Chapter Text
Harry and Cho sat across from each other at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place awkwardly.
Harry finished his lunch first. ‘I think we need to talk.’
Cho quirked a smile. ‘About how this isn’t working?’
Harry ruffled his hair. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I thought maybe the second time...’
Cho laughed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘This time was better though. You’re going to the party later, right?’
‘Yeah. I hope it won’t be too awkward.’ Harry stood up.
‘Only if we make it so.’ Cho stood up too, and they cleared away the dishes together. After they finished, she said, ‘I’ll get my things, then.’
Harry bit his lip. ‘There’s no hurry. If you do leave anything behind, I’ll send it back to you.’
‘I know.’
Harry headed towards the door. ‘I’ll leave you to it? I think I’ll go over to Draco’s.’
Cho gave him a thoughtful look. ‘Now that we’re no longer dating, I can admit that I always wondered whether or not you’d ever dated him.’
Harry snorted. ‘Me, dating him? He’s definitely not into that kind of thing.’ Harry shuddered. ‘I can’t even imagine how horrible it’d be.’
Cho shook her head. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ she said. ‘Have fun with Draco.’
Harry chuckled. ‘I don’t know if you call it fun. I spend most of the time annoying him.’
Cho gave a little smile, and they went in separate directions: Harry to the Floo in the drawing room and Cho up to the bedroom.
When Harry arrived at Draco’s London flat, the first thing he noticed was the sound of music, resonating through the air like the hum of magic.
Harry grinned and cast a silencing charm on his feet, before creeping towards the music room. The door was slightly ajar, and Harry could see Draco sitting in his chair. From Harry’s position, the slight forward slope of the chair was obvious, and Draco’s head was slightly bent away over the cello between his legs. Draco’s arms moved in sharp and smooth movements, and the music emerged strong, deep and fast, with an underlying beat Harry could feel in his heart.
The moment the song finished and Draco’s arms relaxed, Harry stepped into the room. ‘Bravo!’ he said, clapping loudly.
Draco’s head twisted towards him, eyes startled wide. ‘Potter,’ he hissed. ‘How many times have I reprimanded you about this habit?’
Harry grinned easily. He crossed the room and lay down on the sofa pushed against the far wall. The red comfy thing was Harry’s addition to the room for the purposes of annoying Draco and gave Harry some place to sit when he wanted to listen to Draco play.
‘Why?’ Harry asked, still grinning. ‘Do you often play naked when I’m not around?’
Draco shuddered. ‘Regardless of how handsome I look, I doubt it’ll do either of us favours.’
Harry laughed.
Draco shifted his cello and gave Harry an exasperated look. ‘Why are you here, Potter?’
‘Me and Cho broke up,’ Harry shrugged.
‘Cho and I,’ Draco corrected. ‘Did you truly?’
Harry stared up at the ceiling. ‘Yeah, I guess we did. I don’t feel any different.’
‘Perhaps you spent too much time irritating me instead of romancing her,’ Draco said drily.
Harry turned his head and eyes to Draco. ‘You think so?’
‘It was your relationship.’
‘I ask you for relationship advice all the time,’ Harry pointed out.
‘Yes, because you never grew out of your Gryffindork stage,’ Draco drawled. ‘I suppose you parted as friends?’
Harry gave Draco an exaggerated narrowed-eye look. ‘How would you know?’
Draco smirked. ‘Perhaps I just know absolutely everything.’
Harry groaned and pressed his hands against his eyes.
‘Now, cease your inane chatter. You’ve interrupted my practice time yet again.’
Harry cracked one eye open. ‘What if I get bored listening?’
Draco straightened, looking haughtily at Harry. ‘I shall ignored the insinuation that I am boring. You are, however, entirely welcome to leave.’
Harry grinned and rolled over on the sofa so that his back was to Draco. It was Saturday afternoon, and he didn’t really have anything better to do before the party later. It was from experience that Harry learned to avoid Hermione and Ron’s place on Saturdays, after seeing a little bit too much of his closest friends. In contrast, Draco’s flat was always safe—Draco wasn’t one for conducting sexual activities, as the man himself had once told Harry.
‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake. Potter, you’re not going to fall asleep, are you?’
Harry grinned into the fabric of the sofa, but didn’t reply.
‘Git,’ Draco muttered.
Harry turned his head around. ‘You too!’ he said cheerily. He rolled his eyes when he felt Draco cast a silencing charm over him.
There was a rustling of pages, and then the first singing notes. Harry snuggled comfortably into the sofa, and settled down to listen.
*
Draco filled the room with music, loving the rush of creation and energy that spilled from his own hands and the bow and the strings as he played. He never played the same song the same: a slightly elongated note, a deepening of sound all changed the music in nuanced ways, just as no potion exactly alike because no set of ingredients could be exactly the same.
It was something that he had started as a child, yet another necessary skill for a Malfoy; but after the War, it was one of the few activities he could do that could not be construed as Dark. It crept up on him, from something to keep the boredom away to something he wanted to do for its own sake.
His mother and father were dismayed, but it was benign compared to other life ‘choices’ they also despaired of, so Draco did his best to take no notice.
Eventually, he felt his arms tire, and he eased from the music. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry dozing. Draco had been quite offended when Harry did that the first time, but by this point, he was more irritated that when the silencing charm wore off, Harry’s snores interrupted the flow of his playing.
With a flick of his wrist, Draco closed the music book and let it float back into its place on the shelves.
He momentarily rested the bow on the table to tend to his cello. With a soft cloth, he gently wiped down the body of the instrument, and the neck and the scroll; he used a different cloth to clean the strings. After a brief check to make sure the bridge remained nearly perpendicular to the belly of the cello, he adjusted the endpin back in, and placed the cello on its stand at the side of the room. To his bow, he loosened the hair, and wiped down the stick and frog, before also placing it on the stand.
Harry still hadn’t woken. Draco’s fingers itched to smooth down the dark tufts of Harry’s hair, but as always, he restrained himself. To ease the wanted-movement in his hand, Draco sent a little Stinging Hex to Harry’s arse.
‘Hey!’ Harry yelped. He rolled off the sofa and fell to the ground in a loud thump.
Draco took a stepped towards him, letting his shadow fall across Harry’s face. ‘Hello, Potter,’ he said nonchalantly.
‘I told you to stop doing that,’ Harry scowled, getting up in one fluid movement.
Draco kept his expression bland. ‘Likewise, I have requested you stop sleeping in my music room.’
Harry gave him sly look. ‘You left the sofa here.’
‘Perhaps others sit there stay awake,’ Draco retorted.
‘Who?’ Harry asked quickly, frowning.
Draco smirked and turned away. He gave his arms and fingers a little stretch. ‘None of your business, Potter.’
Harry grabbed him by the shoulders just at the doorway. ‘Who?’ he repeated, with all the curiosity of a small child.
Draco jabbed him in the side. ‘Potter, restrain yourself. I was merely referring to Pansy and Blaise. Astoria also occasionally plays with me.’ Draco decided it was time for some tea; Merlin knew that feeding Harry Potter made him more agreeable.
Harry trailed after him. ‘Should I learn a musical instrument?’
‘Don’t try something I know you’ll fail at,’ Draco said. Harry gave a predictable response.
‘I bet I can. I’m going to ask Hermione.’
Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry and raised an eyebrow. ‘You do that,’ he said in the most condescending tone he could muster.
Harry merely rolled his eyes. ‘What goes well with yours?’
‘With the cello?’
Draco entered the kitchen. With a few familiar swishes of his wand, his tea set and tea tin floated out of their respective cupboards. Harry moved past him to take out the biscuits from the cupboard by hand, and then sat at the table and waited expectantly for Draco to make some tea for him.
Draco made Harry’s tea with the same care he made his own, even though he doubted Harry could tell the difference.
‘Virtually any instrument could accompany the cello, if the musician is sufficiently skilled.’ Draco passed Harry’s his tea, and sat down.
Harry scowled. ‘That’s not helpful.’ He crunched a biscuit loudly. Draco wrinkled his nose at the crumbs dropping across the table.
‘Perhaps you can sing. I’ve certainly heard it before. What was it that you were singing last week?’
Harry let his head fall to the table, which did not disguise the flush crawling up his neck. ‘Nothing. It was nothing. I was drunk.’
‘Drunkenness doesn’t excuse you from that mess,’ Draco replied. Harry had gotten disgustingly drunk last Slytherin/Gryffindor meet up, and belted out a love song whilst squirming in the lap of an equally drunk Ronald Weasley. And then Harry had proceeded to do the same thing on Hermione Granger’s lap. Draco still wondered why Harry hadn’t ended up snogging his best friends.
‘I can’t help it,’ Harry said morosely, his mouth down turned.
‘Should I look forward to a repeat performance tonight? On the Granger-Weasleys’ anniversary, no less?’
Harry gave him a baleful glare. ‘No.’
Draco looked back coolly.
Eventually, Harry looked away, chuckling. ‘I suppose it was a little funny.’
‘Harry Potter accedes that Draco Malfoy is correct,’ Draco smirked.
Harry shook his head and smiled. ‘So, what are we going to do now?’
Draco raised an eyebrow, falling into a familiar exchange. ‘What will I do now,’ he corrected. ‘I will look over my potions notes. You will sit quietly.’
‘But that’s so boring.’ Harry pouted playfully.
And as always, Draco relented. With enough irritation to avoid sounding eager, he said, ‘Fine, Potter, what would you like to do?’
‘I was thinking of baking something for the party tonight.’
Both of Draco’s eyebrows rose. ‘Truly?’
Harry shrugged. ‘Why not. Are you going to help me?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘No,’ Harry replied cheerfully. ‘C’mon, Malfoy, we need to go the shops.’
Draco frowned. ‘You haven’t even bought the ingredients?’
Harry just grinned brighter. ‘Let’s go, then!’
If it weren’t so utterly plebeian, Draco might have let his head fall to the table in defeat.