19 Years (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 9: I *am* a Hufflepuff, you know

Monday, September 4, 2017

Teddy, deciding that he'd stalled as long as he dared, took a fortifying breath and walked back into the kitchen. He breathed out in relief when it proved to be as neat as he'd left it, with Harry and Draco companionably serving up a truly delicious-smelling breakfast, and not the grisly aftermath of a food fight or duel that he'd feared. 

As he watched, Harry carried the first plate to the table; Draco followed with the other two. Harry turned back for the mugs, but Draco waved his wand and floated all three gracefully through the air toward them. Harry frowned, furrowing his brow, and suddenly a baffling array of condiments and sides were pelting toward the table in an angry swarm. Teddy ducked and threw up a hasty shield charm. Draco merely raised a condescending eyebrow, as Harry fumbled his wand and then halted the barrage just before it impacted Teddy's shield.

Draco lifted one pale, thin finger and poked the salt cellar where it hovered in midair a scant inch from his nose. "Interesting," he said conversationally. "That's twice you've saved me from the salt this morning, Potter. Though I'm not sure the second should really count, since it was your fault the salt was winging toward my head in the first place." Harry grimaced. "Still," Draco continued, "it does make one wonder. Perhaps I should check myself into the hospital wing and get Madam Pomfrey to test my sodium levels."

Teddy snorted around a mouthful of bacon, having decided it was safe to sit down. "It wouldn't be Madam Pomfrey, for such a simple thing as that. Susan's mostly taken the hospital wing over. Madam Pomfrey supervises her, and helps out on the really complicated cases."

Draco paused. "Susan? The name sounds familiar, but..."

"Susan Bones," Harry supplied. "She was in our year. A Hufflepuff, lost most of her family to Death Eaters, was in the DA..."

"Oh." Draco grimaced. "The slug incident. Right."

"She probably doesn't remember..." Harry trailed off.

Draco snorted. "Oh, I'm sure she remembers. Rather unforgettable, that. From the suddenly-turned-slug side, anyway."

Harry tried valiantly not to smile, but couldn't hold it in. "Well. I suppose it was rather unforgettable from the other side too." He slapped Draco on the back, forgetting momentarily who he was talking to. "Cheer up, Malfoy. She probably can't do any worse. And, really, all she'll have to do is threaten you with slugs and you'll turn into a model patient."

"I appreciate the effort, Potter, but you really are pretty lousy in the reassurance department."

"Yeah, well. You're not the first to say that."

"Bones..." Draco mused. "Hmm. I can't decide whether it's appropriate or alarming."

"I'm leaning toward alarmingly appropriate, myself," Harry said. "Muggle doctors were once nicknamed "Sawbones," did you know? Around a hundred years ago, army doctors would saw the patient's arm or leg off, after a bad wound, because they didn't know how to stop the spread of infection."

Draco shuddered. "How positively barbaric! And you wonder why I've never been fond of muggles."

"I'm pretty sure they don't do it anymore," Harry offered.

"Hmm."

For a moment, the only sound was the clinking of silverware, and contented chewing. Then Draco broke the silence. "So, Potter. What do you have planned for your students today?"

Harry paused, fork hovering in midair. "Sorry, what?"

Draco cocked his head to one side. "You do remember that you'll be teaching classes after this?"