I Can't Face The Dark Without You

Chapter 7

AN: Sorry for the wait. Work + being ill = slow updates. Duh, I'm bad. Thank you for all the alerts, faves, and reviews! Special thanks to blubber, MoonDaughter6 and Firevein for your reviews! I really appreciate any and all feedback – it brightens my day

Draco bounded downstairs, looking forward to eating for the first time in a very long time. His stomach, now totally empty, wished for food, anything to fill the gnawing hunger inside of him. He pasted a false grin onto his face as he entered the dining room, and sat back down, leery of the harsh wood on his sparse posterior. He sniffed the air quietly, noting with delight the delectable scent on the air. Tiramisu was an Italian delicacy among wizard and muggle society alike, seemingly irresistible despite the usual magic-muggle divide when it came to food.

Harry looked at Draco, pondering the reason behind the sudden change in his lover's demeanour. Before he had left for the washroom, Draco had looked to be in serious distress, not to mention the fact that his gait looked pained. Now he seemed rejuvenated, full of life. Must have been one hell of a bathroom visit, Harry thought wryly to himself as he served them both a slice of the appetising dessert. He passed Draco his plate before banishing the excess dishes back to the kitchen. This kind of menial labour was usually reserved for the elves (a fact that irked Hermione), but Harry wished to be romantic, and romantic in his book did not include a wealth of miniature slaves traipsing in and out of the room constantly, no matter the excellent service they may provide along with the disruption. So, tonight, just for the night, Harry was Draco's elf.

Draco took a tentative bite of his pudding, hoping against hope that it would taste better for his change of heart. Mercifully, he was right. The lasagne had tasted depressingly like stewed knitting thanks to his mind and the ketones, but this tasted simply superb, the intricate flavours exploding on his tongue, surprising in their subtle complexity. Draco decided he liked Tiramisu, and without further ado he cleaned his plate. Entirely. In fact, it was only his very deeply ingrained sense of propriety that prevented him from licking the damn thing. He leaned back in his chair with a wonderful sense of completion, of satisfaction. That dessert had been the best thing he had ever eaten, and for the first time in a very long time, he had spared no thought to the calories, to the fat content. He was stronger than his mind, and for that he was thrilled. He was full, he was happy, he wasn't hungry, and he had a (hopefully willing) Potter to seduce. Life was good. Very, very good.

Harry looked at his dragon, and smiled. He hadn't seen Draco look so happy in a while, and the little smile that adorned his features thrilled him, and was surely mirrored upon his own visage. He hoped Draco would join him that night, and give Harry another chance to show his adoration and devotion to his beloved Slytherin. Something had changed in Draco, and it was something for the better. That alone made it a night to truly remember.

AN: Good? Bad? Corny and revolting beyond description? Review and let me know please! Constructive criticism is especially valued, as are any encouragements. X