Hide and Seek

Chapter 11

Another Monday morning dawned, although Draco had no clue which Monday it was, having lost all track of time several weeks prior. Not that he cared anymore; he'd settled in nicely at the little cottage with Harry. They'd spend their days looking out of the window complaining about the weather, arguing, shagging, having lunch, shagging some more...his life now was a far cry from stalking the corridors of Malfoy Manor on his own. Sure, the Manor was far larger than the cottage, and it was undoubtedly beautiful, but it was a lonely place to be, particularly since his parents now spent most of their time traveling the globe to avoid judging eyes. Here at the cottage, however, Harry was a constant presence, and for the last few weeks, a comforting one. Draco knew that Pansy would laugh at him for living in domestic bliss with Harry Potter, of all people, but it was the closest thing to a happy life that he had experienced in a very long time.

It was just a shame that none of it was real.

He had to remind himself of that every day, that this little hideaway, his sanctuary, was only a temporary thing. Soon enough, the killer would be caught, and Draco could return to his normal life. At the Manor. Alone.

Draco tried not to ponder too much on that. He was currently distracting himself by making breakfast while Harry stood patiently in the living room awaiting the arrival of their weekly supplies. The first week's mishap of dropping their hamper in the pond was a one-off, but Harry always made sure to keep the back door open just in case the error happened again, and he'd have to make a quick dash to the bottom of the garden.

"Smells good," Harry shouted through from the living room.

"Of course, it does. I'm making it," said Draco. "Do you want butter on your bread?"

"Yeah." After a short pause, Harry popped his head through the kitchen door. "Why do you always ask me that?"

"What?"

"Whether or not I want my bread buttered," he explained. "I always say yes, so why do you keep asking me?"

"In case you don't."

Harry frowned. "But I always do."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll stop being so accommodating in future and just butter your bread regardless. But when the day comes that you don't want buttered bread, you'll have nobody but yourself to blame when that's exactly what you get."

"Alright then," Harry shrugged and disappeared back into the living room.

Draco stabbed the sizzling bacon with his fork. He was tempted to burn it just to annoy Harry, but he wasn't inclined to ruin his own breakfast just to get a rise out of him. Just then, the toaster popped and he carefully transferred the burning hot toast onto his plate.

"They're late again," said Harry loudly.

Draco stepped away from the cooker and peered out of the kitchen window. "I don't see anything by the pond."

It wasn't just the hamper with supplies that they were anxiously awaiting. Alongside their weekly delivery, they would receive updates on the ongoing case. Every letter that Robards had written thus far was the same: that there were no new leads and that they were still searching for the killer, which, considering how many enemies Mundungus Fletcher had made over the years, it was taking an inordinate amount of time to interview possible suspects. But the previous week's correspondence had been different. Robards hadn't divulged much, but he had hinted that they were finally closing in on a suspect.

While Draco had initially been pleased at the news, his excitement quickly turned to anxiety. If the Aurors had any clue as to who the killer was, why hadn't Robards shared their suspicions as to who that may be? Harry argued that 'wasn't how things are done' at the Ministry, but that did little to appease Draco. It was his life on the line, after all. He wanted to be kept in the loop about what was going on.