I will come back to you

Chapter Seventeen

He was familiar with Malfoy’s sardonic tone and the antagonistic words. He was familiar with the retorts. Or the venom laced in the retorts. He was sort of familiar with the forced civil tone. He wasn’t, however, familiar with a sincere thank you out of Malfoy’s mouth. “Oh wait – It’s a dream, isn’t it?”

He was angling for a quip – for the familiar comfort of antagonism – but it seemed to have infuriated Draco. Perhaps it was rather daft to push it with Draco Malfoy, but the sincere words had caused a surge of panic within him.

“Oh why – weren’t anticipating a thank you?”

“No,” Harry said with a shrug, eyes drifting to a distance to the seagulls perched on stones close to the shore – a vigil over a grave – it was sort of disconcerting. “Isn’t it a rule in your code of conduct?”

“A rule in my code of conduct?”

“Yes,” The confusion was clear on Draco’s face, which was sort of comical. Writing a code of conduct for Draco Malfoy was an idea he could entertain. “Rule One: Never thank your overachieving favourite Gryffindor.”

“Oh no, we’re not writing a code of conduct.” Draco whispered with a soft groan and a variation of curses in French. “and you, Harry Potter, aren’t my favourite Gryffindor.”

“Rule Two: Contradict the fact that Harry Potter is your favourite Gryffindor.”

Draco’s mouth simpered; a sculpted, pale eyebrow artfully raised. It was clear that the blond was pleased with the course of the conversation. “Rule Three: Pretend you aren’t interested in a conversation about you.”

Draco was appeared to be intent on continuing the dour semblance, yet the corner of his mouth upturned. The laugh was faint, laced with a soft hum of mirth. “I can’t contradict that.”

“Oh, of course, you can’t.” Harry said, a small puff of air forming in front of his face. “I can’t –” Draco quivered and drew the cloak closer with a faint chatter of teeth. “Draco –”

“Oh, shut up, you fucking prat.”

The code of conduct was the perfect distraction. “Rule Four: when you’re cold and the Chosen One points it out, order the fucking prat to shut up,” He said with a snort. “now, if you’re finished, can we head in?”

“Your rib was –” Draco said with a sarcastic tone, squinting in place with a low grunt. “– fractured, wasn’t it?”

Perhaps it wasn’t fractured, but the pain was lancing on one side. “It’s not –” The words were cut off when he turned to one side, perching up with a hand placed on the rough bark, rising to his feet. “Oh, fucking –” A sharp pain flared to his side, causing him to wince, “I can’t figure out if it’s fractured or not.”

Draco was sprawled on the sand, a frown creasing his forehead, mouth curled into a well-practiced smirk, yet the malevolent glint wasn’t present in his eyes. “Need a hand, Malfoy?”

“Oh, the Chosen One would deign to touch Draco Malfoy?”

He whispered a confused ‘sure’ with a small shrug, holding out a hand, which was sort of – odd – Harry Potter didn’t offer Draco Malfoy a helping hand up. Draco was rightfully sceptical. “Come on.”

Draco clasped a hand in Harry’s, who hauled the blond to his feet. “Rule Five: Consider whether Harry Potter would leave you face-planting in the sand before you allow him to pull you to your feet.”

“Oh, you’re writing the code of conduct now?”

“It’s my code of conduct,” Draco said with a slight quiver to his voice. He unlaced the entwined fingers with a curse and said, “why can’t I write it?”