_______<br/><br/>The bottle of wine Draco had apparated to the sunroom was yet another spectacular year, even though Harry had the impression that Draco was picking them blind. It spoke to the quality of the Manor reserves, or perhaps to the simple fact that this was the first time in a month Harry had had enough to feel a buzz.<br/>It was decidedly different sharing a bottle over dinner than indulging in another just to prolong the evening, and Harry felt a sense of relief in the easy familiarity of intoxication, finding that it provided the last bit of normalcy to his stay.<br/>By the time Harry was finishing his last glass of the evening, night had fallen around them, and Harry thought of summer nights at Andromeda’s cottage rather than drinking pints after work. The sunroom held the warmth of the sun even hours after sundown, and Harry felt no need or urge to leave the table, finally able to shed the weight of their work.<br/>"No, I mean, I still see them quite frequently," he said, twirling the stem of his practically empty glass, swirling the last taste of wine around. Harry had leaned back into the plush seat of the chair, shifting off kilter to be able to cross his legs without getting tangled up in the table legs.<br/>There was an easy grin to his lips, his attention continuously returning to Draco. Even if Harry hadn’t found Draco to be absolutely and magnificently beautiful, he sat across him like the only point of light in the blurred darkness surrounding him. "Fleur and I were in-laws for a few years, you know, she’s married Bill Weasley."<br/>Harry grinned. "Vik likes to think she named her daughter after him, but they've yet to admit to that."