Two mornings after the full moon, Draco woke dry-mouthed and aching all over. His head was pounding, and a dazzling shaft of light fell into the room through the slit of his curtains and across his pillow. Draco groaned and raised his blankets over his head, but the tapping sound that had woken him resumed.
“I’m coming in,” called Mother from the other side of the door. And she did.
“I’m sleeping,” Draco told his pillow, then fell into a coughing fit. His throat was as dry as his mouth. It was a side-effect of the wolf’s bane potion.
“Aguamenti,” muttered Mother, filling the glass that sat on Draco’s bedside table. “Drink it.”
“I know what to do with a glass of water,” Draco sat up and shielded his eyes with the crook of his elbow.
“You need to get up and eat and take your headache potion. You won’t feel better until you do.”
Draco sighed through his nose and drained the water in one draught, “You don’t need to t-’
“Come downstairs,” Mother collected the glass and waved her wand to open the curtains wider, filling the room with sunshine. “You have a guest.” And she turned and walked out of the room.
“I. What?!” Draco called after her, but she didn’t look round or answer.
Draco dressed slowly, his arms and legs sore both from the transformation and from the scores of miles he’d run in circuits around the manor grounds and then in the woods around them, when he’d been unable to resist them. He poured a little hair potion into one cupped palm, but after quickly checking his hair with his clean hand and finding it full of leaves and cobwebs, he hastily flicked the hair potion away. He’d have to deal with that particular mess later.
The smell of bacon and eggs grew stronger as Draco descended the stairs, and his stomach flipped over in either anticipation or nausea; he wasn’t sure which. Draco paused at the door to the kitchen. There was a familiar voice leaking under it.
“It’s all right; I’m really not hungry. I had breakfast before I came. Thank you so much for offering.”
“Something to drink then, sir!” insisted Pipsy in her high voice. “Tea or coffee? Or pumpkin juice?”
“Well then coffee would be lovely, thanks.”
“I’ll have the same,” said Draco, pushing open the door to find Harry Potter sat at his kitchen table.
Potter jumped up and reached into his robes at once, and Draco stepped back involuntarily, his heart pounding already.
“This is yours,” said Potter, holding out a wand. Draco’s wand. “I-”
“Stole it from me a year and a half ago. It seems I remember,” Draco made no move to reclaim his wand. “And today you happened to see fit to return it?”
“I’ve been meaning to a long time,” Potter said, guilt passing over his features. He ruffled his hair nervously and sort of waggled Draco’s wand at him. He’d cut his hair quite short, except for the top, which was untidily luxuriant curls as ever. “Sorry, I just. Well. You know.”
Draco shrugged past him and sat down at the table.
Pipsy immediately put a tall glass of pumpkin juice and a plate overflowing with bacon and eggs and and mushrooms and onions and toast in front of him.
“I wanted coffee,” Draco protested.
“Oh no,” Pipsy shook her head sternly. “You know your mummy will not let you miss breakfast after a full moon. I would be dismissed! Be good to Pipsy and eat your breakfast, now. You are looking very pale this morning!”
Draco’s stomach growled loudly, and he decided it would be more embarrassing to resist. He tucked in.
Potter resumed his seat at the table and openly watched Draco eat his breakfast. Draco pretended not to notice. Pipsy brought over Potter’s cup of coffee and a mug of headache potion for Draco, then went to do the breakfast dishes.
Potter sipped his coffee and nudged Draco’s wand toward him again, “Don’t you want it?”
“I’m eating,” said Draco with dignity. “It’s not going to Vanish if you put it on the table and let me have my breakfast in peace, Potter.”
Potter shrugged, “Fine.” He rolled Draco’s wand across the table to him, and it bounced off his plate and sat between them. “Are you ill, Malfoy?” Potter asked suddenly.
Draco willed himself not to flush, “Why? Have you become a Healer since I last saw you?”
Potter himself was looking very well. He’d put on weight since their last meeting when he was gaunt and shaggy with faded, ragged clothing. His face had filled out, and he was neatly dressed and groomed and had evidently finally started plucking his eyebrows.
Potter licked his lips nervously, “What was that she said about the full moon?”
Draco jumped up, upsetting his chair. “Are you completely incapable of minding your own business for ten minutes at a time?!” he snarled.
Potter stood too, “I should go.”
“Fabulous idea, Potter. Get out of my house and don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
“Well. Bye,” said Harry with a little shrug. And he turned on the spot and vanished with a quiet pop.
Draco became aware of a soft dripping sound. He’d tipped over his mug of headache potion and it was dripping down the table onto his slippers. He reached for his wand with a sigh and siphoned the mess back into his mug. In any case, it was good to have his wand back.
ETA I wrote a whole fic about this! You can find it here. The first two scenes have already appeared on tumblr, but there’s like another 25k that’s brand spanking new!
