Walk of Shame (6/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (6/?)
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,800
Rating: R
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 6
Summary: Draco struggles with his insecurities, Harry tries to help.
Warning: Nil
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's notes: Part 6 of the Walk of Shame Series.
Draco woke up the next morning, feeling strangely eager to start the day. Usually it took him an hour and a half to summon up the will to trudge his way to work. But today, he showered and dressed in half his usual time, grabbed an apple and checked to see if Adelaide’s bowl was full. One hasty goodbye later, he was out the door.
Stranger still, he didn’t take the Floo. Normally, it wasn’t even a decision. He would just go straight from his flat to the Library, avoiding the morning rush and spending the day in silence.
But today, was different. He wanted to be out today.
So, Draco walked. He headed through Diagon Alley, only stopping to pick up a scone from the bakery he liked. He took a deep breath, enjoying the bite of brisk wind and the weak sunlight. He even took a moment to browse through Flourish and Blotts. There was one awkward moment when Old Aurelius Flourish recognised him, but apparently, he’d recently commissioned the latest edition of Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit and he was wondering if the Head Archivist would be interested in adding a few copies to the Ministry's Library. Draco declined as politely as he could.
He was already in negotiations for a book, and it was taking everything he had.
As per usual, Potter had made it into his thoughts. Draco mulled over their last meeting as he walked. His mind supplied the oddest selection of memories- green eyes bright with laughter, flecks of snow in messy dark hair, a smile caught between rakish and gentle, strong hands stroking Adelaide gently…
Draco took a deep breath. This would be so much easier if Potter wasn’t so damn attractive. Despite his best efforts, the man was working his way through Draco’s defences. It was getting harder to resist him, and that was a cause for concern.
Harder, Draco told himself, but not impossible.
He firmly reminded himself that Potter had asked for two weeks of his time and nothing else. And there were only a handful of reasons for someone like Potter- star Auror, Saviour of the Magical World and by all accounts, bloody fit bastard- to waste time with an aloof, snappish librarian who rarely had two pleasant words to say to anyone.
One, he was just bored. Two, he liked a challenge. Three, he wasn’t used to hearing the word ‘no’.
There. That was it. Simple as pie, once you actually made a list.
Eventually, Potter would tire of him and go back to saving the world or rescuing kittens from trees or whatever he did in his spare time. This ‘getting to know you’ business was just a phase, and Draco would be wise not to get caught up.
All he wanted from Potter was that book. And that was just as well, because apparently, it was all he was going to get.
The realisation dampened his good mood. Draco walked the rest of the way in a far more sober frame of mind.
****
Potter, curse him, was already there when Draco made it to the Library. He was flicking through a copy of the Daily Prophet and sucking on a Sugar Quill.
Draco’s eyes narrowed and he cast an immediate Evanesco, smirking as Potter blinked at his empty hand.
“No food or drinks near the books,” he said tersely. “How many time do I have to say it before it sticks, Potter?”
Potter didn’t seem fazed by his sour mood or the loss of his Sugar Quill. “Well, it looks like the Butterbeer finally wore off,” he teased lightly.
Draco scowled and stomped over to the Potions and Draughts Section, pulling books out with a lot more force than necessary. He was aware of Potter watching him having a strop, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He just yanked another book off the shelf and headed towards the desk.
“Here,” he spat, tossing the books in front of Potter. They landed heavily on the desk, releasing a cloud of dust. “For your ‘research’ on hallucinogens. If you need me, I’ll be at my desk. Try not to need me.”
Potter didn’t respond. He just watched Draco, brow furrowed and expression speculative. Finally, he nodded and reached for one of the books. Draco watched in stony silence as Potter broke eye contact and started reading.
The lack of reaction made Draco’s gut churn. Potter’s tacit surrender almost made him feel…guilty. Maybe he shouldn’t have snapped like that? Had he just worked himself over a fit for nothing? What if he had, and now Potter was angry with him?
Perfect. Like his life wasn’t complicated enough, now he had this mess to deal with.
The tangle of emotions and feelings and suddenly stifling silence was starting to grate on him. His eyes flicked to Potter again, but the man just went on reading, apparently content to ignore him altogether.
Draco clenched his jaw and headed back to his desk. He had work to do anyway.
And if Potter didn’t want to speak to him anymore, that was just fine.
****
It was not fine. It was not fine at all. Draco was starting to lose his mind.
The altercation- one sided though it may have been- had thrown him off course. Potter’s quiet withdrawal had only stoked the flames. With no outlet to vent his frustration, Draco had taken to handling his complicated situation with grace and maturity.
To make a long story short, he threw a bitch fit.
It started with sneering and rolling his eyes when Potter took too long to turn a page. When that didn’t elicit a reaction, he graduated to scoffing. And when that didn’t work, he just threw decorum out the window and flat out started sniping at Potter.
“Are you still reading that?”
“Have you even turned a page yet?”
“Should I call Hogwarts and have a First Year come down here to explain brewing to you?”
“Good lord, Potter, are those your notes or did your Quill have a fit?”
And yes, he knew he was being insufferable, thank you. But Potter still wasn’t reacting and Draco was on the verge of throwing things around now.
It took another ten minutes of snide commentary before something changed.
Potter shut the book and stood up. Draco- who had been busy berating him on his posture- trailed off as the Auror approached him. Potter looked calm enough but there was a tic in his jaw, and the storm in his eyes was plain as day.
Draco swallowed. Suddenly, he regretted bringing up Potter’s posture. Apparently, it was a sore subject.
Potter approached his desk and Draco suppressed the urge to press back against his chair.
“What?” he muttered ungraciously.
Potter watched him for a few moments. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled, his shoulders relaxed and he turned back to Draco.
“Get your coat.”
Draco stared. “What?”
“Get your coat,” Potter repeated slowly, firmly and with a tone that brooked zero argument. “We’re going for a walk.”
Draco reared up defensively. “One, I’m not some pet you can drag around when the mood strikes you,” he snapped. “And two, I’m not going anywhere right now. I have work to do.”
Potter leaned forward, planting his hands on the desk. His face was inches from Draco’s now, his green eyes were blazing. “One,” he echoed, voice soft and just a touch menacing, “I implied no such thing. And two, if you hadn’t wasted all your time tearing into me, maybe you would have gotten some work done. You have no one but yourself to blame. Now. Get. Your. Coat. We’re going out.”
Potter held his gaze, calm and unruffled. Draco stared back, stubborn and mulish. His eyes started to water and Potter still refused to back down.
Draco sneered and broke eye contact.
“Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Potter roughly. He grabbed his coat from the rack. It surrendered easily enough but his scarf got good and tangled in the process. Draco struggled with it for a good three minutes, cursing under his breath all the while until a hand wrapped around his wrist.
Potter detangled the scarf without a word and draped it over Draco’s shoulders.
“Come on,” he coaxed, gentler this time as he led Draco to the fireplace.
Draco shook his arm off stubbornly, pointedly ignoring Potter’s tired sigh.
****
He didn’t say a word when they emerged in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron, and he remained mutinously silent when Potter led them around the back. He didn’t even say a word when Potter crossed the border wall and led them into Muggle London, that’s how mad he was.
Potter wasn’t in a chatty mood either. He was quiet and methodical as he guided them down the crowded streets. Draco hurried to follow his quickening footsteps. He didn’t know London that well at all, and if Potter decided to abandon him here and fuck off…well, let’s just say Draco had given him ample reason.
Potter stopped abruptly in front of a small bookshop. Draco almost ran into him as he skidded to a halt. He craned his neck to read the sign: The Notting Hill Bookshop.
“In,” Potter ordered gruffly.
Draco ducked his head and obeyed, feeling a bit out of sorts. He had expected to get dragged into a back alley where Potter could yell and curse at him before storming away.
Why a bookshop, he wondered. What was Potter up to?
“Go on.”
Draco started as Potter spoke up from right behind him. He looked tense and irritable as he gestured to the shelves.
“What?” Draco demanded warily.
Potter sighed and pressed two fingers to his forehead. “Go on and pick one,” he elaborated.
Wait. What?
“Pick one for what?” Draco asked.
Potter rolled his eyes. “To read, Draco. I believe you’re familiar with the concept.”
Draco resisted the childish impulse to stick his tongue out at Potter. He turned back to the shelves and scanned them. The section right in front of him was labelled ‘Crime Thrillers’. Oh, that sounded like fun. There were so many genres in Muggle Literature, he doubted he would ever be able to explore all of them. Right now, he was out of time. Potter was waiting on him, and Draco doubted it would be a pleasant conversation.
He picked up a book titled Gone Girl and handed it to Potter. Potter took it, grabbed another book without even glancing at the title and headed to the counter. It took him less than a minute to buy the books and bag them.
Draco watched in wary silence as Potter threw a look over his shoulder and gestured to him to follow.
There was silence again, as they made their way down the street. Potter led, and Draco followed.
“Where are we going?” he asked, almost timidly, when Potter showed no signs of stopping.
“To the park,” Potter answered shortly. “We’re going to enjoy some fresh air and read our books. Quietly. And maybe, once we’ve both calmed down, we can talk this out like civilised adults.”
Draco hunched his shoulders and walked in silence, trying not to feel like a scolded child.
****
The book certainly lived up to its genre. It was absolutely brilliant. Any another time, Draco would have devoured it with relish.
Right now however, he was painfully aware of Potter sitting right next to him, on the bench, idly leafing through his own book and clearly waiting for Draco to finish up.
Draco bit back on a sigh and put the book away. Might as well get this over with. He didn’t know why the prospect of fighting with Potter was so distasteful now. He’d been trying to do it all morning. Somehow, it didn’t feel right after they’d sitting and reading in peaceful silence. His mind was settled now and he didn’t want to invite the chaos back in.
“So,” Potter began. He turned his head and regarded Draco thoughtfully. “Care to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Draco shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Potter rolled his eyes. “You’ve been short with me all morning. You’re snapping at everything and I even noticed you manhandling your precious books today. Don’t tell me you’re not upset.”
How did Potter notice everything? Draco dropped his gaze and fiddled with the ends of his scarf. What could he say? What did Potter expect him to say? Hell, he barely understood it himself.
“Draco.”
Gentle fingers tipped his chin up, holding him in place. Green eyes gazed at him, soft and concerned.
“Talk to me,” Potter coaxed. “Let me help.”
Draco pulled away. “How long are you going to play this game?” he snapped in frustration. “Aren’t you bored already?”
“Bored?” Potter echoed. He sounded honestly surprised and it just irked Draco more. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, stop it,” Draco muttered. “Just stop it, Potter.”
“Draco.” Potter shook his head helplessly. “I can’t fix this if you won’t tell me what’s wrong. Honestly, I thought we were finally getting somewhere.”
“Why are you even bothering with me at all?” Draco barked. The words were coming to him now, in angry, rapid succession. “You’re you! You can’t even walk down the street without people throwing themselves at you! Just snap your fingers and pick one out of the line-up! Why…why would you…we didn’t even kiss yesterday! And you can’t expect me to believe that you won’t…”
“What?” Potter cut in. “Get bored and leave?”
Draco snapped his mouth shut. It sounded even worse when he said it.
“Draco, is that it?” Potter pressed gently. “Is that what’s worrying you?”
“I don’t care if you leave,” Draco grumbled sulkily. “I want you to leave.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You’re being too nice to me, you complete jackass!”
There was silence after his outburst. Potter just stared at him, speechless for once. And then he started laughing. Draco fumed in silence as the bastard practically had a fit, holding on to the bench for support as he guffawed.
“What’s so funny?” Draco demanded.
“You,” Potter managed through his chuckles. “You’re absolutely, completely mad.”
It took him a few minutes, but eventually he stopped. Draco scowled as Potter straightened himself enough to resume the conversation.
“I’m not going to pretend I understood any of that,” Potter told him frankly, “but- and this is just my opinion- you might be overthinking this.”
Draco considered that. Had he? He did have a tendency to draw conclusions and act impulsively.
“Draco, this is all up to you,” Potter said reassuringly. His hand carded through Draco’s hair carefully, brushing it back. “We’re just getting to know each other, remember? And we have all the time to work this out, as much as you want. If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay…well, we’ll work on that when the time comes.”
“I don’t,” Draco mumbled. He knew he was being stubborn, but he didn’t care. Admitting to anything was out of the question. Even if he wasn’t so sure anymore. “Just want the book.”
“Well then, there you go,” Potter conceded. “If you’re so sure, nothing I can do could change your mind. These two weeks should make no difference.”
A lesser man would have given up by now. Draco sighed and shifted, leaning into Potter’s grip just a bit. The snow was starting to fall again, and it was getting cold. Potter took the hint and wrapped an arm around him.
“Feeling better?” he asked softly.
Draco nodded. He was still confused and out of sorts and in unfamiliar territory. But he did feel better. He didn't have to figure it out right this second, he decided. It could wait.
“You make a good point though,” Potter mused, breaking the sudden silence.
“Hm?” Draco murmured, raising his head to look at him.
Potter smiled down at him, and the glint in his eye was dark and warm and familiar. “We didn’t kiss yesterday,” he murmured. His grip tightened just a fraction and Draco’s breath caught. “And it was our first date too.”
“It was not a date,” Draco protested. He sounded a bit breathless, even to his own ears. “It was a hostage situation.”
Potter’s eyes gleamed with sudden, evil inspiration. “Is that so?” he purred. “In that case, I think I’m entitled to make demands.”
Oh.
Draco’s eyes widened as Potter loomed over him, suddenly so close that their lips would brush if he moved another inch.
“Kiss me,” he said, and it was clearly an order- both silk and steel.
Draco swallowed. “No,” he replied, although he wasn’t sure why. Something to do with principles, he imagined…
Potter smiled and leaned in a touch more. “Kiss me or I’ll put the book on eBay.”
Draco didn’t know what that was but it sounded ominous. Potter was making threats- dire threats with alarming consequences. He was obviously in no position to refuse. There was no choice but to give in to Potter’s outrageous demands.
Resistance was futile.
“You monster,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.
Potter’s lips touched his, and Draco’s world exploded into stars.
Part 7
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,800
Rating: R
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 6
Summary: Draco struggles with his insecurities, Harry tries to help.
Warning: Nil
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's notes: Part 6 of the Walk of Shame Series.
Draco woke up the next morning, feeling strangely eager to start the day. Usually it took him an hour and a half to summon up the will to trudge his way to work. But today, he showered and dressed in half his usual time, grabbed an apple and checked to see if Adelaide’s bowl was full. One hasty goodbye later, he was out the door.
Stranger still, he didn’t take the Floo. Normally, it wasn’t even a decision. He would just go straight from his flat to the Library, avoiding the morning rush and spending the day in silence.
But today, was different. He wanted to be out today.
So, Draco walked. He headed through Diagon Alley, only stopping to pick up a scone from the bakery he liked. He took a deep breath, enjoying the bite of brisk wind and the weak sunlight. He even took a moment to browse through Flourish and Blotts. There was one awkward moment when Old Aurelius Flourish recognised him, but apparently, he’d recently commissioned the latest edition of Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit and he was wondering if the Head Archivist would be interested in adding a few copies to the Ministry's Library. Draco declined as politely as he could.
He was already in negotiations for a book, and it was taking everything he had.
As per usual, Potter had made it into his thoughts. Draco mulled over their last meeting as he walked. His mind supplied the oddest selection of memories- green eyes bright with laughter, flecks of snow in messy dark hair, a smile caught between rakish and gentle, strong hands stroking Adelaide gently…
Draco took a deep breath. This would be so much easier if Potter wasn’t so damn attractive. Despite his best efforts, the man was working his way through Draco’s defences. It was getting harder to resist him, and that was a cause for concern.
Harder, Draco told himself, but not impossible.
He firmly reminded himself that Potter had asked for two weeks of his time and nothing else. And there were only a handful of reasons for someone like Potter- star Auror, Saviour of the Magical World and by all accounts, bloody fit bastard- to waste time with an aloof, snappish librarian who rarely had two pleasant words to say to anyone.
One, he was just bored. Two, he liked a challenge. Three, he wasn’t used to hearing the word ‘no’.
There. That was it. Simple as pie, once you actually made a list.
Eventually, Potter would tire of him and go back to saving the world or rescuing kittens from trees or whatever he did in his spare time. This ‘getting to know you’ business was just a phase, and Draco would be wise not to get caught up.
All he wanted from Potter was that book. And that was just as well, because apparently, it was all he was going to get.
The realisation dampened his good mood. Draco walked the rest of the way in a far more sober frame of mind.
****
Potter, curse him, was already there when Draco made it to the Library. He was flicking through a copy of the Daily Prophet and sucking on a Sugar Quill.
Draco’s eyes narrowed and he cast an immediate Evanesco, smirking as Potter blinked at his empty hand.
“No food or drinks near the books,” he said tersely. “How many time do I have to say it before it sticks, Potter?”
Potter didn’t seem fazed by his sour mood or the loss of his Sugar Quill. “Well, it looks like the Butterbeer finally wore off,” he teased lightly.
Draco scowled and stomped over to the Potions and Draughts Section, pulling books out with a lot more force than necessary. He was aware of Potter watching him having a strop, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He just yanked another book off the shelf and headed towards the desk.
“Here,” he spat, tossing the books in front of Potter. They landed heavily on the desk, releasing a cloud of dust. “For your ‘research’ on hallucinogens. If you need me, I’ll be at my desk. Try not to need me.”
Potter didn’t respond. He just watched Draco, brow furrowed and expression speculative. Finally, he nodded and reached for one of the books. Draco watched in stony silence as Potter broke eye contact and started reading.
The lack of reaction made Draco’s gut churn. Potter’s tacit surrender almost made him feel…guilty. Maybe he shouldn’t have snapped like that? Had he just worked himself over a fit for nothing? What if he had, and now Potter was angry with him?
Perfect. Like his life wasn’t complicated enough, now he had this mess to deal with.
The tangle of emotions and feelings and suddenly stifling silence was starting to grate on him. His eyes flicked to Potter again, but the man just went on reading, apparently content to ignore him altogether.
Draco clenched his jaw and headed back to his desk. He had work to do anyway.
And if Potter didn’t want to speak to him anymore, that was just fine.
****
It was not fine. It was not fine at all. Draco was starting to lose his mind.
The altercation- one sided though it may have been- had thrown him off course. Potter’s quiet withdrawal had only stoked the flames. With no outlet to vent his frustration, Draco had taken to handling his complicated situation with grace and maturity.
To make a long story short, he threw a bitch fit.
It started with sneering and rolling his eyes when Potter took too long to turn a page. When that didn’t elicit a reaction, he graduated to scoffing. And when that didn’t work, he just threw decorum out the window and flat out started sniping at Potter.
“Are you still reading that?”
“Have you even turned a page yet?”
“Should I call Hogwarts and have a First Year come down here to explain brewing to you?”
“Good lord, Potter, are those your notes or did your Quill have a fit?”
And yes, he knew he was being insufferable, thank you. But Potter still wasn’t reacting and Draco was on the verge of throwing things around now.
It took another ten minutes of snide commentary before something changed.
Potter shut the book and stood up. Draco- who had been busy berating him on his posture- trailed off as the Auror approached him. Potter looked calm enough but there was a tic in his jaw, and the storm in his eyes was plain as day.
Draco swallowed. Suddenly, he regretted bringing up Potter’s posture. Apparently, it was a sore subject.
Potter approached his desk and Draco suppressed the urge to press back against his chair.
“What?” he muttered ungraciously.
Potter watched him for a few moments. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled, his shoulders relaxed and he turned back to Draco.
“Get your coat.”
Draco stared. “What?”
“Get your coat,” Potter repeated slowly, firmly and with a tone that brooked zero argument. “We’re going for a walk.”
Draco reared up defensively. “One, I’m not some pet you can drag around when the mood strikes you,” he snapped. “And two, I’m not going anywhere right now. I have work to do.”
Potter leaned forward, planting his hands on the desk. His face was inches from Draco’s now, his green eyes were blazing. “One,” he echoed, voice soft and just a touch menacing, “I implied no such thing. And two, if you hadn’t wasted all your time tearing into me, maybe you would have gotten some work done. You have no one but yourself to blame. Now. Get. Your. Coat. We’re going out.”
Potter held his gaze, calm and unruffled. Draco stared back, stubborn and mulish. His eyes started to water and Potter still refused to back down.
Draco sneered and broke eye contact.
“Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Potter roughly. He grabbed his coat from the rack. It surrendered easily enough but his scarf got good and tangled in the process. Draco struggled with it for a good three minutes, cursing under his breath all the while until a hand wrapped around his wrist.
Potter detangled the scarf without a word and draped it over Draco’s shoulders.
“Come on,” he coaxed, gentler this time as he led Draco to the fireplace.
Draco shook his arm off stubbornly, pointedly ignoring Potter’s tired sigh.
****
He didn’t say a word when they emerged in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron, and he remained mutinously silent when Potter led them around the back. He didn’t even say a word when Potter crossed the border wall and led them into Muggle London, that’s how mad he was.
Potter wasn’t in a chatty mood either. He was quiet and methodical as he guided them down the crowded streets. Draco hurried to follow his quickening footsteps. He didn’t know London that well at all, and if Potter decided to abandon him here and fuck off…well, let’s just say Draco had given him ample reason.
Potter stopped abruptly in front of a small bookshop. Draco almost ran into him as he skidded to a halt. He craned his neck to read the sign: The Notting Hill Bookshop.
“In,” Potter ordered gruffly.
Draco ducked his head and obeyed, feeling a bit out of sorts. He had expected to get dragged into a back alley where Potter could yell and curse at him before storming away.
Why a bookshop, he wondered. What was Potter up to?
“Go on.”
Draco started as Potter spoke up from right behind him. He looked tense and irritable as he gestured to the shelves.
“What?” Draco demanded warily.
Potter sighed and pressed two fingers to his forehead. “Go on and pick one,” he elaborated.
Wait. What?
“Pick one for what?” Draco asked.
Potter rolled his eyes. “To read, Draco. I believe you’re familiar with the concept.”
Draco resisted the childish impulse to stick his tongue out at Potter. He turned back to the shelves and scanned them. The section right in front of him was labelled ‘Crime Thrillers’. Oh, that sounded like fun. There were so many genres in Muggle Literature, he doubted he would ever be able to explore all of them. Right now, he was out of time. Potter was waiting on him, and Draco doubted it would be a pleasant conversation.
He picked up a book titled Gone Girl and handed it to Potter. Potter took it, grabbed another book without even glancing at the title and headed to the counter. It took him less than a minute to buy the books and bag them.
Draco watched in wary silence as Potter threw a look over his shoulder and gestured to him to follow.
There was silence again, as they made their way down the street. Potter led, and Draco followed.
“Where are we going?” he asked, almost timidly, when Potter showed no signs of stopping.
“To the park,” Potter answered shortly. “We’re going to enjoy some fresh air and read our books. Quietly. And maybe, once we’ve both calmed down, we can talk this out like civilised adults.”
Draco hunched his shoulders and walked in silence, trying not to feel like a scolded child.
****
The book certainly lived up to its genre. It was absolutely brilliant. Any another time, Draco would have devoured it with relish.
Right now however, he was painfully aware of Potter sitting right next to him, on the bench, idly leafing through his own book and clearly waiting for Draco to finish up.
Draco bit back on a sigh and put the book away. Might as well get this over with. He didn’t know why the prospect of fighting with Potter was so distasteful now. He’d been trying to do it all morning. Somehow, it didn’t feel right after they’d sitting and reading in peaceful silence. His mind was settled now and he didn’t want to invite the chaos back in.
“So,” Potter began. He turned his head and regarded Draco thoughtfully. “Care to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Draco shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Potter rolled his eyes. “You’ve been short with me all morning. You’re snapping at everything and I even noticed you manhandling your precious books today. Don’t tell me you’re not upset.”
How did Potter notice everything? Draco dropped his gaze and fiddled with the ends of his scarf. What could he say? What did Potter expect him to say? Hell, he barely understood it himself.
“Draco.”
Gentle fingers tipped his chin up, holding him in place. Green eyes gazed at him, soft and concerned.
“Talk to me,” Potter coaxed. “Let me help.”
Draco pulled away. “How long are you going to play this game?” he snapped in frustration. “Aren’t you bored already?”
“Bored?” Potter echoed. He sounded honestly surprised and it just irked Draco more. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, stop it,” Draco muttered. “Just stop it, Potter.”
“Draco.” Potter shook his head helplessly. “I can’t fix this if you won’t tell me what’s wrong. Honestly, I thought we were finally getting somewhere.”
“Why are you even bothering with me at all?” Draco barked. The words were coming to him now, in angry, rapid succession. “You’re you! You can’t even walk down the street without people throwing themselves at you! Just snap your fingers and pick one out of the line-up! Why…why would you…we didn’t even kiss yesterday! And you can’t expect me to believe that you won’t…”
“What?” Potter cut in. “Get bored and leave?”
Draco snapped his mouth shut. It sounded even worse when he said it.
“Draco, is that it?” Potter pressed gently. “Is that what’s worrying you?”
“I don’t care if you leave,” Draco grumbled sulkily. “I want you to leave.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You’re being too nice to me, you complete jackass!”
There was silence after his outburst. Potter just stared at him, speechless for once. And then he started laughing. Draco fumed in silence as the bastard practically had a fit, holding on to the bench for support as he guffawed.
“What’s so funny?” Draco demanded.
“You,” Potter managed through his chuckles. “You’re absolutely, completely mad.”
It took him a few minutes, but eventually he stopped. Draco scowled as Potter straightened himself enough to resume the conversation.
“I’m not going to pretend I understood any of that,” Potter told him frankly, “but- and this is just my opinion- you might be overthinking this.”
Draco considered that. Had he? He did have a tendency to draw conclusions and act impulsively.
“Draco, this is all up to you,” Potter said reassuringly. His hand carded through Draco’s hair carefully, brushing it back. “We’re just getting to know each other, remember? And we have all the time to work this out, as much as you want. If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay…well, we’ll work on that when the time comes.”
“I don’t,” Draco mumbled. He knew he was being stubborn, but he didn’t care. Admitting to anything was out of the question. Even if he wasn’t so sure anymore. “Just want the book.”
“Well then, there you go,” Potter conceded. “If you’re so sure, nothing I can do could change your mind. These two weeks should make no difference.”
A lesser man would have given up by now. Draco sighed and shifted, leaning into Potter’s grip just a bit. The snow was starting to fall again, and it was getting cold. Potter took the hint and wrapped an arm around him.
“Feeling better?” he asked softly.
Draco nodded. He was still confused and out of sorts and in unfamiliar territory. But he did feel better. He didn't have to figure it out right this second, he decided. It could wait.
“You make a good point though,” Potter mused, breaking the sudden silence.
“Hm?” Draco murmured, raising his head to look at him.
Potter smiled down at him, and the glint in his eye was dark and warm and familiar. “We didn’t kiss yesterday,” he murmured. His grip tightened just a fraction and Draco’s breath caught. “And it was our first date too.”
“It was not a date,” Draco protested. He sounded a bit breathless, even to his own ears. “It was a hostage situation.”
Potter’s eyes gleamed with sudden, evil inspiration. “Is that so?” he purred. “In that case, I think I’m entitled to make demands.”
Oh.
Draco’s eyes widened as Potter loomed over him, suddenly so close that their lips would brush if he moved another inch.
“Kiss me,” he said, and it was clearly an order- both silk and steel.
Draco swallowed. “No,” he replied, although he wasn’t sure why. Something to do with principles, he imagined…
Potter smiled and leaned in a touch more. “Kiss me or I’ll put the book on eBay.”
Draco didn’t know what that was but it sounded ominous. Potter was making threats- dire threats with alarming consequences. He was obviously in no position to refuse. There was no choice but to give in to Potter’s outrageous demands.
Resistance was futile.
“You monster,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.
Potter’s lips touched his, and Draco’s world exploded into stars.
Part 7