分卷阅读10（1 / 2）

Harry feels victorious.

And that’s how they spend their time together. Draco gets better in the mornings after that. It still takes him a while to really wake up and be present, but it doesn’t take him hours now.

The days are quiet. Peaceful. Undemanding.

Draco disappears in the middle of conversations, sometimes, but they pick it up as soon as he comes back. Sometimes, it takes a while for him to remember, but Harry waits patiently, every time.

The days pass by in a haze of breakfast and small conversations.

Three weeks after Draco was released from Azkaban, Harry enters his room and peers at the food on the table. “What’s for breakfast today?”

“Banana pancakes.”

Harry beams at the towering stack on the serving plate. Beside it lie a bowl of thinly sliced bananas, another bowl of crushed cashew nuts, and another of butter cubes. “Oh, that’s a lot.”

“I had Binky make extra. You keep on eating mine.”

Harry laughs then, a sudden, surprised bark of laughter. There is warmth spreading in his belly at the thought of Draco thinking of him. “That’s because you don’t eat them. It’s a waste.”

“How am I supposed to eat them when you shove them in your mouth the first chance you get? Fucking manners, Potter.”

Another round of laughter. “Sorry. Sorry, I’ll ask next time.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching and he’s looking livelier and he doesn’t look so sick anymore. Maybe it helps that he can move his arms and fingers better now. He’s been joining Harry eat for the past week, and that’s definitely nicer than Harry eating alone while Draco watched with a sneer of mock disgust. It’s also definitely nicer than eating alone in Grimmauld Place, on the long table with a lot of chairs but no more people to sit on them.

“Well? Sit down. I don’t think you came here just to watch me eat.”

Harry does as told. “No, I came for the pancakes.” He transfers two pancakes on his plate (After three weeks of eating in the Manor, he’s managed to divest himself of his bashfulness with the food), scoops as much slices of banana as he can with his fork, and sprinkles that on top along with the crushed cashews. He unstops the bottle of maple syrup.

“You always come for the pancakes,” Draco replies, getting his fork and reaching over the table towards the serving plate. His nose scrunches up at the sight of the puddle of syrup on Harry’s plate.

Harry ignores that. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m also here to ask how you’re doing.”

“What the hell for?”

“Did you have a good sleep?”