Day 733

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Draco hesitates outside the door of Harry's room, bag of takeaway in hand, when he hears voices inside. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, not really, he just doesn't want to interrupt.

"I just don't understand, Harry." Draco recognizes Ron's voice. "I think it's pretty clear at this point that things could work. I mean, yeah, maybe in the early days I can understand why you would hesitate, but now?"

"It's not that, Ron," Harry sighs. "Not anymore. It's just...too late. Again. Merlin. And I'm just not sure if we're even still...I mean, I know we did, but what if...?"

To Draco's alarm, Harry sounds almost teary. He has no idea what they're talking about, but clearly Harry's hurting. Draco can't wait any longer. He feels guilty and awkward listening to a conversation that is clearly none of his business. He knocks to let them know he's there.

"Harry. If you'd seen his face when..." Ron starts, but he cuts himself off at Draco's knock.

He pushes the door open and greets them with a cheerful, "hello!"

Ron and Harry both respond with forced, overly-bright smiles, but they relax slightly when Draco informs them that there's more than enough food for three in the bag and invites Ron to stay.

The awkwardness dissipates as the three of them divide up the food and sit down with their plates. 

"So, what did you think about that match last week?" Ron asks, digging in with enthusiasm. "No one thought the Cannons could pull it off, but they did! This is their year, I'm telling you!"

Harry and Draco turn and roll their eyes at each other in unison, laughing at Ron's outrage when he catches them in the act.

"Oh, what do either of you know about Quidditch?" Ron huffs.

"More than you, obviously," Draco drawls, and Harry laughs with him, and everything seems right with the world again. 

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