Walk of Shame (4/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (4/?)
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 1,300
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 4
Warning: Nil
Summary: Potter baits the hook, Draco makes a call.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Nothing to report :) Part 4 of the Walk of Shame Series.
Draco sneered.
“You have nothing I want,” he told Potter coldly. And he had never meant it more. He didn’t want Potter around him. He didn’t want him in this Library, flicking through his books and…and watching him with that intense, almost hungry expression. He didn’t even want to think about Potter or his stupid, soft lips or his strong arms or…
Salazar damn it, what was happening to him?!
“I want nothing from you, Potter,” Draco repeated, willing himself to believe it. “Please leave.”
“Nothing?” Potter echoed, with a challenging grin. “Not even this?”
Potter pulled something out of his pocket.
Draco’s eyes widened.
“A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens,” Potter announced, turning the book over in his hands. His fingers ran the length of the spine, over the embossed, gold print. Draco bit the inside of his cheek.
It was the same one. The exact copy he’d been looking at in that shop last night, right before he’d run into Potter.
And now, Potter had it.
“I have to say, you’ve got great taste in books,” Potter continued, flicking through the pages. “This is a literary classic. One of my personal favourites, actually.”
Draco felt his fists clench. Oh, he couldn’t believe how severely he’d underestimated Potter all these years. The man was a monster.
“So,” Potter spoke up, his eyes flicking up to meet Draco's again, “I guess the question is, how bad do you want it?”
Draco sneered. “This is pathetic,” he hissed. “Really, Potter? This is your big plan? You just told me it’s a classic. What makes you think I can’t go to London myself and buy another copy?”
He didn’t like the way Potter’s smile widened one bit.
“Oh, you certainly can,” Potter agreed amiably. “But I assure you, this is the one you want.”
“Is that so?” Draco countered with a disbelieving scoff. Potter was just bluffing now. He had to be. What could make that particular book so special? Draco was hardly an expert on Muggles, but he knew what a printing press was. If there weren’t over a hundred thousand existing copies of that book alone, he would turn in his wand.
“You really do have a good eye, Malfoy,” Potter continued. He pried the book open, running one finger down a page. Draco was just about to bark at him to be careful, when Potter’s eyes flicked back to him. “You have no idea what this is, do you? Come here, take a look.”
Despite his consternation, Draco took a step forward. He was curious now, and oddly excited. What had he stumbled upon, exactly? He barely noticed when Potter wrapped an arm around his waist to herd him over, until they were peering at the book together.
“Look at the illustrations,” Potter instructed, turning a few pages.
Draco’s breath caught and his eyes widened. His fingers hovered over the beautiful drawings…oh, but these were breath-taking! It hardly mattered that they weren’t moving, they still seemed to jump out of the page at him.
“Arthur Rackham,” Potter said suddenly. “The illustrator,” he explained further went Draco just looked lost. “This is an original, signed edition dating back to 1915, extremely rare and highly coveted. There are only about five hundred original copies left. This, Malfoy, is a collector’s wet dream. Set me back a pretty penny too.”
Oh. Merlin.
Draco reached out for the precious treasure, but Potter- cruel, unfeeling, vicious Potter- took it back. Draco watched in dismay as the book vanished. His heart sank. Just like that, it was out of his reach forever.
Potter chuckled. “I bought it for you,” he assured Draco with a gentle smile. “You can have it in two weeks, I promise.”
Draco stiffened. “If I sleep with you again?” he demanded accusingly.
Potter’s smile faded and his eyes flashed. His jaw clenched tight, and suddenly, he looked rather angry. “Did I say that?” he asked sharply. His arm tightened around Draco’s waist, just enough to make its presence felt. Draco’s eyes widened as he suddenly realised that he was in Potter’s arms and how had this happened exactly? He pushed at Potter and scuttled back, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Potter let him go, but his eyes followed Draco’s retreat.
“I didn’t say that,” he repeated, softer this time. He cocked his head and took a cautious step forward. “Draco, are you afraid of me?”
Draco huffed. “Of course not,” he muttered, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He definitely wasn’t afraid of Potter. It was the other things- the confused tangle of feelings and emotions and reactions that Potter elicited in him- that bothered him. He wasn’t used to this, not to any of it.
“Good,” Potter said softly. “That’s good.”
Draco sighed, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “What do you want, Potter?”
“A fair shot?”
Draco glanced at him, wary and guarded, but Potter looked sincere.
“All I’m asking for is two weeks,” he said softly, “to take you out, spend time with you, get to know you. I think there’s something here, Draco, and I want to find out what it is.”
Draco mulled over that in silence. It seemed like…it sounded like Potter was interested in more than a one off. Was that…was that good or bad? Oh Merlin, he didn’t know! This whole thing was just a complicated mess. It would be so much easier not to have to deal with it.
Besides, he didn’t like Potter. He had never liked Potter. He knew that. His entire life- sad though it may be- had been guided by a few, very select principles. ‘I don’t like Harry Potter’ was an inalienable part of that philosophy.
“Draco,” Potter pressed, sounding gentle but no less firm. “Just answer one question for me, okay? Last night…was it as good for you as it was for me?”
Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t answer, he just couldn’t. Potter couldn’t have that, he couldn’t know just how much…no. Just no.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” Draco announced firmly. Potter said nothing but he offered a nod. Draco sighed and shook his head. He was going to regret this, he just knew it. “But if this is so important to you, we can…spend time together. If you promise to give my book back.”
Potter grinned. He looked like he’d just won the War all over again. Draco scowled, half wanting to tell the prat he hadn’t won anything- this was a compromise and nothing more- but it seemed petty. He could play Potter’s game for two weeks, if it would get him that book. And after that, Potter would leave and these wretched feelings would go with him.
Besides, it’s not like he had anything better to do this Christmas. At least, Potter was getting what he wanted.
Chalk it up to Draco’s Good Deed of the Year.
“I’ll take it,” Potter agreed. “Two weeks. And I promise, whatever happens, the book is yours.”
Damn right it was. “Fine,” Draco groused. His shoulders slumped. Might as well get this over with, then. “So, the Three Broomsticks?”
“As good a place as any for a first date,” Potter countered.
Draco glowered at him. “Spending time together,” he repeated firmly, jabbing a finger in Potter’s chest to make his point. “Not a date.”
Potter shrugged, apparently not caring much one way or another. “Would you care to Apparate, or can we use your Floo Travel only fireplace?”
Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed a small pouch of Floo Powder from the mantle. He cast a careful Incendio, threw a pinch of powder in the flames and watched them turn bright green.
He couldn’t quite resist a parting shot, though.
“Just so you know, I’m not drinking anything but Butterbeer tonight.”
He stepped into the flames and Potter’s bark of laughter echoed in his ears all the way to Hogsmeade.
Part 5
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 1,300
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 4
Warning: Nil
Summary: Potter baits the hook, Draco makes a call.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Nothing to report :) Part 4 of the Walk of Shame Series.
Draco sneered.
“You have nothing I want,” he told Potter coldly. And he had never meant it more. He didn’t want Potter around him. He didn’t want him in this Library, flicking through his books and…and watching him with that intense, almost hungry expression. He didn’t even want to think about Potter or his stupid, soft lips or his strong arms or…
Salazar damn it, what was happening to him?!
“I want nothing from you, Potter,” Draco repeated, willing himself to believe it. “Please leave.”
“Nothing?” Potter echoed, with a challenging grin. “Not even this?”
Potter pulled something out of his pocket.
Draco’s eyes widened.
“A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens,” Potter announced, turning the book over in his hands. His fingers ran the length of the spine, over the embossed, gold print. Draco bit the inside of his cheek.
It was the same one. The exact copy he’d been looking at in that shop last night, right before he’d run into Potter.
And now, Potter had it.
“I have to say, you’ve got great taste in books,” Potter continued, flicking through the pages. “This is a literary classic. One of my personal favourites, actually.”
Draco felt his fists clench. Oh, he couldn’t believe how severely he’d underestimated Potter all these years. The man was a monster.
“So,” Potter spoke up, his eyes flicking up to meet Draco's again, “I guess the question is, how bad do you want it?”
Draco sneered. “This is pathetic,” he hissed. “Really, Potter? This is your big plan? You just told me it’s a classic. What makes you think I can’t go to London myself and buy another copy?”
He didn’t like the way Potter’s smile widened one bit.
“Oh, you certainly can,” Potter agreed amiably. “But I assure you, this is the one you want.”
“Is that so?” Draco countered with a disbelieving scoff. Potter was just bluffing now. He had to be. What could make that particular book so special? Draco was hardly an expert on Muggles, but he knew what a printing press was. If there weren’t over a hundred thousand existing copies of that book alone, he would turn in his wand.
“You really do have a good eye, Malfoy,” Potter continued. He pried the book open, running one finger down a page. Draco was just about to bark at him to be careful, when Potter’s eyes flicked back to him. “You have no idea what this is, do you? Come here, take a look.”
Despite his consternation, Draco took a step forward. He was curious now, and oddly excited. What had he stumbled upon, exactly? He barely noticed when Potter wrapped an arm around his waist to herd him over, until they were peering at the book together.
“Look at the illustrations,” Potter instructed, turning a few pages.
Draco’s breath caught and his eyes widened. His fingers hovered over the beautiful drawings…oh, but these were breath-taking! It hardly mattered that they weren’t moving, they still seemed to jump out of the page at him.
“Arthur Rackham,” Potter said suddenly. “The illustrator,” he explained further went Draco just looked lost. “This is an original, signed edition dating back to 1915, extremely rare and highly coveted. There are only about five hundred original copies left. This, Malfoy, is a collector’s wet dream. Set me back a pretty penny too.”
Oh. Merlin.
Draco reached out for the precious treasure, but Potter- cruel, unfeeling, vicious Potter- took it back. Draco watched in dismay as the book vanished. His heart sank. Just like that, it was out of his reach forever.
Potter chuckled. “I bought it for you,” he assured Draco with a gentle smile. “You can have it in two weeks, I promise.”
Draco stiffened. “If I sleep with you again?” he demanded accusingly.
Potter’s smile faded and his eyes flashed. His jaw clenched tight, and suddenly, he looked rather angry. “Did I say that?” he asked sharply. His arm tightened around Draco’s waist, just enough to make its presence felt. Draco’s eyes widened as he suddenly realised that he was in Potter’s arms and how had this happened exactly? He pushed at Potter and scuttled back, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Potter let him go, but his eyes followed Draco’s retreat.
“I didn’t say that,” he repeated, softer this time. He cocked his head and took a cautious step forward. “Draco, are you afraid of me?”
Draco huffed. “Of course not,” he muttered, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He definitely wasn’t afraid of Potter. It was the other things- the confused tangle of feelings and emotions and reactions that Potter elicited in him- that bothered him. He wasn’t used to this, not to any of it.
“Good,” Potter said softly. “That’s good.”
Draco sighed, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “What do you want, Potter?”
“A fair shot?”
Draco glanced at him, wary and guarded, but Potter looked sincere.
“All I’m asking for is two weeks,” he said softly, “to take you out, spend time with you, get to know you. I think there’s something here, Draco, and I want to find out what it is.”
Draco mulled over that in silence. It seemed like…it sounded like Potter was interested in more than a one off. Was that…was that good or bad? Oh Merlin, he didn’t know! This whole thing was just a complicated mess. It would be so much easier not to have to deal with it.
Besides, he didn’t like Potter. He had never liked Potter. He knew that. His entire life- sad though it may be- had been guided by a few, very select principles. ‘I don’t like Harry Potter’ was an inalienable part of that philosophy.
“Draco,” Potter pressed, sounding gentle but no less firm. “Just answer one question for me, okay? Last night…was it as good for you as it was for me?”
Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t answer, he just couldn’t. Potter couldn’t have that, he couldn’t know just how much…no. Just no.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” Draco announced firmly. Potter said nothing but he offered a nod. Draco sighed and shook his head. He was going to regret this, he just knew it. “But if this is so important to you, we can…spend time together. If you promise to give my book back.”
Potter grinned. He looked like he’d just won the War all over again. Draco scowled, half wanting to tell the prat he hadn’t won anything- this was a compromise and nothing more- but it seemed petty. He could play Potter’s game for two weeks, if it would get him that book. And after that, Potter would leave and these wretched feelings would go with him.
Besides, it’s not like he had anything better to do this Christmas. At least, Potter was getting what he wanted.
Chalk it up to Draco’s Good Deed of the Year.
“I’ll take it,” Potter agreed. “Two weeks. And I promise, whatever happens, the book is yours.”
Damn right it was. “Fine,” Draco groused. His shoulders slumped. Might as well get this over with, then. “So, the Three Broomsticks?”
“As good a place as any for a first date,” Potter countered.
Draco glowered at him. “Spending time together,” he repeated firmly, jabbing a finger in Potter’s chest to make his point. “Not a date.”
Potter shrugged, apparently not caring much one way or another. “Would you care to Apparate, or can we use your Floo Travel only fireplace?”
Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed a small pouch of Floo Powder from the mantle. He cast a careful Incendio, threw a pinch of powder in the flames and watched them turn bright green.
He couldn’t quite resist a parting shot, though.
“Just so you know, I’m not drinking anything but Butterbeer tonight.”
He stepped into the flames and Potter’s bark of laughter echoed in his ears all the way to Hogsmeade.
Part 5