Canary Creams and New Yellow Paint - (DRARRY)

Chapter Eight

After several days and countless inquiries from reporters hellbent on draining his last dregs of dignity from him — as well as one from Blaise simply reading, "Yikes" — Draco decides that maybe Madam Pomfrey was right after all. He should talk to Potter about all this. Because they need to figure something out. Right now.

Only, the sole evidence he has for Potter being at the centre of this is that Potter is always involved when something goes awry. If there's a problem, he's got a hand in it.

And yet he won't respond to any of Draco's bloody letters.

Potter doesn't even answer when Draco tries to call over the Floo Network, resulting in Draco getting very rudely spat back onto his arse.

So, he goes to visit Granger.

And she says, "Why don't I take you by his house?"

"... Sorry?"

She looks up from her desk, where she's straightening files. "Promise not to kill him?"

In every twist and turn of events that he imagined, this wasn't what happened. He'd sort of expected her to just ... manhandle Potter into replying, or something. Perhaps trick him into arriving at a public location where Draco is waiting to swoop in. Not this.

"I was planning to see where the evening took me. But sure."

"Brilliant."

~

Draco stops her just outside the door. "Granger, why are you doing this?"

She gives him a considering look. "I think Harry keeps to himself too much. Every once in a while, he needs a bit of pestering."

She knocks on the door and waits.

He stands there bouncing on his toes, feeling horribly out of place. There's a cold nip in the air biting at his ears and he wishes it wouldn't look so foolish to wear a hat at his age.

Potter probably wears hats.

No one answers the door, so Granger just walks right in.

He hesitates. This doesn't feel right. It's got to be a huge violation of Potter's privacy. On the other hand, he doesn't care.

Draco follows her into the house.

The foyer looks more like a storage shed than a human dwelling. The dark, wood-panelled walls are stacked high with boxes, leaving just a small path in the middle to step through.

Granger leads him to what must have once been the sitting room, a dank, musty place that leaves him feeling clammy.

"Harry," she bellows into a doorway beyond, aiming her voice up a set of stairs, "someone's here to see you!"

She turns back to him, looking flushed and a bit anxious, but already making her way to the front door to leave again. There's a loud crash from above, followed by a fair amount of banging, and he looks to the ceiling, staring at it for a moment before shooting out a hand to stop her as she walks by. "Wait."

Granger looks at the fingers clutching the arm of her coat, and he, self-consciously, lets go.

"Granger, what aren't you telling me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Clearly you're leaving something out. Why'd you really bring me here?"

She looks him right in the eye. "Because you asked."

"But—"

"I've got to run." She stops halfway to the door, turning back again. "Just don't Vanish anything while you're here, okay?"