Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I'm Leaving Without You)

chapter 31

Before Draco, home was just the place where Harry kept his things, but in the years since then it had become so much more. Now home meant takeaway curry and movies on Sunday nights and involuntary scavenger hunts every laundry day and Friday nights out. But Harry especially loved the weekend teas Draco insisted on them having. Weekdays had them grabbing a cup of the horrifyingly overbrewed rubbish the Ministry served in its break room whenever they could spare a few minutes, but each Saturday and Sunday Draco brought out his mother’s tea service and spent twenty minutes in their kitchen, arranging everything just so. He warmed the silver teapot and filled the small jug with milk and the little bowl with sugar. He arranged a plate with his favourite little iced cakes and the miniature scones he bought at the bakery down the block every Friday after work. Harry let him have his fussy teatime ritual without complaint, and in return Draco allowed them to drink from their usual mugs instead of the dainty china cups he’d grown up using.

Harry loved their weekend teas, and in a way he thought it might represent the best parts of their relationship. Tea served from an expensive antique set, but drunk from mugs, one chipped and one ridiculous. At a glance it looked like it all didn’t quite fit together, but it did, and it worked. Just like they did.

Draco carried the tray while Harry brought in the mugs. His thumb brushed against Mug-Harry’s cheek, and Mug-Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Harry set the mug down on the table with a little more force than necessary, but otherwise ignored Mug-Harry’s antics. He stepped back and let Draco arrange things on the table to his liking, enjoying the way Draco’s shirt stretched tight across his shoulders as he reached. They were just sitting down when the Floo chimed.

“That’s probably Mum,” Draco said, standing. “Aunt Andromeda’s birthday is coming up and I know she was making plans. Go on and pour and I’ll make it quick.”

He padded out of the room, his bare feet almost soundless on the wood floor, and Harry poured their tea, adding a small splash of milk to Draco’s mug before adding more to his own mug, along with a generous scoop of sugar. He sat back in his chair, listening to the low murmur of Draco’s voice from the living room Floo. He discovered a small hole at the cuff of his jumper and frowned at where the stitches had started to run. If Draco saw it, he’d use it as further fuel in his campaign to rid their home of Weasley jumpers. Harry made a mental note to ask Molly to fix it for him before Draco noticed it.

“Change of plans, Potter,” Draco said, leaning around the doorway to aim a few warming and stasis charms at the table. The steam curling from their mugs went motionless in midair. “We’ve been called in.”

“Really? On our bloody day off? We’re not even on weekend rotation this week,” Harry grumbled, his irritation at having to drag himself into work today furthered by the fact that Draco sounded thrilled, like being called into work on a Saturday afternoon was the best thing that could have happened to him. Sometimes Harry really hated how much Draco loved his job.

“Well, you know what they say.” Draco paused dramatically, then sang, “Criiiiime waits for no one!”

“You’re bloody awful, you are,” Harry groaned as Draco snickered. But he stood and followed him from the dining room.

“Come on, Auror Scarhead,” Draco called, and the smile he tossed over his shoulder at Harry was so brilliant and eager and alive that Harry couldn’t help but grin back at him. “It’s time to save the world.”