Draco Malfoy, Broken

Chapter 14 - Focus

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14 - Focus

Potter had bags under his eyes and he looked exhausted. His skin was clammy and pale, nearly as white as him. He didn't look that bad... what was it, three days ago? What the hell happened in three days? Draco could also see that he had noticeably lost weight, too. Potter's hair was greasy and unkempt, more than usual. He almost looked as bad as he did, but his mother had nearly force-fed his meals since he got back.

"Potter? What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, but heaved himself up to continue washing the pink meat.

"You look terrible."

"So? You aren't the only one who has nightmares, Malfoy," the Chosen One snapped, making him wince. Potter seemed to notice his reaction and mumbled an apology.

Draco could see that he was irritated, but he couldn't help but ask, "Have you been eating?"

"You're going to ask me that?" he scoffed, tensing in a way that confirmed it.

"I did."

Potter got out a bag that said "flour" on it and dumped some in a bowl. He ignored him.

"Potter?" Draco said. He was stubborn, too.

"Holy Salazar, Malfoy! Let it go," Potter grumbled.

"No."

Potter threw the meat into the bowl, making a huge mess. He let out a breath of exhaustion. "I went on a bender."

"For three days?" Draco said, now concerned about the Savior's mental health.

"I had a big row with Ron and every time I close my fucking eyes..." Potter murmured, pulling the chicken out. "Be surprised how much you don't care when you're sloshed."

"Three days?" he repeated.

"Had nothing better to do... remember? No one owled me... no one called upon me. It was me and my memories," he said, bitterly.

"I know what you mean," Draco said, quietly.

"Of course, you do. I'm sorry," Potter said gently.

Draco shrugged. "I did ask."

"Well, unless you want to play 'who has the worst nightmares' I suggest we end this conversation."

"I do not want to play that," he agreed.

Potter turned on the stove using the round things and put a glob of butter in the pan. It quickly started sizzling and then he put the meat into the pan and left it there to cook. He started peeling oranges, quickly and squeezing juice out of two others, before returning to the frying pan and turning the meat. Draco watched him amazed at the skill and technique of the Gryffindor. With the exception of his sixth year, Potter was a horrid potion-maker. Yet he mixed food ingredients together from memory to create a wonderfully smelling dish.

After twenty minutes, Potter looked at the clock and said, "The library should be closing soon."

Draco looked at the clock, too. Potter put his assembled dish in the oven and set the timer. He then rinsed out the pot the carrots had been in and scooped a cup of tiny white things and added water. He actually measured it. He put it back on the stove and relit the burner. Potter then cleaned the dishes and counter, again without magic, before turning to him.

"That was... interesting..." Draco muttered.

"Yeah, I should probably teach you how to do it. Might be a good learning experience."