Just Stay There {Drarry}

Chapter twenty-three

Harry danced around the kitchen, humming that song from last night. It didn't seem like it would be one of those songs that just stuck. But here he was. He didn't even know any of the words properly, he was just humming the chorus. "Cheer up sleepy something , oh what can it mean, to a daydream believer, and a somethingggg queen," he mumble sang.

He'd figured he'd bake something for breakfast today.

He wasn't that familiar with the stove's temperature and settings yet, but he was sure it'd soon be second nature. He got out a box of American pancake mix, and started adding the things the box said to.

Malfoy came into the room. Since he didn't bring a trunk like Parkison had, so, he wore a collage of stolen clothing. He wore what looked like Ta-ta's barely worn joggers, Harry's own baggy tank top, and some fuzzy baffies that were probably Parkison's. Altogether, he looked very un-Malfoy-ish.

The Slytherin paused in the doorway, and regarded him wearily. "You're up early," he commented.

"Couldn't stay asleep," Truthfully Harry was dead tired, but once he had woken up, at about six this morning, he couldn't fall back asleep. What had awoken him originally was Malfoy accidentally kicking him in the shin, he wouldn't tell Malfoy that though. "You in the mood for crepes?" he asked, flipping the small batch he had going.

"I'm always in the mood for crepes," Malfoy said, moving to get the kettle out.

"They're American," Harry warned, flipping the finished batch onto a plate.

"American, shmerican, I don't care much as long as it's edible. Although with you cooking them, I'm even weary of even that."

Harry attempted to kick him from his station, but missed. Malfoy tutted, and put the kettle under the tap. He turned it on, and waited until it was half full to turn it off.

"You think Pansy'll want some?" he asked.

"Hell if I know," Harry replied, shrugging. He didn't care that much if Parkison wanted tea or not.

Malfoy grunted, and turned on the tap again, filling it to about three-quarters. Harry rolled his eyes, and focussed back on the crepes. Malfoy put the kettle on the range, on the burner diagonal to the one Harry was using. Malfoy lifted himself up to sit on the counter, probably watching both him and the kettle.

A comfortable silence fell over them, as Draco waited for the kettle to start whistling.

After a while, Harry zoned out a bit, and began to hum again. He mimicked playing a piano with his right hand, while his right flipped over the pancakes with the spatula. It was going to be nice out today. The sun was already shining, and a few birds could be heard chirping. It was the perfect day for a fly on a broomstick, maybe he'd go out later.

"What're you singing?" Malfoy asked.

"Oh, just a muggle song, you wouldn't know it," Harry dismissed, pouring more batter onto the frying pan. They were almost out of batter, and all of the pancakes were sure to be done soon.

Harry glanced over at Malfoy, to find him frowning at him.

"What?" he asked.

"What were you singing?" Malfoy repeated.

"I told you, just some muggle song-"

"Hush," Malfoy held up one finger, effectively shushing him, "I know that you dolt, what's it called?"

"Oh," Harry said, feeling a bit dumb for absolutely no reason, "I actually don't know, Daydreamer something or other. Why'd you want to know?"

"Well, if you're singing it, it must be good,"