𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

Chapter 7

      Outside, the sky was fair. Inside, Harry bent over the tail of his racing broom, grooming twigs. Behind him, Draco sprawled on the couch, reading the morning paper. Laughter came from the wireless, floating over the room unheeded.

      It was a fine Saturday morning, and they were going flying, just as soon as Harry finished up. Then they'd have an early lunch, and Draco would visit his parents. The routine had become comfortable enough after a year. Piecing it together had been painful.

      In some ways, it was better that Draco hadn't asked for any explanations. He simply slipped back into Harry's life, a loose skein rebraided. Once--not the first night, but soon after--Harry had started his apology, softly, with hesitance.

      Draco's eyes had sharpened; his mouth had parted. Compressed. In the end, he'd bitten down on his lip--Harry's habit, one Draco tried to curb because it meant chapped skin. Then he'd snapped, "Don't talk about it." He'd gotten up and left the living room, left Harry sitting on the couch, looking down at his hands.

      Harry's hands were busy now, carefully threading new twigs into the tail. Draco's paper rustled over the sounds of the wireless.

      The rustling stilled as a familiar name drifted out. "...pleased to have Kieran Quinlan, the new Special Ambassador to Brazil, with us today. Ambassador Quinlan, good morning."

      "Good morning," came Kieran's voice. "Thank you for having me."

      Harry froze as the program's host asked another question.

      "Brazil is an absolutely lovely place," Kieran's voice replied. "I've lived there for nearly a year now, but even after just a few months--"

      Harry cut it off, whipping up his wand. The next moment, he wished he'd changed the station instead, because the silence was strangling.

      Draco's paper snapped. "Are you done?" The words fell coolly.

      Harry looked over, blood whirling. "Yeah," he said to the lines of newsprint. They started to shift, and Harry turned back to the broom before Draco's face could emerge. Not that it made a difference. He knew Draco's eyes would be accusing, and averted.

***

      Draco's eyes were brightly silver and his cheeks a pretty pink as he grinned at Harry. "Don't beat yourself up over it," he said smugly. "Can't win them all."

      "You undid the fastening charm on my glasses!" Harry protested, following Draco through the back door. "I had to get them back, cast the charm--"

      "Which took all of two bloody seconds," Draco interrupted, placing his broom on its ledge. He took Harry's and did the same. "You were a good three lengths behind me; there's no way you would've caught up. Not that I blame you for hanging back," he added, heading to the kitchen. "The view is rather gorgeous, isn't it?"

      Harry laughed and joined Draco at the sink. "Yeah," he admitted, putting his hands under the tap. "But no messing with my glasses next time or I'm going to have to pull some wandwork of my own."

      "Oh really?" Draco smirked, drying his hands. "What are you going to do, send my trousers floating off into the air? It won't work--you'll have to fly past me to win the race." He sat down at the table, where Dobby had arranged sandwiches and lemonade.

      "What's so hard about that?" Harry teased, sitting down next to him and plucking a sandwich from the platter.

      Draco shrugged and swallowed. "Try it and find out," he suggested, arching a brow.