Drarry- Chocolate and Chamomile

3

"Malfoy moved in with you? Are you bloody mad, mate? Why didn't you just say no?". Ron's face was full of worry and bewilderment. "What if he hexes you in your sleep?", he added. "Ron, darling. That's not very helpful. Harry, you described that Malfoy seems very changed, right? Maybe he deserves a second chance and I'm glad that you're at least somewhat willing to grant it to him. However, this might be counterproductive.", Hermione suggested in her caring way that Harry would not like to miss, ever. "Counterproductive?", Harry asked, wondering if she meant that a new phase of obsessing over Draco Malfoy would be a bad way to pass the time. "You're taking this sabbatical to relax for a while, remember? Malfoy would only distract you from coming to terms with what you want to do with your life."

It was true. Ron had started Auror training without him and Hermione was studying to become a member of the department of Muggle liaisons. He himself, however, was currently doing tarot readings for fun with Asteria and playing board games with Francis, while both of them actually went to university, leaving him to be the only one completely clueless with what to do with his life. "Well, what do you want me to do? I can't tell him to leave now, he's unpacking his things as we're speaking". "How about giving him a chance? See if he's really changed. If not, we're always here for you, Harry. You could always move in with us."

"Do stay for lunch, Harry, darling", Hermione suggested. Ron was already setting the table, anxious of what his girlfriend would cook today. They took turns cooking, so desperately trying to improve that it melted Harry's heart every time he saw it, but, frankly, they were both shite when it came to cooking. At the end of the day, they'd always end up with takeaway or frozen meals intended for single households, sharing it because they, indeed, were not a single household. "Yeah, sure. Want me to give you a hand?", Harry proposed carefully, not wanting to hurt his friend's feelings, even though he was well aware of the fact that she knew she couldn't cook. Even though Harry had been forced to learn how to cook when he was little, fearing verbal torment from the Dursleys, he'd found that cooking actually was a very calming thing to do. Still, he was careful, remembering the last time he'd helped out (at the end Hermione had been at the edge of tears, Ron had been soothing her and Harry had run to the nearest pizza place to buy a family pizza for the three of them). "That's fine, love", she replied, assumingly remembering as well.

"By the way, Malfoy's queer", Harry mentioned, his mouth full with white bread. "Excuse me, what?!", Ron exclaimed, staring frantically at his friend. "Honestly, boys, it's always been quite obvious, hasn't it?",Hermione smirked, stirring an undefinable mixture in the pan. "What? No!", her boyfriend replied. "You think so, 'Mione?", Harry asked curiously, concerned about the fact that he hadn't noticed or even suspected it. "Well, aside from the stereotypical things such as his infatuation with grooming, especially his hair.. oh, and his nails, now that I think about it, that certain posture, that walk.. He really couldn't take his eyes off of Zabini for a while... and off of you, mind. And-" "Hermione! Are you mental? Are you suggesting Malfoy had a thing for... Harry?", Ron interrupted hysterically. Harry suddenly felt sick. Malfoy's statement from yesterday was playing inside his head over and over again.

"Thanks for the food, guys. I'll call you if something happens". Harry left the building, still feeling quite nauseated. Hermione had suspected it. Why didn't she tell him? Why was that certain piece of information about Malfoy of such importance to him?

Harry took his time on his way back, stopping at the most unnecessary corners, somehow frightened to go back to the apartment. His apartment, he reminded himself. Well, not his, but more his than Malfoy's. His only highlight of the day would be to see Asteria again. She was such a ray of sunshine and sheer positivity, she would be able to make him smile again, he hoped. Walking with faked valliance, he searched for his keys in the backpocket of his jeans. He let himself in, readying himself to see Malfoy in the kitchen. When he saw that he wasn't, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Harry, mate!", a beaming Francis said, "I'm picking up Asteria at the central station. Care to join me?" "No, I'll probably lie down for a while".

Harry decided that he was in desperate need for a cup of tea and poured water in the water boiler, patiently waiting for it to start cooking. He rummaged in their tea box situated on one of the marble shelves on the wall. He decided to go with chamomile, a calming and soothing tea for body and mind as Luna always told him. There was a clicking of a door in a lock coming from.. oh, perfect. "Are you making tea, Potter?", Malfoy asked as if the next reasonable step after announcing your support of the villain of the decade was to ask someone whether they were making tea. "Such a good observer", Harry muttered sarcastically. "Would you mind if I used some of that water?". Malfoy was slowly approaching the kitchen, as if he'd burn himself if he did without asking for permission first. "Whatever, Malfoy", answered Harry, joined by the feeling in the pit of his stomach once again. Harry took out a mug and just before he wanted to close the cup-shelf, he took out another, carefully sliding it over to where his new flatmate was standing. After putting the teabag in his mug, he poured the now boiling water into it. Just before he could flee the room, Malfoy let out an exasperated sound. "Potter, you can't just pour the water into the cup. I'm sorry, but you just can't". His tone wasn't mean or anything, still it made Harry want to punch him. "Well, believe me or not, but I just did".
"But that has no class. A lot of the flavour is lost when you do it like that, actually."
"And how does someone with class do it,then?"
"You pour the water into a small pot and let it cook, not boil, and then pour it into this teapot right here over here, let it steep for six minutes and voilà, you've got your proper English tea", Malfoy expounded. Harry chose to ignore the turn his stomach made when Malfoy casually used a french word with such a perfect pronunciation.
"That's so time consuming, though"
"Are you busy?"
"No, not really"
"Then let's make it"