19 Years (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 17: Dinner Date

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Draco stared at the clock, drumming his fingers on his desktop, jiggling his knee, and willing the seconds to tick by faster. He couldn't remember a class dragging on nearly so long - not even History of Magic on Binns' driest days. He cast a discreet tempus under his desk and sighed. Nineteen more minutes. Tap. Tap. Tap. Seventeen. Tap. Tap. Tap. Twelve. Tap. Tap. T-

Draco stopped himself from casting another tempus with a grimace. This was ridiculous.

"All right, pack up your things."

"Professor?" His third-years goggled at him. "But... but there's ten minutes left until-"

Draco sighed. "Yes, yes. Surely you've been let out early before?"

They stared blankly up at him.

"Go on! Or I'll keep you through dinner, since you're so keen to stay."

He wouldn't, of course. That would be excruciating for all of them. Luckily he must have sounded like he meant it, because his students packed up and were out the door in record time.

Draco sat frozen at his desk for a long minute, then shook himself irritably. "What are you waiting for?" he asked the empty desks. "It's just Potter."

He squared his shoulders and strode through the corridors, determined not to let Potter get to him. Or at least not to show that he did, the git.

He paused outside the hospital wing, stooping to peek through the keyhole. He felt rather ridiculous, and no doubt looked it, but the hall was deserted. Potter's eyes were closed - with any luck he was sleeping and Draco could sneak the book out without his noticing. Yes, there it was, on the chair by the bed. Where he'd left it.

Right. Draco eased the door open and slipped through. He froze at the nearly-inaudible creak, then relaxed when Potter didn't stir. Slowly, cautiously, he tiptoed closer to Potter's bed. He was so close - just another few steps. One, two...

"Hullo, Draco."

Draco jumped, startled, and overbalanced. He grabbed frantically for something - anything - to break his fall, and his searching fingers closed around something warm and solid. Draco took a shaky breath, steadying himself. Then the warmth of the thing he had grabbed registered, and he felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck. He counted backwards from ten, trying desperately to control his pulse, which had leaped like a panicky deer and was now fluttering frantically beneath Harry's fingers - fingers which had wrapped firmly around his wrist as he'd grasped at Harry's arm. Giving it up as an exercise in futility, he raised his eyes to Harry's.

"Um. Hi."

Harry's eyes crinkled as he smiled, and Draco's traitorous pulse leaped again.

"Come to join me for dinner?" he asked, voice warm and smooth.

Chocolate, Draco thought faintly, he sounds like melted chocolate. He shook himself, appalled. "Er. No. That is - I just came for my book." He glared at it, sitting smugly in the chair, then reached out his right hand and swiped it, holding it close to his chest as he tried to tug the left from Harry's grip.

Harry just held on tighter. "Oh? It looks as though the house-elves, at least, were expecting you to eat here." He nodded to the twin trays that had appeared on the small table by his bed.

Draco sighed. Bloody Pomfrey. This is all her fault, I'm sure. He glanced around, suddenly suspicious that she was spying on them, but if she was, he couldn't see her. He still couldn't get his hand away, so he decided to just give in. He slumped down into his chair, dropping the book to the floor. Served it right. He tugged at his hand again.