分卷阅读21（1 / 2）

“I know. But you didn’t…have to.”

“I wanted to. Here, catch.” He throws the chocolate frog and is not surprised when Draco catches it easily. He grins. “Ron told me to give it to you.”

Draco is still staring, but now it’s towards the frog. “Why?”

“For you to eat it, of course.” Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s starting to think that all of Draco’s bravado is just a ploy to hide how truly bashful he is. Bashful and Draco Malfoy. Now that’s something that doesn’t go together. “I also swiped some treacle tart from the kitchen.”

“You what?”

He takes a miniature, balled piece of cloth from his pocket, puts it carefully on Draco’s desk, and spells it back to its original size. He unties the knot of the cloth, and immediately, a scent of lemon fills the room.

“Treacle tart. It’s my favourite,” he said, rummaging through his pocket yet again. He produces two forks, and offers one to Draco. “Though you’ve probably already guessed.”

Draco eyes the fork suspiciously, but he takes it anyway. “It’s rather hard to miss.”

“I got some extra for you.”

“Extra? You stole a whole tart.”

“Stole is a very strong word.”

Draco shakes his head in disbelief. He’s still staring at Harry and the tart like they’re going to jump at him. “You and your sweet tooth will one day be the death of you, Potter.”

Harry grins. He missed this—this light, easy banter. He pulls up Draco’s chair and sits himself down comfortably. He likes talking about you, Astoria had said. He looks at the treacle tart, and thinks that it’s time for a story.

“I never had any sweets as a child. The most I’ve eaten was the crumbs of chocolate cake I swiped off my cousin’s plate while I was washing it. That probably explains why I’m such a glutton for it now.”

It works. The suspicion is still on Draco’s face, like he’s wondering why Harry’s suddenly so talkative, but it’s mixed with a sudden curiosity. “Is that why you feel the need to bury your face in chocolate frogs after every meal?”

“Exactly. You’re catching on.”

“That also explains why everything you wore hung off you when we were first years.”

Harry snorts, tearing off a chunk of tart with his fork. “Anybody whose clothes hang off him now isn’t allowed to talk big.” He shoves the tart towards Draco’s mouth, fully expecting him to turn away. To his surprise, Draco takes the fork, cleans it free of tart, and gives it back to Harry.

Harry doesn’t even bother to hide his grin.

Draco rolls his eyes and sits down on the edge of his bed. He pulls the plate closer towards him. “Distracting me with childhood stories in a bid to make me fat, are you?”