Draco wasn't sure what time it was when he woke, except that it was light out and Potter was gone, presumably to work. He made two toaster waffles with peanut butter and jelly, putting them together into a sandwich. He left Potter's too quiet flat, apparating to his apartment block to see if anyone was around.

Samuel was standing at the end of the alley, not terribly far from where Draco landed and was looking down the alley as Draco came around the corner.

"Draco, that you? You fall out of a bin?" Samuel asked.

"No, I did not," Draco said with a sniff.

Samuel chuckled, "Yeah? Just hangin' out in alleyways then."

Draco rolled his eyes, "There's less of a chance of being spotted if I land somewhere inconspicuous. If I'm seen by a muggle using magic-"

"You'll have to erase their memory. I remember," Samuel said.

"Technically, I wouldn't be the one doing it. They have professionals for that sort of thing, and I'd be in prison anyway."

Samuel cocked an eyebrow.

"I have been arrested before. I doubt very much they'd take my word for it that it was an accident," Draco said.

"Having priors it rough," Samuel said.

"Priors?" Draco asked.

"Prior convictions," Samuel said, "As soon as a pig sees you've got a record, you're already guilty as far as they're concerned."

Draco nodded and asked, "What are you doing out here?"

"I was having a smoke," Samuel said, "Tom's been more prickish than usual since he kicked you out. Elle thinks he's looking for someone new to bully. So, I've been extra careful lately."

Draco grimaced.

"Don't do that, mate," Samuel said.

"What?"

"Blame yourself. You have nothing to do with Tom being a prick. He does that all on his own," Samuel said.

Draco laughed faintly, "Yeah, he does."

Samuel kicked at a rock, sending it bouncing out of the alley and up the sidewalk. "...Hate to ask this of you, but would you consider working another monday, tuesday, for me this week?"

"Your boss hasn't hired someone new?" Draco asked.

Samuel shrugged one shoulder, "He interviewed someone, but the paperwork and other shite takes a while apparently. It should just be sorted by next week."

Draco nodded.

"You sure?" Samuel asked.

"Are you? I was exceptional last time, to be sure, but it was a fairly new experience to me," Draco said.

Samuel laughed, "Yeah, if that's what you call never having worked a day in your life before."

Draco frowned at him.

"You did alright," Samuel said, "You were just dead on your feet afterwards. It wrung your scrawny arse out. So if you didn't want to do it again, I'd understand, is all."

Draco crossed his arms defiantly, "I'll only keep improving."

"Alright, alright. Thanks, mate," Samuel said. "So... Elle said you're going straight."

"I can assure you that I remain very bent," Draco said.

Samuel laughed, "You know what I mean."

"I'm sober. I haven't agreed to give up anything else." Draco's brow furrowed, "That reminds me, I left a pack of cigarettes at Elle's."

"Might leave it for a bit," Samuel said, "She's been goin' through it the last couple of days."

"Bad migraine?" Draco asked.

"Might be of one those week-long ones," Samuel said.

"I won't bother her then," Draco said.

"Why'd you stop drinking, then?" Samuel said.

"I've been wondering that lately myself," Draco said.

"Is it that cop-bloke that was hanging around for a few days?" Samuel said.

"It's his fault," Draco said.

"Like a probation thing?" Samuel asked.

Draco shook his head, "He's- It's complicated."

"You fancy him then?" Samuel asked.

Draco baulked, "No."

"I don't really know what makes a bloke attractive, so it was just a thought," Samuel said.

"Everyone has a different type, even queer people," Draco said.

"Ah," Samuel quirked a smile, "Is he your type?"

Draco felt his face going hot against his wishes and frowned, "I don't have a type."

"Bullshite," Samuel said.

"I don't," Draco said stubbornly.

Samuel nodded, "Sure." He stretched and looked across the road, "Must suck, though."

"What?"

"To quit drinking." Samuel went on, "Every now and then, I gotta quit weed for a week to let my system reset, and it sucks."

Draco nodded.

"Like my mind just gets caught in these loops, goin over and over and over again until I feel like I'm gonna lose it, you know?" Samuel asked.

"For me, it's more like I can't stop thinking," Draco said. "And worrying... and remembering. And there's a lot I wish I could just forget."

"Yeah," Samuel said, "Ought to just use that magic of yours to get rid of all the bad shit."

"I wish it was that easy," Draco said.

Samuel smiled, "Mate, you are just making up new rules about this magic thing all the time."

"It's not a new rule. Memory magic is extremely complicated and easy to fuck up. I was just simplifying it for you. Because I'm so kind and understanding," Draco said faux-grandly.

Samuel laughed, "That you are, mate."

Draco stayed and chatted with Samuel for a while before going around to Mary's flat.

"Hello, Draco dear!" Mary said as she opened the door.

"Can I get anything for you, Mary?" Draco asked.

Mary grabbed his hand, giving it a tight squeeze, "No, no, I'm fine. Come in! I'll put on some tea."

Draco smiled and let himself be towed into the small flat. Mary made him sit on her couch, the threadbare material masked by a large crocheted fuchsia blanket draped over the top. The walls were covered in old photographs and sun-faded prints of sheep and cows in idyllic pastoral scenes. An old clock hung over the sink, and its soft ticking mixed with the dusty lavender tinted air to fill the room with its own unique kind of warmth.

Mary set an open packet of biscuits on the little coffee table, "Here. You should eat. You're too thin."

"I've always been too thin," Draco said, taking a biscuit anyway.

"Because you don't eat enough," Mary said, pushing the packet to the edge of the table, bumping into his knee.

Draco smiled, "You always say that."

Mary tutted at him and brought over two mugs, bigger than teacups but smaller than any coffee mug Draco had seen in a shop.

"Can I help-"

"No," Mary said sharply, pointing a finger at him, "You help me enough as it is, young man."

"Mary-"

Mary ignored him, "I'll make the tea extra strong today, shall I?"

"What? Why?" Draco asked.

"You look tired," Mary said.

Draco picked up a biscuit, "I always look tired."

"You know what I mean," Mary said. The electric kettle beeped loudly, and Mary filled up her little teapot, pale pink and painted with chickens and carefully carried it over to the table.

"Do I?" Draco said.

"It's a very hard thing you're doing, quitting drinking. I know it must be hard for you," Mary said, sitting beside him on the couch.

"Elle told you?" Draco asked.

"That nice young woman Naja told me about it. She came by for tea the other day." Mary said.

Draco groaned.

"Everyone talks here, dear. We like to keep track of one another," Mary said.

"You're all a bunch of gossips," Draco said.

Mary laughed, "That too."

Draco took a bite of a biscuit. Mary always got the chocolate covered ones which were one of Draco's favourites, only improved by the addition of jam.

"Well, I'm proud of you," Mary said.

"It's only been a few days. There's still plenty of time to fuck it up," Draco said.

Mary patted his arm, "You can do it. You're a tough one."

"You're probably the only one who thinks that," Draco said.

Mary tapped his arm with her knobbly knuckles in something like a playful punch, "Oh, you-"

"Have you heard from George?" Draco asked, shifting the subject.

Mary smiled brightly, "My Georgey called just the other day! He couldn't talk long," she picked up the teapot and filled their mugs, "He's very busy right now. He and Kaitlyn are moving."

"Moving? From that little flat of theirs?" Draco said.

"Yes! They've been saving up forever and finally were able to put a down payment on a little house," Mary said, clapping her hands together with excitement.

"I didn't know they were trying to buy a house," Draco said.

"I didn't know either. They didn't tell me, the little rascals," Mary said, "They said they didn't want to get my hopes up. Of course, I wouldn't have. I'm just every so happy for them."

Draco smiled, "Well then, tell me all about it."

Draco stayed longer than he probably should have and ended up having a lunch and a dinner consisting of tea, biscuits and, for dessert, ham sandwiches and soup from a tin.

Potter was glaring at the television when Draco apparated back. And turned that glare on Draco before he had even found his feet.

"Where have you been?" Potter asked.

"You're letting me crash at your flat, Potter," Draco said as he walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with water, "You're not my parole officer."

"We made an agreement. You're not supposed to be drinking or sleeping around, we agreed-"

Draco smirked, "I am capable of going outside without immediately tripping over a bottle and falling on someone's cock."

Potter looked briefly embarrassed before putting his serious face back on, "What were you doing then?"

"Talking. With my friends," Draco said.

Potter was frowning.

"Do you expect me to take to bed like a convalescing maiden?" Draco said, tipping his head back with the back of his hand pressed dramatically to his forehead.

"...No," Potter said reluctantly. "It's just... Isn't it better to avoid temptations?"

Draco drained the glass and put it in the sink. He walked over to the couch and sat on the other end, "Potter."

"What?" Potter said warily, looking uncomfortable.

"None of my friends really drink," Draco said.

Potter blinked.

"And I haven't- nor do I intend to- sleep with any of them," Draco said.

Potter grimaced and looked at the television blankly. Finally, he said, "When I first met, err, Sam? Was it? You were smoking-"

"Some weed?" Draco said. "Yes. Samuel smokes weed for his anxiety. Sometimes, he'll share a joint, but I don't ask. Elle has a prescription for some rather strong pain killers, but she's very sparing with them because the NHS are cunts, and she has to fight for every prescription she's got. Mary drinks the occasional sherry as a nightcap-"

"So-"

Draco made a face, "I do not care for sherry."

"But if you were desperate-" Potter said.

"Oh, fuck off," Draco said with a sigh.

"I just..." Potter hesitated, "I don't know."

Draco pulled himself up onto his knees, couch springs creaking as he leaned across the cushion that separated them and huffed a breath of air on Potter's face, "There. Do I smell like I've been drinking?"

Potter's whole face scrunched up in disgust, "Ugh, what the fuck, Malfoy!" He half-pushed himself up, half-fell off the cushions, as he waved at the air in front of his face.

Draco laughed.

"Your breath smells worse than the arse end of a hippogriff," Potter said.

"It's that soup from a tin. There's something not quite right with those things," Draco said.

Potter got to his feet, rubbing the arm he had smacked into the coffee table as he fell.

"I mean, they must do something to it to make it last that long without magic," Draco said.

Potter shook his head, "Are you sure it isn't just something wrong with your mouth?"

Draco gasped with faux outrage, "Rude."

There was a loud ringing knock on the door, and Potter had drawn his wand too fast for Draco to follow.

"Harry? You home, mate?" A muffled, familiar Weasley voice called.

Potter's whole body winced. He mouthed a silent, fuck.

"Knock louder," Granger's voice said.

"But, I just think we ought to have owled ahead, is all."

"If we had, he'd just avoid us again like he has all week," Granger said.

Potter shook himself, taking a deep breath, "Coming!"

And before Draco could even move, Potter wordlessly cast two spells at him before pocketing his wand and going to the door.

Draco froze at the sudden surge of panic, grabbing the front of his t-shirt, heart racing under his ribcage. He looked down at himself, terrified to see what Potter had done, but saw nothing. It had been a disillusionment spell. And a silencing spell to mask his panicked breathing.

"Ron? Hermione?" Potter asked as he unbolted the deadlock, "What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you're not dead," Weasley joked.

"It's not funny." Granger said, "We're worried about you."

"I'm fine. Nothing to worry about," Potter was casually trying to block the door, but he seemed slightly off even to Draco.

Granger's eyes narrowed, and she pushed past Potter into the flat. Weasley was a quick step behind her, his wand drawn, his eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

Weasley and Granger looked pretty much as Draco remembered them. Weasley had somehow managed to become even taller but with just enough muscle that he no longer looked like an emaciated bean-pole. Granger looked, generally, less stressed. Draco always remembered her at school looking harried, with an almost permanent pinch between her eyebrows. Next to the towering Weasley, Granger looked like she had shrunk, but she was probably the same height as before.

"I really am fine," Potter insisted.

"You've been acting strange-" Granger said.

"That's not that weird," Potter said.

"Very strange," Granger clarified.

"And you've taken a bunch of time off, which is good, but yeah, you haven't really done that before," Weasley said. "And Robards blew up at you a couple of days ago, and you wouldn't tell me why."

"And- well, normally, I try to ignore rumours about us since they're usually sensationalist nonsense," Granger added, "but quite a few people claim to have seen you leading someone who seemed hurt or ill into St Mungo's."

"On one of the days you took off," Weasley said.

"It's nothing," Potter said, "I've just been... distracted."

"We've noticed, mate," Weasley said. "That's part of it."

Draco silently clung to the couch cushions, watching everything play out.

"Well, you know, it's been frustrating lately. With no big cases happening, it's enough to drive a bloke a bit stir-crazy," Potter said quickly. "I just needed a few days out of the office."

"And away from Kingsley's press secretary," Weasley said.

"But Kingsley just had you do a press conference; he wouldn't have scheduled another one so quickly," Granger said more thoughtfully.

Weasley blinked and then nodded in agreement.

"I just needed some time off, that's all," Potter insisted.

"You cancelled game night," Weasley said, as if it were the most damning piece of evidence of all, "You never cancel game night."

Granger nodded.

"And something's off..." Weasley's voice trailed off as he looked around the flat again. His eyes lingered on the couch and then stopped.

And Draco realised that the cushions were creased where he was leaning on them. He held absolutely, painfully still, praying that Weasley would just think the cushion had always been squished like that.

Potter followed Weasley's line of sight and quickly tried to step in front of him, "Hey, you're right. Things have been crazy lately; why don't we go out for dinner and catch up?"

But Granger had caught on too and pulled her wand from a little beaded bag on her hip, casting a quick, "Homenum revelio."

Draco shuddered as he felt Granger's magic pass over him, outlining his figure in a faint glimmer that only she would be able to see.

"There's someone here," Granger's wand was trained directly on him now as she backed away from the couch.

Draco knew how this would end, but he couldn't make his body move. All he could manage was to grip the couch cushions tighter until his knuckles ached with the pressure of his fear.

Granger dispelled the charms cast around Draco and gasped. She took an involuntary step back, the end of her wand trembling as it pointed directly at his face. "Malfoy?!"

Weasley had quickly followed suit, his wand trained on Draco far more steadily, a serious expression on his face, "What are you doing here?"

"Hey. Put your wands away," Potter said.

They both glanced back at Potter in surprise.

"Put them away,"  When they didn't comply, Potter pushed past them and stood in front of Draco, blocking their wands.

Draco felt an immediate wave of gratitude and relief wash over him even as he chided himself for it. If he hadn't frozen up like a fucking coward, he wouldn't have needed Potter's help in the first place. He let himself sink down on the cushions, so he was half-hidden by the back of the couch.

"Harry?" Granger asked.

"What's going on?" Weasley said far more suspiciously.

"Nothing-" Potter started.

"That's bull, and you know it," Weasley said, "Has he dosed you with something?"

"No-" Potter said.

"Are you under an Imperius?" Weasley said.

"Are you kidding?-" Potter said.

"He's used them before. On Katie Bell and Madam Rosmerta," Weasley said.

Potter was shaking his head in exasperation, "I can throw off an Imperio, remember?"

Draco wanted to interject that he hadn't used it on Katie Bell, only Rosmerta. He had just wanted her to get the cursed necklace to Dumbledore. He hadn't known Rosmerta would use an Imperius on the stupid Bell girl. He hadn't wanted anything to happen to her. To any of them. He just- He just... he had to do something. He had to show he was trying; he had to-

Draco pressed his forehead into the cushions, plush fabric muffling his erratic breathing. Professor Snape was right there in the school. Draco didn't know he was working for Dumbledore; he didn't know about the promise Snape made his mother. All he knew was that the dark lord's most trusted spy was there in the castle with him, watching him. Watching him fail.

"...-do you mean?!" Granger shouted, making Draco look up.

Both Granger and Weasley had lowered their wands to their sides

Potter winced, "It was an accident, I-"

"You stole his wallet?" Granger said.

"I just-" Potter tried.

"You stole Malfoy's wallet," Granger repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I..." Potter's shoulders slowly slumped in defeat as he said, "...yeah."

Weasley's eyes widened, "Robards."

Potter practically flinched.

"Right after he yelled at you in his office, he lectured the whole department on jurisdiction and procedure," Weasley said. He shook his head, "Mate-"

"Look. I am sorting it out," Potter said.

"You don't just sort out illegal search and seizure," Weasley said. He rubbed his face and shot a glare at Draco through his fingers, "So? What did he do then?"

Draco could just make out Potter's throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Weasley and Granger looked at one another in concern.

"Harry?" Granger prompted.

"Nothing. He didn't do anything," Potter said all in a rush.

No one said anything.

"I just thought-" the words caught, and Potter quickly cleared his throat, "I mean, no one's seen Malfoy in ages, and then he just turns up in muggle London? It was suspicious."

Granger and Weasley's frowns grew.

"He was going around to different bars every night, talking to a different muggle every time-"

"That's just being a slag, Potter. I'm pretty sure it's not against the law," Draco said, speaking up for the first time since they had come in.

Granger and Weasley's attention snapped to him, and Draco did his best not to cringe back.

"Did you ever just think to ask?" Granger said with an exasperated sigh.

"I told him," Draco said sourly, "He didn't believe me."

"Ask the muggles Malfoy slept with, I mean," Granger said, ignoring Draco.

Weasley nodded, "You could have interviewed them afterwards to find out what was going on."

"What if he used a memory charm on them?" Potter said, "or was stealing and leaving charmed duplicates of whatever he was taking or-"

"Did you check for magic trace?" Weasley asked.

"...Yes," Potter admitted reluctantly.

"And?" Granger prodded.

"There was none." Potter went on defensively, "But that didn't mean he could have been slipping them a potion or using muggle methods-"

"Harry," Granger said with a sigh.

"It's Malfoy," Potter said.

Granger rolled her eyes, "While Malfoy may be smart, he's not that clever."

"Hey!" Draco said. "I'm plenty clever."

They ignored him.

"You should have brought it to Robards if you thought he was doing something illegal," Weasley said.

"And you could have talked to us," Granger said.

"I was going to just as soon as I had more evidence," Potter said.

"What did you have?" Weasley asked.

"I- It was-" Potter waved a hand almost helplessly as if to say, It's Malfoy.

Which, while stupid, Draco had to admit there were plenty of others in the wizarding world who would have agreed with Potter.

Weasley sighed and rubbed his temples, "In sixth year-"

"In sixth year, I was right," Potter said fiercely.

Weasley's hand swept up into his orangy-red bristle brush hair, "Yeah, I guess."

"What?" Potter's brow furrowed, "I guess, what?"

Weasley's hand dropped back to his side with sigh, "Mate. It didn't matter, did it?"

Potter frowned in confusion.

"Malfoy joining Voldemort was just, always going to happen," Weasley said, "Lucius Malfoy was his father, and he never stopped licking Voldy's boots. The ferret was always gonna end up working for that lot."

Draco sat back like Weasley had slapped him.

"Whether he had the mark or not wouldn't have changed anything," Weasley said.

The muscle in Potter's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth.

"And you have to admit," Granger said, "up to that point, Malfoy might have talked a big game, but he hadn't managed anything more than being a coward and a tattle-tale."

Draco wobbled on the edge of the couch, almost losing his balance. He grabbed the arm of the couch and pulled himself back, inching further onto the cushions.

The sudden movement caught everyone's attention, Weasley and Granger looking at him like they had forgotten he was there. Draco wanted to sneer at them, say something vicious, but the reflex had barely come into his mind before it was smothered by sheer numb exhaustion and a desperate desire for enough vodka to make this all go away.

"Why is he here?" Granger asked. "Is he blackmailing you?"

Potter's brow furrowed, "What? No. No, his wallet had his rent money in it, and he- he ended up losing his flat so..." he cleared his throat awkwardly, "he's staying here."

Weasley frowned and shook his head, "Just rent him a bed in a hostel for a week or two until you get his wallet back from evidence processing."

Granger was nodding in agreement, "You shouldn't be letting him stay in your flat, Harry. It's not safe."

"So now it's suddenly not safe?" Potter said incredulously, "What happened to him being a harmless coward?"

"I didn't say he was harmless," Granger said sternly, "Just that he didn't seem worth worrying about back then. We're not seventeen anymore-"

"And now we know the kind of trouble he can cause," Weasley added grimly. "I've got the near-death experience to show for it."

Draco could guess how the rest of this conversation would go. Potter would tell them that he offered the money to Draco, offered to help him, get him anything and how he had refused. That he was obviously trying to manipulate Potter somehow, or hurt him or take advantage of him somehow.

He wondered if he should just shrink down his things and leave now to save them the trouble.

"He's staying here," Potter said.

Draco looked up in shock.

"What-" Granger started.

"You can't-" Weasley said at the same time.

"We made a deal, and he's staying here," Potter said, talking over both of them.

"Harry-" Granger said, concerned.

Weasley was shaking his head.

"You can be worried all you like, but this is between Malfoy and I," Potter said firmly.

"You're barmy!" Weasley said in dismay, gesturing at Malfoy, "It's Draco Malfoy!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "And now that's suddenly a valid argument?"

"It is in this situation, when he's living in your flat, mumping off you!" Weasley said.

"Yeah, well, that's part of the agreement," Potter said.

Granger was chewing on her bottom lip, looking worried. "...Harry, would you come to St Mungo's with us?"

"What?" Potter said in dismay.

"I know you can't be controlled by an Imperius, but there are other potions, like love potions, that could-" Granger said gently.

"DO I look like I'm in bloody love with Draco Malfoy!?" Potter said, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

"Like a love potion, similar effects but without the-" Granger started.

"And you wonder why I didn't tell you," Potter snapped.

Weasley froze. Granger's eyes widened.

"Look. I thought Malfoy was up to something, and I royally cocked up. All because I was treating him like it was sixth year all over again. And now you're doing it as well! But it's not, and he's not, and we made a deal between the two of us, and he's staying here!" Potter finished, looking furious and flushed from trying to keep his temper in check.

There was a long beat of silence, filled only by Potter taking a few deep breaths, trying to collect himself.

"Then... you trust him?" Granger asked carefully.

"He's good," Potter said, then corrected himself, "good as in fine." He frowned, "As in, he's alright."

Weasley glanced over at Draco doubtfully.

"He might sit on countertops... and the floor, sometimes, and have a terrible sweet tooth, and be kind of a prat..." Potter shook his head to himself, "And utterly ridiculous but, he's- he's alright."

"Erm..." Weasley said slowly, "that doesn't sound all that different from how he was before."

"Well, it is," Potter said firmly.

Weasley and Granger had moved closer to one another, Granger's shoulder pressed to Weasley's arm, uncertainty radiating off them like a bad fever.

Granger slowly shifted her weight, "...Well, uhm... We know now, so you don't have to avoid us anymore."

She looked up at Weasley, who nodded, "We'll see you at work. On the regular schedule?"

"Yeah," Potter said.

"And game night?" Weasley's suggested.

"What about it?" Potter asked.

"I mean, you don't have to cancel it, do you?" Weasley asked. "Now that the season's finished, Ginny can come around more often-"

Granger put a sharp elbow in Weasley's side with a warning hiss, "Ron."

"What?" Weasley hissed back.

"Don't push it," Granger said.

Draco just barely managed to stop himself from pointing out the utter unsubtly of Gryffindors. Silence had worked much better for him so far. If only he'd been able to hold his tongue when he was younger, he might have avoided so much fucking bullshit.

"...Maybe," Potter said with a shrug.

"Just think about it," Weasley said.

Granger jabbed the elbow in hard enough to make Weasley jump, looking guilty as Granger glared daggers at him.

"I'll think about it," Potter said impatiently, "Now, can you lot leave?"

Granger opened her mouth, but Potter cut her off.

"We can talk about this more later," Potter said.

"Lunch? Tomorrow?" Granger suggested.

"Fine," Potter sighed, trying to get them moving with a shooing motion.

"I'll come up to your floor," Granger said as she walked backwards.

Potter was nodding along.

"We can go out to that little chinese place you like," Granger said.

"Yeah, yeah," Potter slowly pushed the door closed as they stepped out. "See you tomorrow."

"Be safe!" Weasley's called just before Potter shut the door.

Potter flipped the lock and leaned against the door, looking thoroughly wrung out.

They listened in silence to Granger and Weasley's fading footsteps down the stairs, their conversation muffled to a concerned murmur as they got further away.

"You know-" Draco started.

Potter narrowed his eyes.

Draco continued, "-those friends of yours, they seem like a bad influence to me." he sat up and leaned back over the back of the couch.

Potter rolled his eyes.

"-A bit controlling, don't you think? I'm not sure you should be hanging out with them," Draco said with as much faux concern as he could muster.

"Yes. Fine. I get it," Potter said.

He watched as Potter thoroughly mussed his hair with a look of frustration writ across his face. Draco decided to shift tactics.

"Perhaps things would have gone better if I had told them I was your new house elf," Draco said.

Potter managed a confused, "what?"

"Granger always did have a soft spot them. She might have been more inclined to like me," Draco said.

"That's ridiculous," Potter said, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

"I think I could pull it off," Draco said. He cleared his throat dramatically and said in a chipper impression of an elf, "Good morrow, master, can Draco be of service?"

Potter's smile grew, "You'd make a terrible house elf."

Draco screwed his face up into a mournful pout, "Has Draco displeased the master? Should Draco punish himself? Draco could stomp on own foot until you are happy?"

Potter laughed, "No. No stomping of feet."

Draco jumped to his feet, nearly tipping over on the squishy cushions. He caught himself and managed a clumsy bow, "Shall Draco prepare some tea? Or snacks for the master?"

"Get down," Potter laughed, "you're going to hurt yourself, you stupid prat."

He walked over and grabbed Draco's arm, helping him down onto the floor.

"But tea would be nice," Potter said, heading into the kitchen and grabbing the kettle.

Draco absently rubbed his hand over his arm where Potter had held it.

"And I could order something to eat," Potter added, "What sort of take-out do you like?"

Draco hesitated and then joined Potter in the kitchen, "...What's nearby?"