Your Fortnightly Drarry Story (Back by Popular Demand)

12. A Case at the Oval, London

'With great power, comes great responsibility, Potter,' Draco drawled the next morning over breakfast. 'You shirked your responsibilities last night by a) making me stay up too late watching unbelievable films about some geeky boy who was bitten by a mutant spider, and b) making me drink too much wine.'

'You brought all that wine over,' said Harry, putting a vial of hangover potion on the table in front of Draco.

Draco grabbed it up greedily.

'Anyway, I thought you enjoyed the film. You said you wanted to watch Spider-Man 2 this morning.'

'So long as you don't mind if I fall back asleep. And I'll need lots of coffee. Proper coffee, not this de-caffeinated shite you've got in the cupboard.'

'I'll nip out and get some. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the bathroom. Do you want anything else?'

When he got back, he wasn't surprised to find that Draco was already upstairs and fighting with the remote control to try to work the television.

'Press the big red button, that'll turn it on,' he said. 'You went home?'

'Only to get my Quidditch kit and pick up some fresh clothes.'

It was funny, Harry thought, that he totally accepted seeing Draco in a t-shirt and jeans (and how damned fine he looked too). He turned away, feeling a little pervy for staring.

'Do you want a bacon butty with your coffee?' he asked as he headed back downstairs.

'Sure,' Draco called after him.

Harry found the day actually torturous, mostly because Draco insisted on dragging up the duvet from his bed and also insisting that Harry join him under it. Worse still, Draco did fall asleep... on Harry, cuddled in against his shoulder. Harry desperately want to put an arm around him and pull him closer but even he thought that was pushing things. They literally spent the day lazing in front of the television and recovering from their hangovers. It turned out that Draco was very hard to drag away from the TV. He found the concept fascinating, especially the different programs that Muggles had produced. Even the News channels captured his attention.

It was a lot later when Harry and Draco met Oliver Wood on the corner of Vauxhall Road at just gone 6pm. Their brooms were disillusioned because they didn't want to shrink them and because Harry insisting on taking Draco on the tube. He'd not mastered the London Underground even though he worked and visited London so often and Harry took it upon himself to teach him.

Harry noted that Oliver didn't even raise an eyebrow at seeing the two schoolboy rivals stood side-by-side. He hugged Harry, shook Draco's hand, and then led them into the Surrey Cricket Club with a brief nod to the groundsman.

'A Squib,' Oliver explained. He flicked his wand at the roof of the pavilion and muttered a quiet spell. 'Shield, so no one can see you from the surrounding high-rises. I'll come back at eight and lock up. Have fun boys.'

They both looked at each other nervously.

'I haven't sat on a broomstick since sixth year,' said Harry.

'Fifth year,' muttered Draco, 'not including last night.'

They both looked at the Firebolts laying on the ground next to them and held out their hands.

'Well, at least we can both still summon them,' Harry said, his lips twitching, 'otherwise it would be very embarrassing.'

'You didn't need to buy top of the range brooms for us both. Cleansweeps probably would have sufficed.'