Happy Birthday, sesheta_66!
Title: Victory Reprised
Author: scrtkpr
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 2,415
Summary: The course of love does not run smooth. (Or, as you will likely remember it, "That one where Harry and Draco are at a dude ranch.")
Author's Note: Written as a birthday gift for sesheta_66, as a thank you for the birthday ficlet she wrote for me in September. Yesterday she gave me the prompt of Harry and Draco at a ranch. After much pondering on how I might accomplish that, I decided to write it as a continuation of the story she wrote for me (linked above). Her fic is not long, but if you don't have time to read both, I think this story can stand alone as well. (And please note that although the first fic is delightfully fluffy, a bit of angst worked its way into this dude ranch fic. LOL)
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and do not own these characters. No money is being made from this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Additional Disclaimer This story has not been beta read. Concrit welcome and appreciated!
Harry took in the wide, open spaces, the panoramic view, and the crisp, clean air. It was beautiful, he supposed.
“Ready to look around?” Hermione asked brightly.
Harry gave her a withering look. “I told you I’d rather stay in my room.”
“Well, I don’t see why. How often do we have an opportunity like this?”
“Every three months, apparently,” Harry said with a grimace. “I still don’t see why they scheduled another retreat so soon. Surely we don't need to do them more than once a year?”
Hermione placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I, for one, am glad they’ve scheduled another, since I had to stay home last time. Really, I don’t know what your problem is. You used to love these training sessions, Harry. You even told me what a brilliant time you were having at the last one.”
"Yeah, well..." Harry had never told her exactly how sour that experience had turned, and he had no intention of doing so now. "That was at the beach. This is a ranch, Hermione. I still don’t know what they were thinking when they scheduled this."
“They were thinking that this location is entirely appropriate for the theme of this week’s workshops-becoming more aware of other wizarding cultures. We’re far too insular, and I’m glad the Ministry is finally taking steps to correct that. There’s much to be learned from the wizards in other countries.”
“And they thought the best way to learn about other wizarding cultures was to Portkey us all to a dude ranch? Even I know that not all Americans dress like that.” Harry gestured in irritation at a wizard in complete cowboy array, from the spurs on his boots to his ten-gallon hat.
“Well, no, but it is true that American wizards don’t dress that differently from Muggles. And by having the training here, we can also learn more about the magical creatures native to this area.”
“How is that useful information, really?”
“We’re affected by magical creatures from other countries. Just for example, we’ve been having a lot of trouble lately with Re’em blood on the black market.”
“Re’em? What’s that?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Harry. Giant ox? Golden fur? This is all straight out of our first year textbook.”
A giant golden ox sounded interesting, actually. “Do they have any of those here on the ranch?”
“Probably not,” Hermione admitted. “They’re extremely rare. But whether they do or not, I’m sure we’ll get to learn more about other magical creatures. Come on, Harry, this is a wonderful opportunity!”
“So you’ve said.” Harry sighed. This “opportunity” to spend a week in close proximity with Malfoy was one he could have done without. If the last Ministry retreat had been any indication, he would be bumping into the git constantly.
“Well, come on, Harry. The first session doesn’t start for another hour and a half. Let’s go look at the corrals.”
It wouldn’t hurt, he supposed, as he followed grudgingly behind. What were the odds that Malfoy would be there right now?
Pretty damn good, as it turned out.
He sucked in a pained breath at the sight of Draco.
“What’s wrong, Harry?”
He tore his gaze from Draco to see Hermione, looking at him in concern.
“What? Er…I was just…surprised about those horses. I’ve never seen so many winged horses in the same place.”
The number of winged horses in the corral was truly impressive. “What kind are those?" Harry asked. "They’re not Thestrals, obviously, and they look different from the kind that pulled the Beaubatons carriage.”
Hermione didn’t look entirely convinced but apparently couldn’t pass up the opportunity to explain something. “The ones that pulled the Beaubatons carriage were Abraxan. These are Granian-grey, as you can see, and extremely fast. I haven’t seen them before either. All breeds of winged horses are related, though.”
This was all straight from their first-year textbook, too, he was sure. How did she remember this stuff?
Hermione turned back to watch the horses. Harry tried to do the same, but his eyes were drawn, against his will, back to Draco-no, to Malfoy, he reminded himself irritably. He was wearing boots and a cowboy hat. He looked stupid.
He was leaning against the fence, talking with a ranch hand. The other man was teaching him a spell, something like Incarcerous, only it produced a lasso rather than the multiple, thick ropes.
Malfoy performed the spell successfully but missed the Granian he was aiming for. Something appeared to be preventing the horses from flying more than a few feet into the air, but they really were fast.
Malfoy didn’t seem to mind missing, though. He adjusted his hat and laughed, smiling at the cowboy-who had an actual reason to be wearing a cowboy hat, thought Harry in irritation.
The other man patted Malfoy on the back but let his hand linger far longer than appropriate. Malfoy didn’t shake him off. Harry clenched his teeth.
At that point, the ranch hand glanced over and saw them. He blinked at the obvious hostility in Harry’s expression but smiled at Hermione and gave her a friendly wave.
Malfoy turned. His gaze took in Harry, Hermione standing next to him, and his eyes narrowed.
“Whatever happened between you two, anyway?” Hermione asked quietly.
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said tightly. “Look, you go learn how to rope horses if you want. I’m going back to my room.”
Harry took a sip of his morning tea and grimaced. So far all he'd learned about American culture was that the tea was terrible. And that they couldn't keep their hands to themselves, he thought darkly.
He supposed he might have learned more if he’d managed to pay attention during the training sessions. He’d been sitting as far from Malfoy as he could, but it didn’t help much. He was still just as distracted, this time not from Malfoy’s closeness, but from the memory of it. He still remembered Malfoy in the sessions three months ago. How they'd sat right next to each other, talked together. He missed that closeness.
Which he fucking well shouldn't, he reminded himself angrily. Malfoy hadn't meant any of it. He was a sick bastard, to have feigned friendship as long as he had.
Well, he wasn’t going to sit around wasting any more of his time thinking about it. But he still had a good two hours until the first training session began. He’d go…he’d go take a look at the Re’em. They did have one here on the ranch, as it turned out.
The air was chill as he walked toward the corrals, but he found he didn’t mind. It helped him take his mind off things. And besides, if it was this cold, morning routine or no, Malfoy wouldn’t be jogging in that skimpy little outfit he always…
So perhaps the cold air wasn’t taking his mind off of things as well as he’d thought.
He found the Re’em in a large stable not far from the corrals. For a giant golden ox, it wasn’t actually that impressive. It just stood there, staring at him. It looked lonely, really.
And why did they leave it alone like this, if it was such a valuable animal? Maybe there were protective charms placed on its pen? Because if not, someone could just walk on in there and…well, actually, what would they be able to do? Would it be possible to side-along Apparate with a giant ox?
Harry couldn’t help chuckling at the image. It reminded him of the time a baby cockatrice had somehow got loose on their floor of the Ministry, and he and Draco had-
But really, he thought he’d stayed to look at the Re’em for quite long enough.
He stepped out of the stable and immediately wished he hadn’t. Because there was Malfoy, on his morning jog, not twenty feet away. At least he was wearing a shirt this time-Harry hadn’t been wrong about the cold weather-but somehow he still looked just as attractive as he had that morning when Harry had stupidly, stupidly gone and kissed him.
Malfoy saw him, and his pleasant expression vanished from his face, to be replaced with something hard and bitter.
As if he had anything to feel bitter about.
Harry was going to let him pass by without saying anything. It would be the smart thing to do, and really, there was nothing left to be said between them.
Only apparently there was.
“Where’s your stupid hat?”
Malfoy stopped, blinked, and then sneered at Harry.
"Excuse me?”
Harry privately agreed that the question had been about as ridiculous as Malfoy seemed to think it was, but he wasn’t going to back down now.
"You heard me. Your stupid cowboy hat. Where is it? Leave it in the bedroom of that ranch hand, did you?”
Oh, fantastic. Pretending he was completely over any…any feelings for Malfoy was rather difficult to do when crap like that kept slipping out of his mouth.
If he’d exposed any feelings, though, Malfoy didn’t seem to have noticed.
“That’s rather your job, isn’t it?” asked Malfoy bitterly. “Aren’t you the one who goes hopping from bed to bed on these retreats?”
”What?” Harry asked, in complete confusion.
"I heard you, Potter. When you were Floo-calling with Granger. I’m sure you recall.” His mouth pinched into a tight line. “Or maybe you don’t. Well, let me refresh your memory. She asked you if you'd met someone special.” Malfoy paused. “You said no."
"I--well, I hadn't just met you. For fuck's sake, Draco. Aside from the fact that we went to Hogwarts together, we'd been friends for the last two years. Or at least I thought we were friends. You cleared up that little misconception, though, didn't you?"
Those spots of color had appeared in Malfoy’s cheeks-the ones that only showed up when he was truly outraged. "Friends don't use each other for a bit of fun before moving on to the next wizard that catches their eye." He sounded as if he were quoting someone, quoting Harry.
"What?" Harry asked again.
"Don't play stupid, Potter. I heard your conversation with Granger, remember?"
Harry floundered, trying to mentally piece together the three-months-old conversation. He'd asked Hermione how her sick kids were doing. She'd answered briefly but then raised an eyebrow when she realized Harry’s shower was going and he obviously wasn’t in it. He'd launched into an update on the Ministry training sessions she was missing, which had distracted her for a bit, but then she'd asked him that question about meeting someone, and then...
"Are you talking about when she asked me...I was talking about you, you prat!"
Malfoy blinked but then sneered. "Right. You expect me to believe that? I've got my eye on someone. Not the usual way one refers to a bloke they've already fucked, a bloke that's in their shower even as they speak."
"You obviously weren't in the shower by that point, were you?" Harry still felt unreasonably indignant on that point. None of this would have happened if Draco hadn't been sneaking around, spying on him like a...like a Slytherin. He sighed, feeling some of the fight leave his body along with his breath.
"I'd had my eye on you, all bloody week. For months, really. I thought it would be safe to tell her that much. I didn't know how much more you would want me to say. I'd thought we could talk about it after your shower, but by the time I'd said good bye to Hermione, you'd bloody well left, hadn't you?"
On the whole, he felt much calmer, more sad and wrung out than anything else, but he felt a fresh surge of anger at that memory and the ones that followed. His confusion when he realized that Draco had left. His hurt at Draco's hostility and vindictiveness when Harry had finally found and confronted him. And of course, worst of all, the sick, miserable, and ultimately infuriating realization of what exactly Draco must have meant by his I won.
Except...he hadn't meant that, had he? Could Draco possibly have meant exactly what Harry had first hoped and assumed he had? Well, Harry wasn't making any more assumptions, that was for damn sure.
He looked up to Draco, who was staring at him.
"What did you mean by that, anyway? When you said that you'd won?"
Draco flushed, and when he spoke, his voice was low.
"What did you think I'd meant? I told you at the time, didn't I? I'd thought I'd won you. I'd been trying to catch your attention for months. Thought I finally had it. Didn't manage to keep it very long, did I?"
"Trust me, Draco. You've had my attention."
And suddenly, it was as if the three months had never passed, and they were still on the beach where they’d shared their first kiss. He pulled Draco toward him, tight against his body, and Draco let out a small moan. Harry felt the warmth of Draco’s mouth on his neck, his jaw, and then they were kissing, just like they had before, only this time it was a pile of straw and not the sand Harry pulled Draco down onto.
And it was the prickling of the straw and not the lapping of the waves that slowly brought Harry back to the present.
“We shouldn’t-we shouldn’t do this here,” Harry said, pulling away regretfully.
“You’re right,” Draco said, and he glanced around nervously, half-rising from his reclined position. “There’s likely a Porlock in the straw.”
Harry blinked. “A what?”
“Come on, Potter, this is first-year stuff. They live in the straw of stables, guard the animals? They usually guard horses, but…”
“Right,” said Harry. He didn’t remember really, but Hermione had already given him a hard enough time for his lack of attention to first-year textbooks, and besides…
He lifted a hand and ran it through Draco’s hair. Draco’s eyes darkened.
"You've got straw in your hair. You need a shower."
"That's right," Draco said slowly. "I do."
"If I let you take one back at my room, are you going to behave yourself? You won't slip off when I'm not looking?"
"I don't suppose I will." And then Draco grinned. "But you'd better take your shower with me. Just to make sure."
Harry grinned back.
"That I can do."
Author: scrtkpr
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 2,415
Summary: The course of love does not run smooth. (Or, as you will likely remember it, "That one where Harry and Draco are at a dude ranch.")
Author's Note: Written as a birthday gift for sesheta_66, as a thank you for the birthday ficlet she wrote for me in September. Yesterday she gave me the prompt of Harry and Draco at a ranch. After much pondering on how I might accomplish that, I decided to write it as a continuation of the story she wrote for me (linked above). Her fic is not long, but if you don't have time to read both, I think this story can stand alone as well. (And please note that although the first fic is delightfully fluffy, a bit of angst worked its way into this dude ranch fic. LOL)
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and do not own these characters. No money is being made from this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Additional Disclaimer This story has not been beta read. Concrit welcome and appreciated!
Harry took in the wide, open spaces, the panoramic view, and the crisp, clean air. It was beautiful, he supposed.
“Ready to look around?” Hermione asked brightly.
Harry gave her a withering look. “I told you I’d rather stay in my room.”
“Well, I don’t see why. How often do we have an opportunity like this?”
“Every three months, apparently,” Harry said with a grimace. “I still don’t see why they scheduled another retreat so soon. Surely we don't need to do them more than once a year?”
Hermione placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I, for one, am glad they’ve scheduled another, since I had to stay home last time. Really, I don’t know what your problem is. You used to love these training sessions, Harry. You even told me what a brilliant time you were having at the last one.”
"Yeah, well..." Harry had never told her exactly how sour that experience had turned, and he had no intention of doing so now. "That was at the beach. This is a ranch, Hermione. I still don’t know what they were thinking when they scheduled this."
“They were thinking that this location is entirely appropriate for the theme of this week’s workshops-becoming more aware of other wizarding cultures. We’re far too insular, and I’m glad the Ministry is finally taking steps to correct that. There’s much to be learned from the wizards in other countries.”
“And they thought the best way to learn about other wizarding cultures was to Portkey us all to a dude ranch? Even I know that not all Americans dress like that.” Harry gestured in irritation at a wizard in complete cowboy array, from the spurs on his boots to his ten-gallon hat.
“Well, no, but it is true that American wizards don’t dress that differently from Muggles. And by having the training here, we can also learn more about the magical creatures native to this area.”
“How is that useful information, really?”
“We’re affected by magical creatures from other countries. Just for example, we’ve been having a lot of trouble lately with Re’em blood on the black market.”
“Re’em? What’s that?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Harry. Giant ox? Golden fur? This is all straight out of our first year textbook.”
A giant golden ox sounded interesting, actually. “Do they have any of those here on the ranch?”
“Probably not,” Hermione admitted. “They’re extremely rare. But whether they do or not, I’m sure we’ll get to learn more about other magical creatures. Come on, Harry, this is a wonderful opportunity!”
“So you’ve said.” Harry sighed. This “opportunity” to spend a week in close proximity with Malfoy was one he could have done without. If the last Ministry retreat had been any indication, he would be bumping into the git constantly.
“Well, come on, Harry. The first session doesn’t start for another hour and a half. Let’s go look at the corrals.”
It wouldn’t hurt, he supposed, as he followed grudgingly behind. What were the odds that Malfoy would be there right now?
Pretty damn good, as it turned out.
He sucked in a pained breath at the sight of Draco.
“What’s wrong, Harry?”
He tore his gaze from Draco to see Hermione, looking at him in concern.
“What? Er…I was just…surprised about those horses. I’ve never seen so many winged horses in the same place.”
The number of winged horses in the corral was truly impressive. “What kind are those?" Harry asked. "They’re not Thestrals, obviously, and they look different from the kind that pulled the Beaubatons carriage.”
Hermione didn’t look entirely convinced but apparently couldn’t pass up the opportunity to explain something. “The ones that pulled the Beaubatons carriage were Abraxan. These are Granian-grey, as you can see, and extremely fast. I haven’t seen them before either. All breeds of winged horses are related, though.”
This was all straight from their first-year textbook, too, he was sure. How did she remember this stuff?
Hermione turned back to watch the horses. Harry tried to do the same, but his eyes were drawn, against his will, back to Draco-no, to Malfoy, he reminded himself irritably. He was wearing boots and a cowboy hat. He looked stupid.
He was leaning against the fence, talking with a ranch hand. The other man was teaching him a spell, something like Incarcerous, only it produced a lasso rather than the multiple, thick ropes.
Malfoy performed the spell successfully but missed the Granian he was aiming for. Something appeared to be preventing the horses from flying more than a few feet into the air, but they really were fast.
Malfoy didn’t seem to mind missing, though. He adjusted his hat and laughed, smiling at the cowboy-who had an actual reason to be wearing a cowboy hat, thought Harry in irritation.
The other man patted Malfoy on the back but let his hand linger far longer than appropriate. Malfoy didn’t shake him off. Harry clenched his teeth.
At that point, the ranch hand glanced over and saw them. He blinked at the obvious hostility in Harry’s expression but smiled at Hermione and gave her a friendly wave.
Malfoy turned. His gaze took in Harry, Hermione standing next to him, and his eyes narrowed.
“Whatever happened between you two, anyway?” Hermione asked quietly.
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said tightly. “Look, you go learn how to rope horses if you want. I’m going back to my room.”
Harry took a sip of his morning tea and grimaced. So far all he'd learned about American culture was that the tea was terrible. And that they couldn't keep their hands to themselves, he thought darkly.
He supposed he might have learned more if he’d managed to pay attention during the training sessions. He’d been sitting as far from Malfoy as he could, but it didn’t help much. He was still just as distracted, this time not from Malfoy’s closeness, but from the memory of it. He still remembered Malfoy in the sessions three months ago. How they'd sat right next to each other, talked together. He missed that closeness.
Which he fucking well shouldn't, he reminded himself angrily. Malfoy hadn't meant any of it. He was a sick bastard, to have feigned friendship as long as he had.
Well, he wasn’t going to sit around wasting any more of his time thinking about it. But he still had a good two hours until the first training session began. He’d go…he’d go take a look at the Re’em. They did have one here on the ranch, as it turned out.
The air was chill as he walked toward the corrals, but he found he didn’t mind. It helped him take his mind off things. And besides, if it was this cold, morning routine or no, Malfoy wouldn’t be jogging in that skimpy little outfit he always…
So perhaps the cold air wasn’t taking his mind off of things as well as he’d thought.
He found the Re’em in a large stable not far from the corrals. For a giant golden ox, it wasn’t actually that impressive. It just stood there, staring at him. It looked lonely, really.
And why did they leave it alone like this, if it was such a valuable animal? Maybe there were protective charms placed on its pen? Because if not, someone could just walk on in there and…well, actually, what would they be able to do? Would it be possible to side-along Apparate with a giant ox?
Harry couldn’t help chuckling at the image. It reminded him of the time a baby cockatrice had somehow got loose on their floor of the Ministry, and he and Draco had-
But really, he thought he’d stayed to look at the Re’em for quite long enough.
He stepped out of the stable and immediately wished he hadn’t. Because there was Malfoy, on his morning jog, not twenty feet away. At least he was wearing a shirt this time-Harry hadn’t been wrong about the cold weather-but somehow he still looked just as attractive as he had that morning when Harry had stupidly, stupidly gone and kissed him.
Malfoy saw him, and his pleasant expression vanished from his face, to be replaced with something hard and bitter.
As if he had anything to feel bitter about.
Harry was going to let him pass by without saying anything. It would be the smart thing to do, and really, there was nothing left to be said between them.
Only apparently there was.
“Where’s your stupid hat?”
Malfoy stopped, blinked, and then sneered at Harry.
"Excuse me?”
Harry privately agreed that the question had been about as ridiculous as Malfoy seemed to think it was, but he wasn’t going to back down now.
"You heard me. Your stupid cowboy hat. Where is it? Leave it in the bedroom of that ranch hand, did you?”
Oh, fantastic. Pretending he was completely over any…any feelings for Malfoy was rather difficult to do when crap like that kept slipping out of his mouth.
If he’d exposed any feelings, though, Malfoy didn’t seem to have noticed.
“That’s rather your job, isn’t it?” asked Malfoy bitterly. “Aren’t you the one who goes hopping from bed to bed on these retreats?”
”What?” Harry asked, in complete confusion.
"I heard you, Potter. When you were Floo-calling with Granger. I’m sure you recall.” His mouth pinched into a tight line. “Or maybe you don’t. Well, let me refresh your memory. She asked you if you'd met someone special.” Malfoy paused. “You said no."
"I--well, I hadn't just met you. For fuck's sake, Draco. Aside from the fact that we went to Hogwarts together, we'd been friends for the last two years. Or at least I thought we were friends. You cleared up that little misconception, though, didn't you?"
Those spots of color had appeared in Malfoy’s cheeks-the ones that only showed up when he was truly outraged. "Friends don't use each other for a bit of fun before moving on to the next wizard that catches their eye." He sounded as if he were quoting someone, quoting Harry.
"What?" Harry asked again.
"Don't play stupid, Potter. I heard your conversation with Granger, remember?"
Harry floundered, trying to mentally piece together the three-months-old conversation. He'd asked Hermione how her sick kids were doing. She'd answered briefly but then raised an eyebrow when she realized Harry’s shower was going and he obviously wasn’t in it. He'd launched into an update on the Ministry training sessions she was missing, which had distracted her for a bit, but then she'd asked him that question about meeting someone, and then...
"Are you talking about when she asked me...I was talking about you, you prat!"
Malfoy blinked but then sneered. "Right. You expect me to believe that? I've got my eye on someone. Not the usual way one refers to a bloke they've already fucked, a bloke that's in their shower even as they speak."
"You obviously weren't in the shower by that point, were you?" Harry still felt unreasonably indignant on that point. None of this would have happened if Draco hadn't been sneaking around, spying on him like a...like a Slytherin. He sighed, feeling some of the fight leave his body along with his breath.
"I'd had my eye on you, all bloody week. For months, really. I thought it would be safe to tell her that much. I didn't know how much more you would want me to say. I'd thought we could talk about it after your shower, but by the time I'd said good bye to Hermione, you'd bloody well left, hadn't you?"
On the whole, he felt much calmer, more sad and wrung out than anything else, but he felt a fresh surge of anger at that memory and the ones that followed. His confusion when he realized that Draco had left. His hurt at Draco's hostility and vindictiveness when Harry had finally found and confronted him. And of course, worst of all, the sick, miserable, and ultimately infuriating realization of what exactly Draco must have meant by his I won.
Except...he hadn't meant that, had he? Could Draco possibly have meant exactly what Harry had first hoped and assumed he had? Well, Harry wasn't making any more assumptions, that was for damn sure.
He looked up to Draco, who was staring at him.
"What did you mean by that, anyway? When you said that you'd won?"
Draco flushed, and when he spoke, his voice was low.
"What did you think I'd meant? I told you at the time, didn't I? I'd thought I'd won you. I'd been trying to catch your attention for months. Thought I finally had it. Didn't manage to keep it very long, did I?"
"Trust me, Draco. You've had my attention."
And suddenly, it was as if the three months had never passed, and they were still on the beach where they’d shared their first kiss. He pulled Draco toward him, tight against his body, and Draco let out a small moan. Harry felt the warmth of Draco’s mouth on his neck, his jaw, and then they were kissing, just like they had before, only this time it was a pile of straw and not the sand Harry pulled Draco down onto.
And it was the prickling of the straw and not the lapping of the waves that slowly brought Harry back to the present.
“We shouldn’t-we shouldn’t do this here,” Harry said, pulling away regretfully.
“You’re right,” Draco said, and he glanced around nervously, half-rising from his reclined position. “There’s likely a Porlock in the straw.”
Harry blinked. “A what?”
“Come on, Potter, this is first-year stuff. They live in the straw of stables, guard the animals? They usually guard horses, but…”
“Right,” said Harry. He didn’t remember really, but Hermione had already given him a hard enough time for his lack of attention to first-year textbooks, and besides…
He lifted a hand and ran it through Draco’s hair. Draco’s eyes darkened.
"You've got straw in your hair. You need a shower."
"That's right," Draco said slowly. "I do."
"If I let you take one back at my room, are you going to behave yourself? You won't slip off when I'm not looking?"
"I don't suppose I will." And then Draco grinned. "But you'd better take your shower with me. Just to make sure."
Harry grinned back.
"That I can do."