Post-peace Chaos (Drarry)

Chapter 25

[Harry and Draco]

"Not bad," Harry reviewed thickly as he shoved another spoonful of lasagna into his mouth.

Harry was sitting in the recently tidied-up dining room, beside a recently tidied-up Draco. Recently might be exaggerating. Harry had been dawdling on the oddly pressed-down couch for nearly an hour before Draco reappeared, everything on his body from his hair to clothing immaculate.

"'Course it's not bad. I still have good taste, even in muggle markets, you know," Draco said as he elegantly twisted up a forkful of cream pasta.

Harry chewed for a while, thinking. "You know, now I owe you two breakfasts, two meals, and two night's stay."

"Why don't you treat me to dinner someday then, Potter?"

Harry stared at him. "Harry," he corrected. "And did you just invite yourself to dinner with me?"

Draco shrugged and smirked a little. "Might have. Harry."

Harry laughed. "Oh well, that seems fair... tell you what, why not come by my place tomorrow night? I'll cook."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"Hey!" Harry wheeled, offended. "Don't look so surprised. I cook, as a matter of fact, fairly nicely. Not better than Gin, obviously, but she's fine with it."

Draco peered at him. "All right, it's a da- deal," he choked, mid-sentence. Not a date. Definitely not a date. But then his brow furrowed. "I thought you had Auror training?"

Harry groaned. "Yeah... I do- you up for a slightly late dinner?" he asked in a pained voice.

Draco snorted. "What do you think we're doing now?"

Harry gave him a wincing smile. "Sure. Deal."

He wished that he could call in sick for another day. He wasn't ready to face the gawking people at the Ministry yet. But he knew he couldn't take two sick leaves in a row, Travailler would go berserk.

They ate in silence for a moment when Draco piped up. "When are you going to address the... you know, the whole gay mania thing?"

Harry let out a long exhale. "I hate doing this stuff. Even if I always do it via The Quibbler, which is always a pain for the Prophet and a good laugh for me." He smiled.

"It's smart though, using The Quibbler," Draco said.

"Yeah. And Luna's pretty happy about it. Whenever I floo call her for an interview I can practically hear her giddiness. Especially when I always refuse every other magazine or paper's interview requests or answering their questions, so they can proudly write exclusive all over their covers. People still believe the Prophet's rubbish articles though."

"It's nice what you're doing for the Lovegoods," Draco commented.

"Nah, it's nothing, least I could do... also, it really is hilarious to see the tiny man fuming at me whenever The Quibbler beats them to me." Harry chuckled. "But I'll have to do it soon. Perhaps sometime this week. People can be pretty nosy at the Ministry, mind you. How's your mother?"

"My mother?" Draco sipped his expensive tea. "Well... same old, same old. We owl fairly a bit. Not doing too bad, since she still has all the Malfoy fortune- which, I strongly suspect, that you had something to do with."

Harry fluttered his eyelashes innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about," he grinned mischievously.

"Oh, come off it," Draco snapped, "Of course you were behind all that. My mother was declared innocent after like, what, five seconds of the hearing? And I didn't even have a hearing. I'd be nuts to say you weren't the mastermind behind the scenes."

"Fine. I might've had... interfered... a tiny bit. It's reasonable, yeah?" He scraped up the remaining of his lasagna from his plate. "How's she doing without your father?"

Draco winced at the mention of Lucius Malfoy but remained his composure. "I'd say better," he laughed a little. "She's out shopping, traveling, doing whatever she wants. Never seen her so carefree and happy, to be honest."

"That's really nice," Harry replied, smiling.

With a swift wave of Draco's wand, the plates and the cups of tea cleared. He looked up at his wrist. "It's nine, Harry," he declared.

Harry was zipping up his coat. "Yeah?"

"Why- why not stay over another night?" he asked, blushing furiously. His head was flying with cackles at himself. He was practically begging him to stay. Whatever shattered his pride, he didn't know.

Harry stared at him. "What?"

Draco blinked. "I'm- I'm out of floo powder." That was the lamest excuse in the whole world. "You don't want to risk being seen, right?" He desperately tried to mask his embarrassment with a sneer.

Harry paused for a bit. "Oh! Well, then... I can apparate," he said.

Dammit. Apparition. "Fine," he snapped, back to his cold and leering self. "Goodbye. I expect you to owl me details about dinner tomorrow."

He turned swiftly but heard Harry's coat unzip. He wheeled around and stared at him.

"Well, you did invite me," Harry said, matter-of-factly. Why am I doing this again? But his body ignored his brain and he hung his coat swiftly onto the coat rack. "Now I owe you three nights," Harry grinned at him.

Draco blinked. "Very well," he choked, his mouth extremely dry. "I- I trust that you know your rooms?" He sneered at him.

"Hey, it's not my fault that you have a design flaw," Harry retorted. "They shouldn't use identical doors..." he muttered, as he followed a smirking Draco upstairs.