[thin floors and tall ceilings part ii]
Harry just laughs, biting into the sweet doughy texture and sighing in satisfaction. There's only the sound of chewing for a minute or two, just long enough to be left with sticky fingers.
“When did you go out?” Harry asks, tempted to lick his fingers but resisting valiantly. He’ll save it for a day when annoying Draco will be of some strategic value. Draco will be proud.
Draco stands and steps over to the kitchen sink, moistening a napkin under the faucet before tossing it back for Harry to catch. The sound of the water running muffles his reply, but Harry can still make out the words.
“I got another swift-post from the solicitor.” The water cuts off with the turn of the faucet, and Draco busies himself trying his hands, but Harry can still see how tightly he holds his jaw as he tries to keep the emotions off his face.
“Did you hear from—” he begins, but Draco waves a hand in the air, cutting of his question. They both already know the answer anyway.
“Mother insists she’s well enough,” Draco says. The way he crumples the paper doughnut bag belies his tone. The bag goes into the recycling bin, and Harry reaches for Draco as he steps past, pulling him close. Draco holds himself stiffly for a moment, before slumping on Harry’s shoulder.
“If you want to go home,” Harry says, but doesn't the sentence. He knows Draco’s answer.
“I just need a little more time,” Draco sighs into Harry’s messy hair. “I haven't been letting things slide.” His voice rises the smallest bit at the end, something that not many people would catch, but Harry is one of them.
“You know you haven't been,” he reassures Draco, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. His mouth is still sweet from the doughnut. If a walk to the doughnut shop and a kitten video marathon have made Draco feel even a little bit better, then Harry doesn't want to think about how he must have been feeling earlier.
“I know,” Draco says, and hugs back before gently disengaging himself from Harry’s arms. “Thanks for reminding me, again.” Then he cuts through the seriousness of the moment by nudging Harry with a sharp elbow, before making a dash for the couch.
“Hey!” Harry shouts after him in mock disgust. “It's my turn to pick a show!”
alchemicink, you’re up!