Baton Rouge

- 15 -

The bedroom door swung open just as Draco placed a pot of steaming hot pasta on the dining table in the living room. He lifted his head and gave Granger a quick, appraising look. Her eyes were still red, but at least she didn't look anymore like she was going to smack his face. Draco fought hard to keep the grin from creeping back onto his lips and quickly turned his attention to the pasta. He placed two plates on the tabletop and levitated the saucepan over to him.

Granger had approached the table while he had been occupied and was now standing kind of lost next to one of the two chairs.

Draco looked at her again, but now took his time with it. She had put on a thick and oversized sweater, which was no surprise considering how thin she was. Underneath she was wearing the same tight black leggings as the night before. Although she was still trembling slightly, she was looking better than she had in the bathroom, and her eyes were fixed hungrily on the two pots.

„You can take a seat. Are you hungry?" he asked and Granger flinched even though he hadn't spoken loudly.

"I'll probably throw up again as soon as I eat something," she said, her voice alternating between a provocative and a resigned undertone.

Draco knew that Granger did have an appetite, but he suspected she wouldn't admit it. However, he didn't want to use the spell she hated so vehemently to force her to eat as much as he thought necessary. So he carefully chose his words and braced himself for the supposed discussion.

"But maybe not. It's worth a try," Draco said, deliberately disinterested, pushing back his chair to drop into it.

Surprisingly, Granger immediately followed suit and sank down at the table as well, although he hadn't formulated his words as an order. Draco had expected some kind of objection, but it didn't come, which not only surprised but also unsettled him for a moment.

He arranged the pasta on the plates, deciding on a smaller amount for the brown-haired witch, and gave her a cautious look. "Sauce?"

Granger nodded and he scooped some from the second pot onto her plate. She picked up one of the two forks and Draco quietly wished her a good appetite.

„Thank you," she murmured, and they began to eat.

Draco's sauce had turned out good, and by the look on Granger's face and the speed with which she was eating, he could tell that she agreed. After a few minutes she had scraped her plate, and cast a longing look at the pasta pot.

"Have some more, if you want," Draco urged, faltering at the soft undertone in his voice.

Fuck. Although she was in drug withdrawal, she was far from requiring nursing care. He leaned back and waited until Granger finished. She licked her lips and pushed back her plate.

"That was delicious," she commented on the meal, sounding so surprised that Draco had to laugh.

"Well, you didn't expect that. But when you live alone, you eventually learn how to cook without poisoning yourself." He winked and watched a small smile bend Granger's lips. „You think you'll throw up?"

She shook her head and put a hand on her stomach. "At least not now. Maybe later," she sighed, getting up to take the plates to the kitchen.

Suddenly, it was peaceful, and once again Draco marveled at how quickly the mood between them could change. Yesterday they had been at each other's throats, about two hours ago Draco had kissed Granger and she had hit him, and now they were sitting here - eating pasta as if they had never done anything else.

He could hear Granger in the kitchen, but he needed a few more minutes to himself. Blaise's words buzzed through his head once more. Take the opportunity. When do you ever have a witch in your apartment who has to do everything you say? Nothing better can actually happen to you.