"Was it the noise?"
"Among other things."
Harry rested his forearms on the table and waited. Draco had assembled several complaints that morning, but he hadn't anticipated Potter listening to them like this.
"You could have warned me you were having company."
"I could. You're right."
Hélène took a sip of tea.
"And I should have remembered you were home," Harry added. "It won't happen again."
Draco considered this.
"Good."
"I mean I'll remember you're there. I'm not promising never to have anyone over again."
Hélène turned towards the window. Draco briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, Harry was smiling.
"You do that."
"Do what?"
"Close your eyes when you think I've said something stupid."
"It's an act of self-preservation."
Harry laughed. Draco picked up the sandwich he had abandoned. A waiter came over, and Harry asked for a cup. Then he surveyed what remained on the stands.
"Have you eaten all the salmon ones?" he asked Hélène.
"Not all of them."
Draco looked at her.
"No. I had the first one. She took the rest."
Harry turned to him.
"Can I have one of those?"
"Those are mine."
"I know. I'm asking."
Hélène finally finished her scone.
"Didn't you need to sort out somewhere to stay, Draco?"
He shot her a look. Harry lowered his hand.
"Are you moving out?"
"My house won't be under renovation for ever."
"Oh."
Harry leaned back, but kept looking at him.
"I thought there was still quite a lot to do."
"There is," Hélène said.
"I'm considering my options."
"Right." Harry glanced at his plate. "If I promise to warn you when I'm having company, can I have a sandwich?"
Draco pushed the plate a few inches towards him.
"You're a very poor negotiator."
"I got the sandwich."
Hélène smiled into her cup. The waiter returned with the crockery and asked whether they wanted anything else.
Harry looked at Draco.
"What tea are you having?"
"Darjeeling."
"I'll try that."
Draco lifted the lid of the pot. It was almost empty.
"Another pot of Darjeeling, please," he said.
Hélène put her phone back in her bag.