分卷阅读10（2 / 2）

“Don’t be so polite around me. It’s disgusting.”

Harry shoves pancakes in his mouth. He’s learned that Draco tries to be difficult on purpose, and the best way to deal with him when he’s being a slimy sod is to ignore that he’s being a slimy sod. He thinks he should be awarded for his discovery and canonized for his patience. “Did you have a good fucking sleep?”

And then Draco laughs.

Just like that, any irritation that he might have felt gives way to a certain kind of wonder at seeing Draco Malfoy laugh so unguardedly. Harry realizes he’s staring.

“Yes, I did. Thanks for asking.”

Harry swallows the pancakes down, hard. “It shows.”

“Yeah. I might take a walk in the garden today,” Draco says, smiling slightly as he turns to look at the budding flowers.

It’s worrisome how the words are out before he can stop them. “Can I come with you?”

Surprise paints Draco’s face, and it makes him look innocent, eyes wide open and eyebrows raised. After a while, Draco returns to his pancakes and says, without looking up, “Yeah, whatever, Potter. Do what you want.”

But by the time they’ve finished eating their breakfast, he is gone again.

Harry takes hold of his wheelchair and pushes him around the garden anyway.

The next day, Harry comes and Draco’s already in the middle of the garden, his wheelchair forgotten a distance away among a shrub of pink carnations.

Harry stops, his greeting dying on his lips.

It’s a big garden, more spacious than Draco’s room. The flora is lush, rich, and neatly trimmed, and colour blooms in every corner. There are roses, and lilies, and forget-me-nots. Carnations and lavender. In the middle of the garden stands a fountain, water dripping down the marble eyes of the woman standing proudly at the centre of it. The snakes on her head had told Harry who she is since day one.

And there, under the bright blue sky, stand Draco Malfoy, wearing plain trousers and a sweater, looking at the flowers with a small smile on his face.

Since the war ended, Harry’s had time to clearly think and understand the nature of why he’s so obsessed with Draco, really. He thinks Ron and Hermione understands, too, but are just waiting for him to figure it out for himself. He’s figured it a long time ago, actually, but figuring it out and accepting it are two different matters.

But it’s such a blow to the chest every time he comes across something like this, these moments that make his cheeks warm and makes it hard to breathe and even harder to look away.

Draco sees him, notices him staring, and turns an amused smirk in his direction.