Draco found himself hiding away at his favourite table near the Restriction Section after Potions. He’d been making a habit of coming here every day as a refuge. It was the only place where he could think properly, or sulk, more like it.
This week proved to be a terrible one. Draco’s mood was already foul, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t focus in his classes. He could hardly control his fox Patronus in Charms, and he blew up his cauldron for the first time in Potions. Then, there were the Slytherins and the rest of the school, all who were afraid that Draco would bite their heads off if they approached him. This normally wouldn’t have bothered him, except he was no longer speaking to Pansy or Blaise.
Draco had demanded for an explanation from them as soon as he learned about their bet about him and Harry. Blaise had brushed the whole thing off and Pansy had tried to assure him that it had been a joke. That had made everything so much worse, knowing that they’d care more about Galleons than their own friend. Draco had wasted no time telling them off. He knew that Blaise and Pansy would have kept going if he didn’t threaten to hex their arses off. They’d eventually left Draco alone. And alone he was, especially since he no longer had Harry.
Merlin, how did he fuck up so badly? Draco could still remember that day after Defence Against the Dark Arts; the fury in those green eyes, the way hot breath ghosted against his skin and the fingers that had grabbed his collar roughly. He hated how Potter had eventually become Harry to him in such a short time, not that Draco would ever admit it to anyone. But hearing Harry tell him that what they’d shared meant nothing had hurt more than it should have. Only days ago, Harry had been obliged to get down on his knees, taking Draco’s cock into his mouth greedily. And Harry hadn’t complained when Draco had returned the favour, sucking Harry off until he came.
His time with Harry might have seemed purely sexual, but deep down, Draco knew better. They had just started to get to really know each other when he’d dared himself to bring up the war. Their recent Occlumency demonstration had raised a lot of unanswered questions. Draco wanted to know more about Harry’s childhood and his mission to defeat the Dark Lord. It had only been fair to share a few secrets of his own when Harry had asked about his seventh year at Hogwarts.
As difficult as it had been to revisit memories that he desperately wanted to forget, Draco had owed Harry that much. Harry could have left Draco to burn in the Fiendfyre or let the Wizengamot send him to Azkaban, but he hadn’t done either. Draco had also wanted to be honest. His life had been filled with lies, and for once, he’d wanted the truth. He’d hoped that this was the first step to get Harry to trust him, and maybe like him for who he was.
Now, that hope was shattered.
Draco sighed heavily as he fingered the small slip lying on top of his notes.
The fortune was mocking him, he was sure of it. He had no idea why Weasley hadn't sacked the idiot writing such rubbish based off of poetry and metaphors.
Who was he kidding? Maybe the fortune had a point. All things certainly had to come to an end. Draco was a fool. Having a desire for someone was one thing, but pursuing it was another. Now, Harry hated Draco more than ever, only because Pansy and Blaise couldn’t keep their damn mouths shut. Draco had tried to explain himself, doing what he could to catch Harry’s attention in the corridors and during classes. He even sent Harry notes via owl, but nothing made a difference. Harry began avoiding him, and Draco’s notes were sent back, all unopened. So much for honesty.
Draco was about to pack up when he heard a familiar low voice that made him look up and freeze.
Harry and Dean Thomas were only two tables away, engaged in a deep conversation. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that Harry had been hanging out with Thomas more recently. Draco rarely saw him with Granger and Weasley, and it was even stranger to see Thomas without Finnigan. Of course, there were hundreds of rumours floating around for why this could be, but Draco chose to ignore them all.
Draco gritted his teeth together before exhaling slowly. Who dared to disturb him now? He followed the cast over him and narrowed his eyes when he found a curious Daphne Greengrass looking back.
“Can I help you?” he bit out acidly.
“Just thought I’d see how you’re doing,” Daphne replied casually, pulling out a chair and setting her bag down. “You don’t mind if I sit here do you? Good.”
“If you’re only here to deliver a message from Parkinson or Zabini…” started Draco grumpily, but Daphne shook her head and shushed him. He was about to protest when she gestured toward the main desk.
It was a good thing too, because Madam Pince was now shooting him a nasty look. Draco couldn’t help but cringe. How was he supposed to escape now, with Pince staring at him like a vulture, Daphne asking him questions, and Harry and Thomas in his vicinity? This could not end well.
The sound of scratching got Draco’s attention immediately. He watched as Daphne scribbled something quick on a fresh piece of parchment before thrusting it in his direction.
It was true. He didn’t know if this was something that could be fixed. Draco wanted to fix things with Harry, but if Harry didn’t want it…
“You don’t believe me.”
It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement. While he might not be the best of friends with Daphne, she knew enough. Draco pursed his lips together, refusing to give an answer.
“You haven’t been like this since you and Pansy—”
“We are not going to talk about that.”
“Look, I know this is about Potter. Don’t give me that look,” added Daphne, rolling her eyes when Draco glared at her. “Pansy and Blaise told me what happened. You don’t really think they’d intentionally try to hurt you, do you?”
“You’d be surprised,” muttered Draco darkly. He glanced at the main desk, relieved that Pince was now pestering a third year for vandalising a table.
“How long has this been going on?”
“You and Potter. Not that I count all the years of unresolved sexual tension that’s been gradually building up, but when did you finally—you know—”
“What is this really about, Greengrass?” demanded Draco in a hushed tone. “Are you trying to get some gossip, or are you sincerely trying to help me? Because I already have enough shit to deal with to last me a lifetime!”
Daphne averted her eyes and bit her lip. “I really do want to help you, Draco,” she murmured after a moment.
Draco sighed. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to accept a little help with his situation. “Right. Then we’ll discuss this when we’re out of earshot.”
With that, he slipped the fortune in his pocket and stacked his notes together to put into his bag. Daphne slipped the note, ink pot and quill into her bag, and together they made their way out of the library. Of course, Draco knew it wouldn’t be that easy to slip away when Thomas stopped them in their tracks.
“Hey, Daphne! Malfoy,” greeted Thomas, waving them over.
Draco smiled tightly and nodded. He could be polite for a moment or so. He noticed that Harry became suddenly interested in his copy of Advanced Potion-Making as he and Daphne came nearer. It made his heart clench, but Draco tried his best to stay cool and collected.
“Hello yourself,” acknowledged Daphne with a smirk. “So it’s official then? You’re out of the closet?”
“Um…not exactly,” answered Dean, looking embarrassed. “I was drunk—”
“That’s a bullshit story, Thomas. But if you want me to take your word for it, I will.”
“It’s a pity, too, because you were quite good in bed. I guess it won’t be long before one lucky bloke will find that out soon.”
“What?! You both shagged before?” hissed Harry, looking from Daphne to Thomas with wide eyes. “You never told me that, Dean!”
“Well, you remember the few times when I—”
“Okay, nice to chat with you, Thomas, but we really need to go now,” interrupted Draco, not keen on hearing exactly what he and Daphne did together. “Merlin, my ears!”
“Wait a minute,” said Daphne, grabbing Draco’s arm and yanking it back. “Potter—”
“Potter, are you staying here for the Easter holidays?”
Draco tensed. He wanted to smack himself for forgetting how sneaky and manipulative Slytherin girls were. But he knew what was coming next, and that this could be the end of him. Daphne was trying to set something up, and Draco didn’t want to be any part of it. Draco pulled his arm out of her grip and headed for the door. That was, until his bag caught onto Harry’s chair, making him spill his notes onto the floor.
He bent down to retrieve them, but then a hand brushed against his. A strange shock passed through his fingers, and that was when Draco looked up to see Harry on his knees as well. Harry was trying to help him collect his notes. Then, they met each other’s gaze. Draco held his breath.
In those green eyes, he wanted to see the longing and desperation every time he came this close to Harry. It was an expression that was always on Harry’s face, right before they’d kiss or suck each other. But when Draco looked closer, all he could see was curiosity, and something that looked like pity.
Draco hastily grabbed the parchment rolls that soared into his hands and shoved them into his bag. Voices were calling after him and he knew he was making a scene, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that he couldn’t stand the look in Harry’s eyes, stand the thought that nothing could ever happen between them. Draco had to get out of there, he just had to. So, being the coward he was, he finally ran for it.
Goodness! *hugs Draco* Poor chap is taking his parting with Harry rather hard. He really seems to care about him too. Will Harry realise it before it's too late? And what's Daphne got up her sleeve? Stay tuned for more, and bear with me! I'll be catching up with some fun stuff from the Easter Hols and towards the end of term! I promise! Cheers!
Need to catch up? Start out with the first post! Don't forget to watch the community here for more updates!