Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy || Drarry

Chapter Twelve

"Get up. Come on. Malfoy, you've got to get up."

Potter's voice cut through Draco's delicious sleep that he had spent several hours staring at the ceiling to earn. It had been Potter's fault, of course. Draco had tried to think about anything but Potter as he lay in bed, but it was like trying not to think of pink elephants.

"No," Draco muttered.

"Yes. You've got a meeting today, don't you? At the mind healing ward?" Potter asked.

Draco grimaced, reluctantly opening his eyes, "What time is it?"

"Lunchtime," Potter said. He knelt down next to Draco's bed.

"What?" Draco frowned, "Why are you here? Aren't you meant to be working?"

"Lunchtime," Potter repeated, amusement lacing his voice.

"Oh," Draco said dumbly.

Potter set a small bag and a large paper cup next to the mattress, "I brought you some of those danish you like."

Draco pushed himself up in surprise.

"And a latte," Potter said, "It's a mocha. I figured since you didn't complain last time you must have liked it."

Draco stared at him.

Potter stared back, "...You don't like it?"

"No! I do," Draco said quickly.

"...Alright?"

"I just... this is...." Draco blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his mind, "What is this?"

"Well, the only thing you ever really asked me for was danish. So I figured that I couldn't get that wrong." Potter said.

"And money," Draco said before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," Potter patted his pockets until he found a few folded twenty-pound notes, "Here."

"I don't-"

"For the shoes," Potter said, "And you could use more clothes. Get something warmer for yourself, yeah? You should have time before the meeting. It's a couple hours off."

Draco nodded.

When Draco didn't take the money, Potter slipped the notes underneath the bag of pastries.

"I've got to get back to work," Potter said. He stood up, shaking his robes straight. "So.... Right."

"Thank you," Draco said before Potter walked off.

Potter's brow furrowed, "I don't think I will ever get used to that."

"What?"

"You. Saying thank you," Potter said. He ruffled his hair and drew his wand from the hostler on his side.

"It's polite," Draco said.

Potter shrugged absently. He rolled the handle of his wand between his fingers in a nervous sort of absent-minded gesture. "Err, and uh, think about what you want for dinner. I can order whatever."

Draco nodded.

"...Right," Potter said, abruptly turning and walking the few steps to his room.

A few seconds later, there was a crack as Potter apparated away.

The danish was just as good the second time, and the latte was divine. It was barely enough to convince Draco to get out of the bed. He went to a second-hand shop to buy a few jumpers and a pair of simple black shoes, dull and scuffed at the toes.