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“Draco,” Harry said, squinting at the bottle in his hand, “you put this bottle of milk back with literally half an inch left. There’s not enough left to bathe a pixie’s arse.”
Draco didn’t bother to look up, focussing instead on buttering his bagel.
“As befitting a Deputy-Chief Auror your observational skills are top notch,” Draco replied, smiling. “There’s enough milk for your morning coffee though. I couldn’t let you go to work without it.”
Harry stood, and leant over to brush a kiss over Draco’s hair. “You’re entirely predicable, love,” he said, switching on the kettle. “Looking after me.”