Expectant || Drarry

7

The next morning, sometime just before 9AM, Draco is sitting up in bed with the Wireless he'd brought to his room from the library on softly and a book in his lap, when a low, hesitant knock sounds. Draco considers snapping at Potter to fuck off, to leave him alone and not irritate him with more questions, but the burning humiliation of the previous night's conversation withstanding, Draco is unable to find it in himself to resent Potter for it; Potter hadn't forced him to tell him those things. Draco had willingly told him, and with a whole array of details and he'd spent twenty minutes crying about his parents before he went to sleep, but he feels not a shred of anger or resentment towards Potter.

"Come in, it's unlocked," Draco calls out and Potter slowly edges into the room, still in his grey joggers and Gryffindor t-shirt from the night before, hair an abominable mess that made Draco wonder if he rolled about like a dog in bed.

"'morning," Potter says softly, wary and slightly anxious as he surveys Draco still tucked under the covers, leaning back against the headboard.

"Good morning," Draco replies, calm and pleasant. "Sleep well?"

"I-yeah," Potter seems surprised, "You?" His gaze slips to the music-box on Draco's bedside table. Smirking, Draco nods and Potter immediately returns his smile, eyes flaring with something akin to careful hope behind his smudged, lopsided specs, before he looks worried again. "Are you...not feeling well?" he asks, taking one step forward.

"I feel fine, why?" Draco asks, genuinely confused.

"You-Kreacher mentioned you requested he bring you your breakfast in here so..." Potter scratches his shaggy head a moment, "I thought if you're unwell, I'd call 'Mione over or-"

"I feel fine, Potter," Draco hurries to say. "No need to call on Granger."

Potter grins, eyes crinkling up, dimples begging to be filled by Draco's thumb-tips. "I could call on another Healer if you like, Malfoy-"

"That won't be necessary."

"-but we have an appointment with 'Mione tonight, anyway, so-"

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, we're several days overdue actually," Potter informs him. "It's been over a month since your last check-up. Hermione actually reminded me last week but-" he flushes lightly, "I dunno, I wanted to wait until you've settled in a bit before..."

Draco stares as Potter trails off, looking slightly sheepish but still mostly determined as he looks around Draco's room once as if to draw some confidence out of the walls. "Okay," Draco says.

"Oh. Er... Good," Potter nods, turning away, "See you at...lunch, I guess."

"No, I'll come downstairs now," Draco calls out. Potter halts and looks back at Draco in surprise, a tiny smile playing about his mouth. "Tell the elf not to bring up a tray. I'm feeling okay, I'll come down now."

"Great!"

Five minutes later, Draco is still thinking about the grin Potter had given him as he'd left his room. He's waiting for him, Potter, his breakfast still untouched as he flips through the sports section of the Prophet, the daily news and gossip sections laid out next to Draco's plate as usual.

Steadfastly ignoring the paranoia mixing into the warmth in his belly, Draco sits down and throws Potter a little smile of his own when he lowers the paper at once and draws his chair up like Draco, watching rather happily as Draco digs into his omelette and sausages.

"Who won yesterday's game?" Draco asks lightly.

"Harpies lost to the Magpies, two hundred and thirty to one hundred and ninety," Potter looks oddly amused as he speaks, buttering his toast briskly. "Man, Ginny is going to be in a mood for the rest of the week."