Blackberry Jam (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Ten

December 7th 1941

Harry awoke rather suddenly around the time dawn was breaking, as the back of a hand flopped onto his face with a slap. "Ow-ah," he grumbled sleepily, but he wasn't really annoyed. He rolled onto his side and gave Draco a little tickle in the ribs, which made him jerk awake too with a moan of protest. "Get off me you big lump," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

"I can hardly be expected to control myself when I'm asleep Harry," Draco yawned as he stretched. "Whereas you made the entirely conscious decision to tickle me, so..." He lunged for Harry, digging his fingers through the soft material of his pyjamas as he squealed and tried to wriggle away.

"Mercy! Mercy!" he gasped, trying to get his own hands onto Draco for another attack, but Draco was bigger than him and he was half blind without his glasses on yet.

Draco relinquished after another few tickles though, then collapsed back into the mattress. "Please tell me it's still the weekend?" he begged.

"It's the weekend," Harry affirmed between gasps as he tried to compose himself again after laughing so hard. "A Sunday if you're being particular."

"When am I not?" he asked as he rolled over and got to his feet, and Harry had to agree. Draco always liked things just so, and Harry swayed between making them 'just so' to please him, and completely derailing affairs to tease him terribly.

They bound down the stairs to the bathroom and brushed their teeth side-by-side, jostling for space in front of the mirror with elbows in each other's sides, seeing who could get the biggest foam frothing at the mouth before they absolutely had to spit. They could hear that Mrs Figg was already awake and bustling around her in room behind the closed door, so they wasted no time in jogging back upstairs and getting dressed, happy to be wearing some of their own clothes rather than school uniform.

Harry loved Sundays, especially in winter. Sundays meant cups of tea by the fire and board games. Sometimes, if they were really lucky or the rations had just come in, it also meant cake or biscuits, whatever Mrs Figg had felt like making. But mostly he loved the comfy feeling of being in his own clothes, rather than itchy school ones.

Draco had quite a lot of clothes to choose from, as his mother sent him packages often. Harry knew his mother couldn't spare much from her wages at the factory, but sent what she could with her letters, even if it was only a few pennies. He only therefore had one or two new items that he had procured since moving to Little Whinging, but he didn't mind. Especially seeing as, from time to time, Draco would announce he was bored of a jumper, or that a pair of trousers had become too short, and he would then shyly offer the garment to Harry to see if he might like it. Harry thought maybe that made him feel better when his mother was always sending him money for new shoes, or a smart shirt for best, like it somehow evened out the scales.

But Harry didn't see it as charity. Draco's clothes were excellent, and he liked thinking that he was wearing something that had once belong to his best friend. It made them special in another way, like brothers who passed clothes between them.

In that spirit, his favourite jumper of late was a thickly knitted one of soft wool, green like his eyes with a silver chequered pattern on the cuffs. Draco had always claimed it was too tickly, but Harry felt it was like walking around with a cuddle, and he often wore it on Sundays. "Do you think it will rain today?" he asked as he straightened his glasses and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling a face in the mirror as he did. His hair never behaved the way he wished it would.

Draco peered out the slanted window in the sloped ceiling, assessing the winter's day. "I'd wager it's frightfully cold," he said, buttoning up his shirt. "But the sky is clear. It's more likely to snow than rain I'd say."

Harry contemplated going for a walk in that case; he could get a good one in before lunch if he left promptly. Draco would no doubt want to read more of his adventure book, so would want the peace anyway.

That was one of the differences between them, Harry had observed. Draco preferred reading his adventures, whereas Harry preferred finding them himself. That wasn't a bad thing though, because it then gave them something new to talk about at the end of the day.

"If I go exploring," he began as they thumped down the stairs once more. "May I borrow your hat?" Draco's navy blue cap was extremely smart, and Harry liked to think himself a professional archaeologist or captain of a sea vessel when he wore it out. Plus it was nice and warm, so it meant Mrs Figg would let him stay out longer if he was sporting it.

"Of course," Draco said, a twinkle in his eye. "But you'll owe me two penny sweets."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Urgh," he grunted. "Fine."