It had been another early morning for Draco, who couldn’t remember the last time he had actually slept through a night. His sleeping was always restless, never really able to ind peace, no matter how exhausted he actually was. He didn’t know if he had expected anything different now that Potter was there, but in the early hours of the morning, Draco realised that he wasn’t likely to get more rest and decided to go to the lab.<br/>It had been his routine for years and while the routine<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>been broken by him making sure that there was milk for Potter’s tea, wanting to make sure that he was a good host finally, that particular morning in the manor was no very different from the many mornings that he had spent there alone over the past many many years.<br/>He had only just gotten into a nice flow of work when Coote poked his head into the study to inform Draco that Potter had woken up and was taking his tea and breakfast in the kitchen. Draco immediately dismissed him and told him that he would join Potter momentarily.<br/>He didn’t even glance at the clock once he worked, but he knew that it had been a lot longer than what<span style="font-style: italic">momentarily</span>would imply, and he simply had to hope that Coote hadn’t passed the message of him joining Potter for breakfast along.<br/><br/>Entering the kitchen, a place where he found himself often but rarely for eating, and seeing Potter sitting there was a strange feeling. There was something so inherently wrong about seeing his childhood nemesis in a place that seemed so intimate to him, but he knew that it was only his own doing, so he really had no way, nor even a reason, to complain.<br/>“Good morning,” Draco stated as he entered the kitchen, having no real grasp of what time it actually was, but Potter didn’t strike him as the type to care too much about details like the time of day.<br/>Once again, it became painfully obvious to Draco just how unaccustomed he had become to having people over, and much less how to make any amount of regular small talk.<br/>“Slept well?” He asked as he sat down in the chair across from Potter, struck by how painfully intimate it seemed; but also feeling certain that that it was only him who felt like that.