Playing with Fire

On the Hunt

Draco was twirling Harry around the dance floor, laughing at Harry's lack of coordination. Harry gave a slight tug to Draco's hair at the nape of his neck, spurring Draco to laugh harder. Harry was opening his mouth to defend himself when something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished crowd. Heads turned, as those nearest it froze absurdly. Then the Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

Harry and Draco threw themselves into the panicking crowd. Guests were sprinting in all directions; many were Disapparating; the protective enchantments around the Burrow had broken.

"Ron! Hermione!" they called as they muscled their way around people.

And then Ron was there. He was holding onto Hermione's arm, and had a frantic energy about him.

"Grab my hands," Hermione had to yell to be heard in all the commotion.

Harry felt darkness pressing in on him; all he could feel was Hermione's hand as he was squeezed through time and space.

When his feet touched the ground, Harry saw they were standing on a busy sidewalk, somewhere in a city.

"We're on Tottenham Court Road," panted Hermione. "Walk, just walk, we need to find somewhere for you all to change." They followed her down the street, dipping into an empty alleyway.

"Um, Hermione, we don't have any clothes,"

Hermione shot Draco a smirk before burying her entire arm into her small bag. "Unlike you, Draco, I am prepared in every situation." Draco scoffed and accepted the dark jeans she passed him.

They changed quickly, Harry resisting the urge to put his hands on Draco's exposed stomach as he took off his shirt.

"I've had the essentials packed for days, you know, in case we needed to make a quick getaway."

"I could kiss you, Hermione,"

"Could you now, Potter?" Draco's eyes were dancing with mischief.

"You two can bicker later, for now we need to get somewhere safe and form a plan," Hermione began walking away, leaving them no choice but to follow her.

'Somewhere safe' was a dingy cafe just across the street. When the waitress asked for drink orders, Hermione used a word Harry had never heard before so he supplied a "same", Ron echoing his agreement. Draco leaned over Harry, asking the young woman, "Do you have oat milk?"

"Yeah,"

"Lovely. I'll do a vanilla oat milk latte with an extra shot of espresso,"

Harry and Ron gaped at him as the worker left the table. Hermione giggled into her hand.

"What was that?" Ron's voice was colored with disbelief.

"What?"

"Wh-Whatever you just said. Sounded like a different language."

"That, Ronald, was a perfectly reasonable coffee order. Merlin, you'd think I shot the poor girl,"

The two were still arguing when their beverages arrived. Harry's hand was resting on Draco's thigh underneath the table, his thumb drawing lazy shapes on the fabric.

Harry took a sip of his drink, squinting at it. He had been expecting coffee but this tasted very sweet and a bit watery. He reached for Draco's cup and frowned at the taste.

"Draco, love. Why is your drink so much better than mine?"

Draco scoffed, opting to drink his latte instead of responding.