Chapter Text
The next morning, Draco found his cup in Harry Potter's hands.
He stopped in the kitchen doorway.
Harry was leaning against the worktop, barefoot, in jogging bottoms and a grey T-shirt. His hair was damp, and he was holding, by its handle, the cup Draco had brought from Mayfair because he had no intention of spending weeks drinking tea out of promotional mugs.
There were six of them in the cupboard. Two advertised swimming competitions, one had a chipped handle, and another was large enough to serve soup in.
"Morning," Harry said.
Draco looked at the cup. Harry followed his gaze.
"I made tea."
"I can see that."
"There's more in the pot."
Draco came closer. The lid was off the teapot. He put it on.
Harry took another sip.
"I bought the one we had yesterday."
Draco looked at the box beside the kettle: Darjeeling.
"You did?"
"I liked it."
For a moment, the kitchen seemed a perfectly acceptable place.
"And that is my cup," Draco said.
Harry looked down.
"Oh. Sorry."
"I'm not insisting you stop using it."
"You're looking at me as though you are."
Draco opened the cupboard and examined his options.
"Are there no cups?"
Harry looked at the one he was holding.
"Besides that one," Draco clarified.
Harry took a blue one from the top shelf.
"That one was hidden."
"Behind a glass, Potter."
Draco accepted the cup, poured himself some tea and tasted it.
"How long did you leave it to brew?"
Harry thought about it.
"As long as it took to make toast."
Draco put down his cup.
"We need to have a conversation."
✦ ✦ ✦
Eight minutes later, Harry knew that "until it goes dark" was not a criterion, that adding more water to the same leaves would not necessarily solve the problem, and that Draco was not angry. That last point had been clarified three times.
"Do you always explain things like this?" Harry asked.
"Like what?"
"As though there's going to be an exam afterwards."
Draco opened the jam jar.
"You asked."
"I asked if it was bad."
"And I explained why."
Harry looked at the teapot.
"I'll try again tomorrow."
Draco found a clean knife.
"There's no need."
"I want to."
Draco spread jam on his toast with more care than the task required. Harry was watching him over the stolen cup.
"Have you been swimming already?" Draco asked.
"Yes."
Draco checked the kitchen clock.
"What time?"
Harry told him. Draco stopped with the knife poised over his toast.
"Voluntarily?"
"It's my job."
"Even so."
Harry laughed.
An open bag stood by the door, a pair of swimming goggles showing in the side pocket. Draco looked at the damp hair, then at the bag.
"And you're going back?"
"Later."
One had to acknowledge a certain consistency between this routine and the man Draco had watched competing. That reassured him for a few seconds.
Harry picked up a very dark piece of toast from the worktop, scraped it with a knife and ate it. The reassurance passed.
"Will you be home tonight?" Harry asked.
"Probably."
"We could have dinner together."
Draco looked up.
"Here?"
"It's where the kitchen is."
"I know where the kitchen is, Potter."
"Settled, then."
Harry put the cup in the sink.
"I'll make something."
"That covers rather a lot."
"Dinner," Harry clarified. "Something for dinner."
Before Draco could ask what, he was already in the hall. Draco looked at the sink.
The cup was in it, with a spoon. He removed the spoon.
✦ ✦ ✦
At eleven twenty, the builder rang.
Draco received the news standing by the sitting-room window.
"What do you mean, 'not exactly the same'?"
He listened to the explanation.
"I know natural stone varies. That is why I chose that one."
Another explanation.
"Then we agree that the one which arrived is not the one I chose."
Harry had a small table beside the sofa. On it were two magazines, a remote control, a folded bill and a medal with its ribbon wound round it.
Draco moved the bill off the medal.
"No, you cannot fit it so I can see what it looks like."
He sat down.
"Because then it will have been fitted."
By the time he hung up, he had written three messages, arranged a visit to the flat and decided to go out for dinner.
At six forty, however, he heard Harry arrive in the kitchen with shopping bags.
Draco was upstairs. He came down merely to ask whether Harry needed anything.
Harry had rolled up the sleeves of a blue shirt and spread the shopping over the worktop.
"I bought a lemon," he announced.
Draco looked at him.
"Congratulations."
"And other things."
There was fish, potatoes, a packet of green beans and a dessert in a bakery box.
Draco rested a hand on the back of a chair.
"You cook?"
"Two or three things."
"Which ones?"
"Today, this one."
Harry took the potatoes out of the bag.
Draco stayed.
✦ ✦ ✦
The first problem was the knife.
"Isn't there another one?" Draco asked.
Harry held up the one in his hand.
"What's wrong with this one?"
"It's blunt."
"It cut the potato."
"With difficulty."
Harry looked at the cut potato, then at him.
"It didn't complain."
Draco opened a drawer.
The second problem was the size of the pieces.
"Those will cook before these."
"Then I'll take them out first."
"You could cut them the same size."
Harry handed him the knife.
"Could you do that bit?"
Draco looked at the handle.
"I could."
Ten minutes later, he had produced six pieces of potato and a considerable number of observations about the utensils.
Harry picked a piece up from the chopping board.
"This one's bigger."
"Not significantly."
Harry set it beside another.
Draco took the knife back.
"I'm finishing."
Harry went to see to the fish.
For a while, they worked in silence. Harry opened the packet of green beans, switched on the oven and took a roasting tin out of the cupboard. Draco stepped aside to let him past; Harry briefly rested a hand on his back.
"Thanks."
Draco cut the last potato into three pieces.
He examined the results.
He put them in the tin.
"Did your builder ring?" Harry asked.
"He did."
"Bad news?"
"Absurd news."
Harry smiled.
"What was it today?"
Draco began with the wrong stone and finished with an assessment of the word "equivalent", which seemed to have acquired an entirely new meaning since the renovations began.
Harry listened while squeezing a lemon.
"And he wanted to fit it anyway?" he asked.
"So I could see what it looked like."
"But then it would already be fitted."
Draco turned to him.
"Exactly."
Harry nodded very seriously.
Draco grew suspicious.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"Not yet."
Harry picked up a green bean.
"Does this need cutting?"
✦ ✦ ✦
Dinner was ready twenty minutes later than Harry had predicted, but no one had died and the fish looked perfectly edible.
Draco had laid the table.
He had found plates without slogans, two cloth napkins and wine glasses.
Harry came in with the roasting tin and stopped.
"It looks lovely."
"You had the things."
"I know. I just don't usually..."
He made a vague gesture towards the table.
Draco adjusted a piece of cutlery.
"It was hardly a major undertaking."
"I like it."
Harry set the tin in the centre of the table and pulled out a chair for Draco.
Draco sat down.
The fish was good.
So were the potatoes.
He ate a little more before saying:
"You could have used less lemon."
Harry tasted it again.
"I like it like this."
Draco looked at his plate.
"I noticed."
"But is it good?"
"Yes."
Harry smiled with a satisfaction Draco thought disproportionate to the remark.
He served Draco more potatoes.
"Are you working tomorrow?" he asked.
"I'm going to the flat."
"And afterwards?"
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Do you have another meal planned?"
Harry laughed.
"I'm trying to find out what you do when you're not here."
"There are quite a lot of things to do outside your house."
"Do you work with your dad?"
Draco put down his fork.
"Sometimes."
Harry waited.
"There are meetings I attend," Draco added. "Documents I need to read. People who insist on explaining those documents after I've already read them."
"Do you enjoy it?"
"The documents?"
"The work."
Draco thought for a moment.
"Some parts."
"Which ones?"
It was a simple question. Even so, he couldn't remember the last person who had asked it.
He spoke about a recent negotiation, something he had managed to put right before it reached his father, and a director who had a habit of repeating information no one had disputed.
Harry listened.
When Draco realised he had been talking for some time, he picked up his glass.
"But this can hardly be what you had in mind for dinner conversation."
"You look very pleased when you get to the bit where the director had to admit he was wrong."
"Because he was wrong."
"Yes. That bit was clear."
Draco tried not to smile.
He didn't entirely succeed.
Harry noticed.
"You should do that more."
"What?"
"Smile."
Draco drank some water.
"I'd need more reasons."
Harry leaned forward a little.
"I'm trying."
For a second, Draco could think of nothing appropriate to say.
Then he looked at the fish.
"Dinner was a reasonable effort."
Harry lowered his head, laughing.
Draco sought another subject.
"When's your next competition?"
Harry told him, then asked:
"Do you follow it?"
"Occasionally."
"On television?"
"That is where they tend to broadcast it."
Harry smiled.
"You could come to one."
"I have."
Harry put down his fork.
"You have?"
Draco picked up a green bean.
"Hélène had tickets."
"Which one?"
He told him.
Harry stared at him.
"That was last year."
"Yes."
"Before we met."
"I didn't need to know you to watch."
"No. I just didn't know you'd been."
Draco ate the bean.
"You won."
"I did."
"Although the interview afterwards was dreadful."
Harry burst out laughing.
"I was tired."
"You answered 'yes' to a question beginning with 'how'."
"You remember that?"
Draco poured himself some water.
"It was a very inadequate answer."
Harry was still smiling.
"I'll try to do better next time."
✦ ✦ ✦
Dessert was an apple tart.
"I didn't make it," Harry said.
"I saw the box."
"Just so you don't get your hopes up for next time."
Draco, who was clearing the plates, stopped.
"Next time?"
Harry opened a cupboard, looking for smaller plates.
"We could have dinner together again."
"If I'm here."
Harry looked at him.
"Do you still want to go to a hotel?"
Draco put the plates in the sink.
"I haven't made any decisions."
"Right."
Harry found the plates, but didn't move away.
"I like having you here."
Draco turned.
Harry had said it as casually as he had announced dessert.
Draco waited for something to complete the sentence.
Nothing came.
"The house has a good layout," he replied. "The room is comfortable."
Harry looked at the plates in his hands.
Then at him.
"I'm glad."
"And the distance from Mayfair is manageable."
"Good to know I'm in an acceptable location."
Draco noticed the smile.
"That wasn't what I..."
His phone began vibrating in the sitting room.
He took a step towards it.
Stopped.
"It'll be the builder."
"You can answer it."
The phone kept vibrating.
Draco looked at the oven clock.
The man had promised to ring two hours earlier.
"He can wait."
Harry cut the tart.
✦ ✦ ✦
An hour later, the tea was ready.
Harry had put the lid on the teapot.
He had also returned Draco's cup, clean, to its place.
Draco noticed both things and commented on neither. Harry, however, followed his gaze.
"I think I've passed."
"I haven't tasted it yet."
Harry sat down opposite him.
Draco raised the cup to his lips.
The tea was better.
"Acceptable," he said.
Harry smiled.
Draco's phone announced a message.
Hélène.
Found somewhere else?
Draco looked at the screen.
Across the table, Harry was looking for the spoon he had just put down beside his own plate.
Draco pointed it out.
"Oh. Thanks."
He typed:
Still considering my options.
The reply came almost immediately.
The hotel or the tea room?
Draco locked his phone.
"Everything all right?" Harry asked.
"Hélène is being a nuisance."
"She does that."
"With remarkable regularity."
Harry laughed.
Draco poured more tea.
