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Harry entered the living room, feeling exhausted and done with the day. He had been working on a strenuous Auror case and was longing for a warm bed. Draco was sitting on the couch, or well, it was more a slouched, seemingly uncomfortable position. One Harry did not often find his partner in.
“Hey babe,” Harry said casually as he dumped his coat on the rack. Draco wore a pensive expression on his face; his eyes were pinched and his brows were furrowed.
“If you were born deaf, what language would you think in?” Draco asked quizzically. He kept his gaze on Harry, who appeared to be puzzled by Draco’s strange question.
“What? Why?” Harry asked him. He took his shoes off and joined Draco on the couch.
“There is no ‘why’ question to my problem. Think about it; it doesn’t make any sense.” Draco said to him as he shook his head in confusion before Harry placed an arm around him.
“I’m not sure what has gotten into your head, but-“ Harry’s eyes fell upon a teacup that rested on the arm of the couch, right next to Draco. A wave of realisation washed over him paired with a feeling of amusement that spread through his chest. Evidently, Draco had grabbed Neville’s ‘experimental tea’, instead of Earl Grey. Harry took a deep breath in order to prevent himself from snickering.
“Draco, love,” he started and turned himself towards his partner. Draco’s eyelids hung a little lower than usual, and there was something contemplative about the look on his face.
“Do you remember what kind of tea you made?” Draco stared at him and frowned. He remained silent a little longer than expected, so Harry snapped his fingers in front of him. Draco blinked rapidly as he came back to reality, and focussed on Harry.
“Earl Grey?” He asked with uncertainty hanging on his voice. Harry smiled, a giggle tickling inside of him. It was adorable to see Draco so oblivious to his surroundings and actions in comparison to his usual wittiness.
Harry leant over him and grabbed the empty teacup from the armrest. He brought the cold mug to his nose and sniffed.
“Does this smell like Earl Grey to you?” Harry brought the mug towards Draco’s nose. However, Draco leant forward at the same time Harry moved the mug in his direction, which caused Draco to bump his nose against the mug and yelp in surprise. Harry couldn’t help but to snort at the silly incident.
“I don’t think so?” Draco said hesitantly. He sighed in frustration and fell back into the couch, still rubbing his nose.
“Do you remember the project Neville was working on at Herbatory Logistics?”
Draco rubbed his eyes and eyed him exasperatedly.
“Stop querying me,” Draco growled. “Merlin, I don’t know what’s happening to me but if you want to do something useful instead of asking all these meaningless questions, it’d be nice if you could make me some food. I’m starving.” He moaned and stared sheepishly in front of him. Harry raised his brows, surprised by the blunt command. He placed the mug on the table and took hold of Draco’s hands.
“You’re as high as a kite,” Harry chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of Draco’s face.
Draco stared blankly ahead, pondering Harry’s explanation.
“I am?” He responded weakly, and Harry could see the stress shaping his features. Draco straightened and turned to Harry.
“Is that- is that a bad thing?” Draco’s eyes went wide, giving him a childlike appearance.
Harry shook his head.
“Not necessarily. It could be when you’ve still got a whole day ahead of you.” He stated matter-of-factly.
Draco seemed to be relieved by Harry’s answer as a lazy smile spread over his face. Harry leant back in the couch too, and pulled Draco a little closer to him.
“Could you still make me something to eat, though?” Draco asked innocently, caressing Harry’s hand with his own.
Harry sighed.
“How could I refuse, my damsel in distress.” He rose from his seat, eyeing Draco knowingly, and walked towards the kitchen.
“Something with pickles! I’m craving pickles.” Draco called out his last request.
Harry laughed softly to himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Pickles, of all things? He rummaged through the fridge, grabbed a jar and screwed the cap off.
When he returned to the livingroom, Draco was fast asleep, curled up on the couch, a peaceful expression on his face. Harry shook his head as he stared at the plate of pickles. What was he going to do with them now? He didn't even like pickles.
With a sigh, he put the plate aside and settled in on the couch beside Draco. He chuckled, wondering how his life had led to this moment.