Healing

Dark Wizards can't hug

The first thing Draco noticed was the smell: it smelt glorious in the kitchens, of autumnal warmth wrapped up in roast dinners and apple crumble combined with the cleanliness of fresh soap bubbles. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he found himself in a room that was an exact replica of the Great Hall with the eight year tables and the staff table directly below their partners in the room overhead. Elves wove between the tables and dishes flew up and down as they magicked them back and forth between the two rooms. To his right was an enormous kitchen, a hive of activity and noise where dishes were being prepared, cooked, and served before being whisked off to the tables while other dishes were being washed up, dried, and stacked ready for use in the morning. To his left, there was a large inglenook fireplace, by it there were two armchairs and a table. It was here that Harry was sitting, or rather, sleeping, a bottle of half-finished butterbeer and a plate of barely-touched supper on the table next to some library books and scrolls of work.

As Draco made his way towards Harry, an elf appeared by his side and tugged at the hem of his jacket.

'May I help you, sir,' it said.

'I'm just here to see Harry,' Draco replied.'

'Very good, sir, Master Harry is sleeping at the moment but you may wait quietly, if you is wishing.' From the elf's tone, Draco had no doubts that he was not, under any circumstances, to wake Harry, probably on pain on having his food spat in for the rest of his time at Hogwarts. 'Can I be getting Master Draco anything while he waits?'

Draco stared at the elf in surprise, 'how do you know my name?'

'We is knowing everything in this kitchen, Master Draco. Perhaps sir would like a butterbeer too?'

'Thank you, that would be very kind.'

'Very good, Master Draco.'

Draco made his way down to the fireplace and sank into the deep armchair opposite Harry. The elf appeared moments later with an opened bottle of butterbeer for Draco.

'Thank you, er...' Draco said quietly.

'Petal, sir, I is Petal, it is my job to look after our visitors in the kitchen, sir. If you is needed anything further, please be letting me know. Perhaps sir is liking some treacle tart like Master Harry.'

'No thank you, Petal, but thank you for the offer.'

The elf bowed and disappeared, leaving Draco feeling slightly put out because having finally found Harry and plucked up the courage to approach him, the man was fast asleep and Draco neither wanted to nor was allowed to disturb him. He sipped his beer, unabashedly studying the man in front of him. The first thing that was apparent was that Harry had lost weight. Of course, Draco was used to seeing Harry return each Autumn to Hogwarts a shadow of himself. He had heard the rumours about the Dursleys and Molly Weasley's efforts to fatten him up at the end of each summer. He never wanted to believe it then, now, however, he was confused: by all accounts, Harry had spent the summer at his Godfather's house. He wondered if he was incapable of looking after himself or whether he just hadn't bothered. Either way, it was worrying.

Draco took the way his black hair, shorter than it had been in a while, was pushed off his face from where he'd obviously been running his hand through it, and how the shadows of the kitchen made the dark stubble he'd seen earlier seemed even darker and how it accentuated the squareness of his jaw before it angled down to his chin. He noticed how his brow was relaxed, all traces of the scowl and anger from earlier gone. He decided Harry really was too good looking for his own good despite the weight loss. The git, Draco thought, he doesn't even realise it! He rather liked Harry's hair shorter and pushed back like that so it revealed his scar and wondered if he might be able to persuade him to wear it that way all the time, then he'd be able to see those expressive green eyes more clearly. He also liked the way his stubble softened his face. And he decided he really liked the way Harry's eyebrows were really quite straight, accept where they dipped down towards his temples. He didn't dare look at his lips.