trouble

Every morning, Kreatcher would make sure that Harry's breakfast, Harry's mail and Harry's newspaper were waiting for him on the dining table. Today, there were two plates. He got up with a light headache. As he sat, something caught his attention. He pulled the paper to him and dropped it on his plate. Draco Malfoy was making the front page. 

Yesterday, Mr Draco Malfoy, heir to one of the remaining "Pure Blood Families" was judged for having been a member of Voldemort's Army, and having contributed  to the assassiation of Albus Dumbledore. It came as a great surprise that his defense relied on one mass argument : nothing less than Harry Potter's own testimony. Surely, the voice of the Chosen One has spoken, and Mr Malfoy was released on strict conditions later that day. Harry Potter hasn't given us much to know about him since the end of the war, …

Aark, Harry thought. He didn't want to worry about what the Daily Prophet had to say. Next time he'd want to hear what the press has to say about him, he'd just read the Quibbler. It'll boost his ego. He thought about Draco though. At least everyone knew he'd been cleared. But… 

He heard some noise in the living room. Grabbing his mug, he went by the window to check what was happening. It was an owl, and it dropped three letters into his hand before fleeing back where it had come from. He took them into the kitchen to read them there. 

The first one was speckled with coffee, and he was pretty sure a few breadcrumbs fell out of the envelope. He unfolded the letter. It was from Ron. 

What the fuck Harry.  

Nothing else. Though, it was attached to a ripped piece of paper that Harry recognised to be the article he was reading a few moments before.

He opened the second letter. This one was neat, written by a firm, recognisable hand, on solid paper. 

Dear Harry, 

I sure hope you are well. You didn't answer yesterday evening's letter, so I was a little worried. 

Harry looked at the mail on the dining table. There was a letter from Hermione, who had been writing to him one to two times a day. She always found so many things to tell him. He on the other hand, hardly ever knew what to answer. 

You must know why I am writing to you so early in the morning. Of course when the Daily Prophet arrived, the whole house got torn upside down by Ron. I tried to convince him to use my paper but he didn't want to bother rewriting his letter. How many times will I have to tell him "you don't write while you eat". Surely you agree with me. Molly does, of course, but I don't think that's going to make him change his mind. Anyways. You know what I am writing to you about. Why didn't you tell us you were going to Malfoy's audience ? And what on earth did you say to make them release him ? I'm looking forward to discussing that with you, I'm counting on you to enlighten the situation for me. 

Have a very nice day, and WRITE BACK ! 

Hermione.

Harry was surprised to see his friends upset. There was still some mail but he didn't want to open it now. Just to focus on those two had not made his morning easy, and the sight of yet another purple enveloppe positively turned his stomach. He did look at the clock though, and almost choked when he saw that it was already two o'clock. He had thought it was at most ten in the morning. For a few minutes, he wavered over going to find Draco wherever he was in the house. If he was still even here. Eventually, as his table was cleared, he went looking for him. Drago had settled for a room on the second floor, near Harry's own. It was Regulus's, and Harry stopped for a second only. He could see why he had chosen it, he had visited all the other rooms : they were cold, and dusty, and fucking terrifying, and filled with disapproving portraits that made you understand quite clearly that you had nothing to do in here. Regulus's room wasn't warm as Sirius's, but it felt more like you could live in it. You could tell it was a teenager's room. Harry wondered what Draco's room looked like in big fat Malfoy Manor. What he'd seen of it wasn't so warm either. 

He put his hand on the handle of the slightly opened door to see if he was still in there. The light barely came in through the dark heavy drapes, so he squinted. Malfoy was still sleeping, on his side, rolled up in the covers. Even asleep, he seemed worried. It was like his eyebrows had changed their shape to a constant frown, his face was contracted, he was breathing fast. Harry watched him for a little while, trying to associate him with the boy he'd hated so much. He couldn't find it in him. The new Malfoy made him feel sorry and pity and… responsible. Like for now on, he had to do what he could to help him. Harry thought again about that image that had come to him a few times the day before : Narcissa, leaned over him, asking in a whisper if her son was okay. He owed his life to Narcissa. A lot of people did. In a moment where all hope seemed lost, she had saved him. And he would probably never see her again. The least he could do was make sure her son was safe. Even if her son was a fucking arsehole.

"Oh for fuck's sake !"

Draco was holding a hand to his chest, recovering from the surprise. 

"What do you think you're doin', Potter, creepin' on people sleeping in the shadows like that !"

"I came to see if you were still there. It's the middle of the afternoon."

"Really ? I'm still so tired."

"Used to oversleeping Malfoy ?" 

"Shut up will ya."

He sat up and proceeded to rub his eyes. Doing so, he entered a beam of light that reflected on his blond, messy hair and on his bare shoulders. Harry noticed that he'd been sleeping in his underwear, and realized he didn't have any pajamas. Or clothes, for that matter. He'd only brought what he had on him yesterday evening.  Draco spread his arms and turned to Harry, who couldn't help but notice the mark tattooed on there.

"Will you stop lurking, you pervert. I'd like to get up." 

"Calm down, princess."

He closed the door and went down to the living room. Feeling a bit more awake, he thought he'd write a response to Hermione's letter. He sat at a very garnished though very strict secretary, found some piece of paper and a quill. 

Dear Hermione, 

I'm glad to hear you are okay. You'll tell Ron that I won't answer his note, because I don't think it required an answer. About the Malfoy situation, it is all very complicated. 

He recalled the young man getting dressed up a few floors over him. Recalled the bare shoulders. Then chased the thought from his head. 

I didn't tell them anything you don't already expect. Honestly, I think all the fuss was only about my being there, I didn't even talk that much. He actually had a strong defense. I didn't tell you because I didn't know why I was asked to go to the Ministry until I was in the courtroom. So, nothing to worry about. 

Harry left his pen for a few seconds. Should he tell her that Draco had spent the night. Probably. Did he want to ? She'd ask for an explanation, and he really didn't want to give her one. He hadn't told her about what had happened in the forest. He didn't want to talk about it. But he knew you couldn't keep something secret from Hermione. 

He had nowhere to go too, so I offered him to spend the night. I'll explain later. Tell the Weasleys I said hi. 

Harry

That should do, he judged, and he folded the letter in four. He had no more enveloppes, and made a mental note to go buy some on Diagon Alley. Footsteps came from the stairs and moments later  Draco entered the room. He had washed, and wore his black suit a bit negligently. Harry wondered if, even at home, he had anything else than black suits. 

"I had a shower, hope you don't mind."

"Mmh, that's fine. Suppose you don't have any other clothes."

"Do you have a problem with my clothes ?" 

"Don't you want to get some other ones ? At least pajamas ?" 

Draco blushed a little. A vague, pale rosy stain on his pale white skin. Pale, white, and wet skin. Water was still dropping now and then from his hair on his neck and forehead. Harry observed it run from his jaw to disappear in the collar of his shirt.

"I'll see." 

He noticed the dining table, with the food, the paper, and the mail. He looked at it with envy. 

"Food's for you, the house elf must have smelled your pure blood coming in. Trust me he wouldn't have done that for Ron or Hermione."

"Great !" He said, throwing himself at the food. 

Harry frowned. He knew he was probably talking about the food, but he thought he had to establish some ground rules. 

"If you're gonna be staying here, the least you can do is not insult my friends."

"Am I going to be staying here ?" 

Harry's turn to blush. 

"I think, as general advice, you shouldn't insult muggleborns. Or the Weasleys. Ever, obviously, but less than ever now that we won the war."

Draco didn't seem to know what to answer, he had his mouth full.

"I wasn't… I meant great about the food..." 

His eyes stopped at the Daily Prophet on the table. He didn't make the face you expect someone to make when they see themself at the front page of a national newspaper in handcuffed. Like Harry, he seemed to be used to it, and he didn't seem to be very fond of it. His mouth opened slightly, but he closed it quickly, throwing a glance at Harry and brushed it away without losing countenance. He made no comment, neither did Harry. He just went on eating his breakfast, just a bit less eagerly. 

"Didn't feed you well at the Ministry ?"

"It was shit. When there was anything to eat."

"What do you mean ?" 

"The place is overcrowded. Most of the Death Eaters were caught at Hogwarts and sent straight to Azkaban, but some managed to escape. They're being hunted down by the aurors and dropping like flies. I don't know how many aurors they are but they kept coming in with more convicts every, like… two hours. Rather impressive."

"Is that how they catched you ?" 

"Me ? No. Kingsley handcuffed me at Hogwarts but they didn't send me cause… you know I helped you and there were people to prove it. They decided to go easy on me."

Harry nodded. 

"Don't you wanna open your mail ?"