Mother Knows Best
Chapter Seven
Seven Weeks
Draco was sitting in the cafeteria at lunch, carefully picking the tomato out of his grilled chicken salad. He was surrounded by a ridiculous amount of artfully placed cobwebs, orange and black steamers, and poorly carved pumpkins sitting upon the surface of every table. Draco was no expert when it came to Halloween decorations, but he was pretty sure that pumpkins were supposed to have scary faces carved into them. However, the one Draco was glaring at couldn't be interpreted as a face by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it was a perfect carving of a hand flipping him the bird. Seemed like the first years went a little overboard this Halloween.
"Am I gonna have to separate the two of you?"
Draco turned his glare from the offending pumpkin to the grinning face of the speaker, Potter, who had just sat down across from him. In response, he turned the pumpkin around to face the other boy, making him laugh at what was carved there.
Almost seven weeks had passed since the incident in the kitchens, yet Draco felt as if it'd only been a week or so. Halloween was only a week away now and Hogwarts had enough tacky decoration to prove it. Students were already starting to get excited about it. Not necessarily about Halloween, but about the events that would take place on that night.
Being a boarding school, Hogwarts couldn't exactly allow it's students to go to any parties or haunted houses or, God forbid, go 'trick or treating' in the city of Merlin. So to make up for this fact, Dumbledore arranged for a talent show to be held on that night. He usually went all out for this event, even inviting parents and faculty to watch the performances. Since the students couldn't trust the teachers taste in music, everybody was allowed to vote for the best act. Even the students in the private building couldn't help but get even a little cheerful this time of year.
Even though it was suppose to be something for the students to look forward to, Draco couldn't bring himself to feel any of the excitment that his schoolmates were feeling. It only served to remind him of how soon he would be leaving dorm room number sixty-six.
About seven weeks ago, it couldn't have happened sooner, he'd been looking forward to it, leaving the dormitories and moving back into a private room, but now, he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Something had changed since that first day of school, that night in the kitchens. He just wasn't sure what exactly.
Draco came out of his thoughts when a hand snatched one of the uneaten cherry tomatoes from his plate. He looked up, seeing Potter give him a little grin before popping the ranch-covered fruit into his mouth. Draco knew the raven only did it to get his attention, but he made a disgusted face at the action nevertheless, which only made Potter laugh.
"What? It's not like you were gonna eat it," Potter justified, moving his bag over so Weasley could take the seat beside him.
That was another thing. His roommates had become increasingly comfortable around him, which was surprising to say the least. Most of the time, they even ate their meals together. Potter always took every opportunity to be around him, and Draco couldn't say that he wasn't just a bit happy about that. And since the night he'd lied to Professor McGonnagal about Potters whereabouts, his other roommates seemed like were actually starting to trust him, like him even.
The same could not be said, however, about the students residing in the private building. Everyday he was seen with Potter and his other roommates, he would receive strange, questioning looks from his former 'friends', looks that conveyed their sense of betrayal and wonderment at why Draco Malfoy of all people was slumming. Almost none of them dared to approach him about it, for which he was glad, but it was a little strange to see Crabbe and Goyle following Pansy around now that he'd stepped out of the spotlight.
"Hey, Malfoy. There goes your girlfriend," Weasley informed him, looking toward the entrance while opening packet after packet of ketchup to pour over his fries. It was starting to look more like soup now, though.
Draco didn't bother looking up, already knowing who the redhead was talking about and not wanting to catch her attention.
"Last year she was practically glued to your side," Finnigan commented, then turned to Draco. "So, Malfoy, tell us, did Malkinson split?" he questioned, doing an impression of a reporter as he held out an imaginary microphone.
Everyone looked up at the Irishman with a strange expression, though really, they should all be well used to Finnigans randomness by now. "Malkinson?" Potter finally asked, voicing everyone's question.
"Yeah, you know... Malfoy plus Parkinson equals Malkinson," Finnigan explained, like it was something they should already know.
"Looks like someones been reading too many teen magazines," Draco commented, earning a chuckle from Potter.
Draco knew that Pansy hadn't given up on him yet, not by a long-shot, but he also knew that there was no way she would let herself be seen with anyone from the dorm building, excluding himself of course, and anytime she saw him alone, she wouldn't hesitate to start interrogating him. He tried to avoid her as much as possible, and Potter, though he never said anything about it, seemed to pick up on this fact because Draco could think of more than a few instances that Potter saved him from her incessant questioning by simply showing up at the right time. Draco could only be grateful that the girl's reputation meant more to her than he did.
Finnigan scoffed. "Why read teen magazines when we have TDP?"
Potter looked up at him, curious. "What's that?" he asked.
"The Daily Profit. It's a gossip website about celebrities and their children. Nothing but defamational slander," Blaise explained, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"That's exactly why he loves it," Thomas said, making Finnigan nod and grin in agreement.
"He would," Draco scoffed.
"You're just mad 'cause they write about you and you're parents all the time," Weasley smirked.
Potter looked at him questioningly, but Draco ignored him, glaring at the redhead instead. He couldn't argue, though. That website had done nothing but spread rumors about his family. One reporter, Rita Skeeter, had written an article about his father having an affair with his assistant. She even claimed to have some incriminating pictures of them together, but a day after they showed up on the website, they mysteriously disappeared. Or so they claimed. Some of what they wrote was the truth, but most of it was just bullshit written for shock value. For this very reason, Draco never trusted a word they said unless they had indisputable evidence.
"Hello, boys," Granger greeted, sitting down next to her redheaded boyfriend. She must've remembered something because she snapped her fingers and looked over to Potter. "Hey, Harry. I heard your godfather had a show somewhere in Merlin this weekend," she told him, catching everyones interest.
Potter looked up from his food and nodded, swallowing before he spoke. "Yeah, It's downtown at Eighth & Rail. That's where I went last Friday, it's pretty cool. They usually wouldn't play in such a small place, but Peter, The Marauders' manager, owed the owner a favor."
"I heard about that place. Are you going?" Blaise asked, interested.
"I don't know. Probably," Potter answered flippantly. He was about to go back to his lunch when he noticed that they were all still staring at him. He smiled, picking up his fork and pretending to be nonchalant. "What? You guys wanna come?" he asked.
"Hell yeah, we want to come!" Finnigan exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and earning a reproachful glare from Snape and McGonnagal for his outburst. "But isn't Eighth & Rail, like, a bar?" he asked in a much quieter tone, sitting back down.
"Well, it has a bar. So, yeah, they don't usually let you in if you're underage," Potter shrugged. "I'll talk to Sirius about it. Who all wants to come?"
"Us!" Finnigan beamed, raising Thomas' hand with his own.
"Count me in," Blaise grinned.
Potter looked at the redhead in expectance. Weasley shook his head sadly. "Sorry, Harry. Moine's making me go to some lame museum with her and her parents on Saturday," he grumbled.
Granger rolled her eyes at him. "I'm sure you'll survive, Ron," she said.
"Are you sure this isn't any trouble, Harry? We wont need fake ID's, will we?" Thomas asked, only half-serious.
"It's fine," Potter answered, waving it off. Then he looked at Draco. "What about you, Draco? You coming?"
Even though they really should've been used to it by now, everyone at their table glanced up at Potter calling Draco by his first name.
Weasley snorted, interrupting Draco, who was about to say no. "Malfoy? At a bar? Are you kidding?"
"And what's that suppose to mean, Weasel?" Draco asked, cold eyes narrowed.
"It means that you're to much of a priss and you're daddy would never let you," Weasley answered, shrugging. "You probably only listen to classical music anyway," he added.
"And what's wrong with classical music?" Granger asked her boyfriend, hands on her hips.
Weasley didn't look at her but held up his hands as if in surrender. "Nothing, nothing at all. All I'm trying to say is, it just isn't his scene. He is not going to want to go," he explained to them as if they where mentally handicapped five-year-olds.
Draco glared hatefully at the redhead. "Of course I would," he said spitefully.
The bell sounded, telling the students that lunch was over. Everyone around them stood, but no one at their table did. They were all too busy staring at Draco, absolutely stunned.
"Great," Potter beamed at him, making Draco realize what he'd just agreed to.
"I-I would, but... I don't have a ride," Draco lied, cursing himself mentally for stuttering. It was a lie, of course, but even he had to admit that the Weasel actually was at least partly right. A bar definitely wasn't his scene. Mostly because he'd never been to one before in his life.
"That's okay, you'll ride with me then," Potter smiled, standing.
Wondering if Potter knew that he really didn't want to go and just didn't care, Draco sighed. "Wonderful," he said dispassionately, standing as well.
The weekend came faster than Draco expected it to. Two days after he agreed to go and an hour and a half before the show, Draco was staring at his reflection in the mirror of the dorm room. Well, he wasn't staring so much as glaring at it. Most of his roommates were hanging out in the rec room, leaving only Potter and himself in the dorm.
"You're not wearing that are you?" Potter laughed, coming up behind him and making eye-contact with him through the mirror. He was in his usual clothes, and Draco felt a bit indignant that someone who wore clothes either way too big or way too small would have something to say about what he chose to wear.
Draco raised a perfect eyebrow. "And what exactly is wrong with what I'm wearing, Potter? Do you have any idea how much this outfits costs?"
"Well..." he paused, stepping forward and pulling the label out from Draco's jacket. His fingers brushed Draco's neck, making him tense a bit at the contact and how close they were now. "Considering your mom made it, my guess would have to be nothing," Potter laughed, walking away.
Draco threw a glare over his shoulder. "Oh, and you have room to talk? Those jeans have more chains on them than a prison escapee. Try not to get near any magnets now," he said bitterly, over-exaggerating to the max. Really, the only chain he ever wore was connected to his wallet.
"Don't be jealous, Draco. With a little help, you could be just as sexy," Potter smirked sarcastically, opening a drawer. It took Draco a minute to realize that it was his clothes the boy was going through.
"Potter!"
The raven-haired boy seemed to have found what he was looking for and closed the drawer. "Yeah?" he answered calmly, either ignoring or not noticing Draco's tone as he went over to his own clothes a selected something red from the bottom drawer. After closing it, he walked up to Draco and unbuttoned his jacket, slipping it off. Draco was too stunned to say anything for a moment.
"What are you-"
"Raise your arms," Potter instructed, then raised his shirt before Draco could protest to reveal a plain white wife-beater, which was taken off as well, leaving Draco topless. He threw it onto Draco's bed and lifted the shirt he'd picked out.
Draco snatched it out of his grasp, uncomfortable with feeling this naked in front of Potter. "I'm not your barbie doll, Potty. I think I can dress myself," he said, then looked down at what he was holding. The first thing Draco looked at was the label, revealing a name he'd never heard of before. It wasn't his size and he was sure it wouldn't fit him unless he was poured into it. He wondered why Potter had it, because if it wouldn't fit him then he knew that there was absolutely no way Potter could wear it without it tearing at the seams.
"There is no way I'm wearing this thing. It looks like it came from the children's section," Draco protested, throwing it at the other boy, who caught it and threw it back at him.
"Trust me, it'll look good. Just put it on," Potter sighed, leaning on the frame of Draco's bed.
Draco sighed, but did as he was told. "There. Are you happy now? I look like you," he complained, studying his reflection in the mirror.
The shirt fit a little better than he thought it would, which wasn't saying much, but still, every time he moved, the shirt rode up, showing his perfectly flat stomach. The sleeves went passed his elbows, ending at the white cuffs, and the white winged collar just barely covered his collarbone, but Draco was sure that he'd never worn anything so revealing in public.
Potter laughed, throwing him the black waistcoat that he'd taken from Draco's drawer. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now stop your pouting and put that over it."
"Pretty bossy today, aren't we?" Draco said, rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, he slipped the vest on and buttoned it. He had to admit that it did look a bit better and he didn't feel quite so naked anymore, but Draco still thought he looked ridiculous. Red definitely wasn't his color, he decided, noticing how it made his already pink lips look darker and his face overall more effeminate, which as a teenage boy hiding his sexually, wasn't what he was going for. Normally, Draco didn't allow much color into his wardrobe, much like his father in that respect.
"See? What'd I tell you? Much better," Potter commented, throwing him his jacket. "Now, let's go," he said, grabbing his keys from his desk.
"Now? We still have..." he paused, checking his watch. "An hour left before they even open. Ever heard of the expression, 'fashionably late'?"
"Nothing wrong with being fashionably early," Potter quipped. "Plus, I told Sirius I'd help him set up."
Draco had never been on a motorcycle before and he couldn't help but cling to Potter like a lifeline when he started it up. The wind made his skin feel strange, he was sure that the helmet completely messed up his hair, and to top it off, Potter drove above the speed limit the entire way there. It was something he was pretty sure he never wanted to experience again, but strangely, that thought evaporated when a slight thrill was sent through him as he imagined what his father would say if he knew about this.
Downtown Merlin was an architectural wasteland. The streets were made of cracked red bricks and the streetlights looked like old-fashion lanterns. Most of the buildings, which dated back to the late eighteen hundreds, had been renovated, but a lot of them looked like they would soon meet their doom in the form of a wrecking-ball. That is, if they didn't collapse in on themselves first.
Standing tall at the corner of Eighth Street and Railroad Avenue was the rightly named building of Eighth & Rail, located in the most congested part of downtown Merlin. The building itself was renovated, three storied tall and imposing in a way that spoke of just how ancient it was. For some reason, Potter parked around back, which meant they had to walk around front in order to get in.
Once they were inside, Draco paused and took a look around. The employees mostly ignored them, too busy getting ready for the night to come. The first thing he noticed about the place was that it smelled like cinnamon and coffee beans, giving it a warm, cozy feeling and something by Kevin Michael was playing through the sound system. Long, velvet red curtains hung from the high ceilings, down passed the thick white baseboards to the dark, hardwood floors. The red walls were covered in mirrors and beautiful artwork of musicians and various instruments, which he guessed probably came from the gallery next door. A display case sat in front of the bar by a host seating table, showing off gourmet cakes and other fancy deserts that went with their wide coffee selection.
During the past several weeks, Draco came to find that Potter was a very physical person. At first, he was very uncomfortable when Potter would put his arm around him or played with his hair, but then Draco realized he did those kind of things with everyone. Well, not as often as he did with Draco, but definitely overly familiar with everyone in the same respect. It was like he constantly needed to be touching something tangible.
Blaise had brought it up a couple weeks ago, being the psychological person that he is, when Potter told them that his parents died when he was really young. He said that the reason Potter constantly needed contact was because he probably didn't get enough attention as a child. Draco thought Potter would've taken offence to that, because Draco knew that he definitely would, had it been him, but all Potter did was shrug and say that it made sense.
But whether or not that was the reason, the fact was the same. Potter was a very physical person. It still made Draco a little uncomfortable when Potter touched him, but mostly, he'd gotten used to it. That was why Draco almost didn't notice Potter take his hand to lead him passed the bar and into the back.
Two men were sitting on a the edge of the stage and it took a second for Draco to realize that it was Potters godfather and Professor Lupin. Right when they were less than ten feet away from the two, Draco's eyes widened when...
They kissed.
It was chaste, nothing worth grabbing any ones attention, but it was definitely enough to make Draco stop walking. And it was enough to wipe away all the suspicion Draco had about Potter and Lupin's relationship. He supposed it made sense now; the reason they were so close must've been because Lupin was his godfathers boyfriend. Draco felt foolish, assuming that Potter and Lupin or Potter and Black were together just because of a hug and a kiss on the head. He felt foolish because ever since the very day he met Potter, he'd been thinking the boy was gay and having a relationship with one of the men twice his age. Never had the thought occurred to him that Potter was straight, which, Draco thought, he probably was.
"Hey, guys," Potter greeted, as if he hadn't seen anything unusual. Though, Draco figured, if Lupin was Black's boyfriend, then Potter must've been pretty used to it by now.
"Harry!" they chorused, beaming at him. "Who's..." Potter's godfather trailed off, raising a brow at their still connected hands. Following his line of sight, Draco immediately let go and crossed his arms over his chest, embarrassed.
"...This?" Black finished, giving Potter a wide-eyed, curious look. Lupin covered his mouth with his hand to unsuccessfully smother a giggle.
Potter coughed. "Oh, um, this is my roommate, Draco," he answered.
"Nice to see you, Mr Malfoy," Lupin smiled.
"Professor," Draco greeted, only a bit uncomfortable with seeing his teacher outside of school.
"Malfoy?" Black questioned slowly, suddenly looking a little distrustful as he looked at Draco. It was expected, so it didn't really effect the blond.
Potter cocked an eyebrow at his godfather. "You know him?"
"We're distant cousins," Draco informed him.
"Whoa. Really? Small world," Potter laughed.
"Um, Harry. Petie's upstairs," Black said, picking up his guitar and standing up. "I told him you were coming."
"You don't, er, need any help?" Potter offered, looking uncomfortable and reluctant all of a sudden.
"We can handle it, Harry. Go see Peter. You haven't seen him since... Well, you know..." Lupin trailed off, giving Potter a significant look and patting him on the back.
Potter stared at him for a moment, suddenly stoic. "Sure," he answered in monotone, shrugging Lupins had off his shoulder and turning around.
Draco decided to go with him, not having anything better to do, but once Potter saw that Lupin and Black weren't paying attention anymore, he turned, heading for the bar. Looking at Draco, Potter put a finger to his lips, getting his message across to Draco, who nodded.
Once seated and out of sight, Draco turned to Potter, who looked deep in thought. "So, what was that about?"
Potter shrugged, but didn't answer, staring at a pile of black employee uniform T-shirts on the other side of the bar. Suddenly, he looked up at Draco, a mischievous smirk dancing across his lips. Draco raised a brow at the sudden mood swing.
"I don't know about you, but I could use a drink," the raven told him, standing up. "What do you say, Draco? A Cum Shot? A Slippery Nipple? A Slow Comfortable Screw?" Potter teased, taking off his jacket.
Draco glared. "You're disgusting, Potter, you know that? And do you happen to see a bartender anywhere?"
Potter flashed him a quick smile before reaching across the bar and snatching one of the uniform shirts, looking around to see if anyone was watching. "I do now," he said after pulling it over his head.
Draco blinked. "You're going to get caught, I hope you know that," he told him, not a hundred percent against the idea himself.
"We'll see," Potter shrugged. Quickly, he went behind the bar. "So what do you want?"
Draco decided to play along. If Potter got caught, then that was his problem. "What can you make?"
Potter leaned against the bar and held out a drink menu. "Whatever you want," he answered smugly.
Draco gave him a doubtful look, but took the menu. Opening it from the middle, he picked the first thing he saw. "A Jolly Rancher."
Potter smirked, then turned around to reach for a rock glass. After filling it with ice, he set it aside, then grabbed a taller glass and filled it with ice also. He selected a green bottle from behind him and held it up for Draco to see. "Three quarters Apple Pucker," he informed, then, with the assistance from a shot measure, he poured it into the taller glass. "Three quarters Peach Schnapps," he said, doing the same with another bottle. He put the two bottles back and went below the bar, taking a plastic bottle from the mini-fridge and adding a bit before putting it back. "And a splash of cranberry juice."
Draco watched in interest as Potter shook the cocktail shaker like a professional. He picked up the rock glass, throwing the ice into the sink, before straining the liquid into the chilled glass. Placing it in front of Draco, Potter grinned. "Drink up."
Draco eyed it critically before he went to take a small sip, which made Potter laugh. "It's a shooter, Draco. You drink it all at once."
"How do I know you haven't poisoned it?" Draco asked cynically, but nevertheless, downed the drink.
"Well?"
"Ah. I'm impressed, Potter. Mind telling me how you learned all of this?" Draco questioned, a brow raised. He added the ability to come off as a professional bartender to the list of many mysterious things he knew about the raven.
Potters smile dropped. "...I paid attention," he answered vaguely. "Er, how 'bout I make you one more?" he offered, not waiting for an answer as he took out a martini glass.
Draco knew what he was doing, but didn't call him on it. He was used to Potter avoiding the question when he got uncomfortable with the subject. "Did you bring me here to get me drunk? Planning to take advantage of me?" Draco asked him jokingly.
Potter laughed. "If I wanted to get you drunk and fuck you, I wouldn't bring you here. Even if you weremy type," he told him, and Draco almost choked on air at how utterly obscene Potter could be at times. He had to wonder, though, what the ravens type was exactly and if 'female' was on the list of qualifications. "Trust me, you're not gonna get drunk from one shooter and a martini," Potter scoffed.
Amazingly, he finished with Draco's drink and a drink for himself without any of the staff questioning him. He got more than a couple looks from the employees, but nobody said anything. Smirking, he placed Draco's drink in front of him.
"It's pink," Draco stated slowly, staring at the offending liquid. Potter didn't look up, but Draco could still see his shoulders shaking from suppressed laughter. He finished cleaning up his mess and grabbed his own drink, finally coming out from behind the bar.
Potter gave him a mock-surprised look. "It is? I guess it's your type of drink then."
Draco kicked him. "Fuck you, Pothead! You suck at gay jokes."
"Ouch! Sorry," Potter laughed, taking off the uniform shirt and throwing it on top of the counter with the others without bothering to fold it. "It's a Cosmopolitan. You'll like it."
Draco groaned theatrically, but downed the girly drink to get it over with. He was absolutely surprised to find that Potter was right; he actually did like it. Not that he would admit that. Ever. It was much better than the Jolly Rancher, though, definitely.
Potter checked his watch. "Their opening in a couple minutes, lets get a seat," he suggested. He put his empty glass on the other side of the bar for someone else to take care of and put his jacket back on. He took Draco's hand to lead him away, but after the embarrassment he suffered from what happened last time, Draco snatched it back, earning a strange look from the raven.
Hours later, Finnigan, Thomas, and Blaise were seated with them on the couches right in front of the stage, watching The Marauders finish their last set. Draco was mildly surprised that he actually liked their music. He didn't think Black would be as talented as he was. Too talented to play in downtown Merlin, in fact. Whoever this Peter was, The Marauders' manager, Draco thought he seriously needed to be replaced if he had them play in such a small place, favor or not.
After Potter said goodbye to Lupin and his godfather, they went to leave, only to be stopped by one of the bartenders.
"Harry!"
Potter turned around and smiled. "Oh, hey. I didn't know you were working tonight," he said, leaning over the bar to give her a kiss on the cheek.
The girl looked way to young to be working behind the bar, but she was wearing a uniform, so unless she had the same idea as Potter had, Draco was pretty sure she worked there. The girl had unnaturally straight, short black hair and her big blue eyes were covered in black makeup. Her lips were coated in blood-red lipstick that just screamed she was probably as much of a slut as she looked. That, and she spoke with a low voice that Draco could only guess she thought was one-eight-hundred-number sexy. She had a nose-ring, her name tag said 'Jamie', and Draco instantly disliked her.
"Yep. Me and Jesse 'til midnight," she answered distractedly, handing some guy his beer.
"Oh, Jesse's here?"
"Right here," someone answered from behind them.
Draco turned around to see a boy, who looked exactly like Jamie. Draco figured they must be twins. He was wearing the same thing as her, too. Though not any lipstick, thankfully. They had the same haircut, same everything. He almost had enough eye-makeup on to rival his sister and he, too, had a nose-ring.
"Hey, Harry," the boy beamed, walking up to Potter with a tray of half-empty glasses and gave Potter a quick hug, causing him to spill something dangerously close to Draco's shoes. Draco glared at him, but it went unnoticed.
"Oh, this is my friend, Draco," Potter introduced. Draco wondered at that moment when they'd become friends.
"Just a friend?" They both asked in creepy unison.
"And roommate," Potter added.
"Right. Well, would you and your roommate like a drink?" Jamie asked.
"We were just leaving, actually," Draco cut in.
"That's too bad," Jamie said. She winked at Potter, who blew a kiss back at her.
Draco suddenly felt a little nauseous. Maybe he was coming down with heterophobia.
"Hey, Harry. Isn't that... ?" Jesse trailed off, pointing to a sleazy man, who was downing shots and talking with other sleazy men at one of the tables. Draco had seen people like that before. People with dilated pupils, facial sores and bad teeth like these guys. Draco knew that all of them were probably completely strung out on something.
The man Jesse had pointed out looked their way and his glassy eyes landed on Potter, squinting to get a better look. "Harry?"
"Hey, Peter," Potter said, holding up a hand in a pathetic excuse for a wave. He didn't sound very excited at all, though it sounded like he was trying to be. He wasn't smiling either, which sort of surprised Draco. Every time he saw Potter -hell, just a few seconds ago- the boy was grinning and looked friendly, but now, he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
The man stood up and walked over to where they were standing, sitting on one of the bar stools. "What are you doing here, Harry? I thought you were living with the, uh," the man trailed of, scratching at his thinning hair.
"The Dursley's. Yeah, I was, but I'm in Hogwarts now," Potter said, pleasantly enough. "Oh, er, this is Draco. Draco, this is Peter Pettigrew."
"Hey there," the man said, nodding to Draco, who didn't return the favor, then looked at Potter with a small, almost nervous smile on his face. "Wow. The last time I saw you was last year when we were in Surrey. Man, that was a blast, wasn't it?"
At that, Potter glared, his eyes darkening to an intense shade of green that never failed to put Draco on edge. "No. It wasn't," he answered coldly.
"Oh! You'll have to forgive me, Harry. I forgot all about, um, what's his name?"
"Cedric," Potter grounded out.
Draco had absolutely no idea what was going on. Looking down, he noticed Potters hands were actually shaking, before they were clenched into tight fists. Draco knew that shit was about to hit the fan.
"Yeah, him. That was such a shame. Looks like you got another one though, huh?" Pettigrew laughed obnoxiously, motioning to Draco, who couldn't quite hold back a look of total disgust even though he didn't really know what the man was talking about. And Potter, well, if looks could kill, Potter would have to find somewhere to hide this man's body.
"Excuse me? What the hell is this to you, a joke?" Potter seethed.
"Just tryin' to lighten the mood a little, Harry. Don't take it personally," Pettigrew told him.
Potter's eyes went wide and he gaped. "Don't take it personally? Just who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"
"Christ, Potter. Calm down," Draco tried to intervene, grabbing Potters sleeve as if to pull him away and honestly a little scared when the raven jerked out of his grasp. Everyone was already watching the scene in interest, hoping for a fight.
"You were there, Peter! You know what happened. How the hell can you even joke about that shit?"
Pettigrew sighed. "Listen, Harry. Cedric-"
"I don't-!" Potter started, pausing to take a deep breath and run a shaky hand through his hair. "I don't want to hear it. Just keep his fucking name out of your mouth," he ordered. He turned, as if walking away, before turning back, giving Pettigrew a sweet smile. "Boy was it great seeing you again, Pete." And with that, Potter stormed off.
Draco sent a dirty look to Pettigrew and tried to follow him, only to be held back by someone. Turning around, Draco was surprised to see Blaise. "What are you still doing here?" Draco asked him.
"I was about to leave when I saw what happened. Whats going on?"
Draco sighed. "Hell if I know."
"Well, do you need a ride or something?" Blaise asked him worriedly.
"No, you go ahead. We'll be there soon," he said, about to walk away when Blaise stopped him again. Draco shot him an annoyed look.
"Be careful?" Blaise suggested.
Draco was confused. Since when did Blaise care this much about him? And what did he need to be careful about? Despite this, he nodded and walked away. He tried to find Potter's godfather or Lupin, thinking they might've seen him, but they were nowhere in sight. Eighth & Rail was still pretty crowded, which made his search more difficult. After ten minutes of searching, he gave up and went outside, using the back door. Potter's bike was still where it was parked, so Draco knew he was still there. He decided to wait and let Potter find him. It didn't take very long.
Leaning on the hood of someones car, he tried to relax, listening to the music he could still hear coming from the building behind him. The second he lit up a cigarette, he jumped, dropping his lighter, when something dropped next to him from the sky. Or rather, the fire escape.
"Shit, Potter! Do you get off on sneaking up on me?"
Potter didn't answer, but took the cigarette from Draco's hand and threw it into a puddle. "You should quit," he told the blond for the hundredth time that month.
Draco would've been seriously pissed had he not been used to it. He had no idea why, but Potter did that every time he saw Draco smoking.
"Fuck that. Were you up there brooding that entire time? I've been looking for you for twenty minutes."
"I just need to be alone for a minute," Potter said. Leaning on the brick wall behind him, he gave Draco an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."
"Oh, really. What for?" Draco questioned, crossing his arms.
"For fucking up your night. Making you worry-"
"Ha! Who said I was worried?"
Potter ignored him. "-For causing a scene. Being an immature prick and ditching you. Take your pick."
Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, suddenly out of steam. "Well, for the record... you didn't fuck up my entire night. Believe it or not, I actually had fun." He quickly grew uncomfortable with the honestly. "But you left out the part where you threw out my last smoke," he informed.
Potter's lips twitch a bit at that. "You forgive me?"
Looking at Potters face, Draco knew that he already had, but he wouldn't let on. "That depends. Mind telling me what happened back there?"
Potter looked away and sighed. Draco waited for an answer, but when one never came, he huffed and walked off without a word. It didn't take long for Potter to catch up with him.
"Draco, stop being such a fucking queen. I am sorry, but it's just really personal. I just- I don't like to talk about it."
Draco tried to look indifferent. "Whatever, Potter. I'm not forcing you to. Let's just go."
"Okay, look," Potter started. Spinning Draco around to face him, he grasped the blonde's shoulders, making him look at him. "How 'bout this? I'll promise to tell you what I can if you stop giving me the cold shoulder," he bargained.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'what you can'?"
Potter let out a frustrated sigh. "It's complicated. There's some things I just can't talk about. Especially not with my friends."
"Well, good. Because we're not friends, Potter. I told you that when I met you," Draco reminded him coldly, shrugging Potter's hands off his shoulders. He was about to continue his way to Potter's motorcycle, but paused when he heard Potter laugh derisively. He was looking up at the dark night sky as if the stars would help him out of this situation, and pulled the blond back by the waist.
"Oh, thats right. You did, didn't you?" Potter sighed again, looking back to Draco with a humorless smile. "Jesus, you are a fucking queen. Fine. I'll tell you. But just... not now, okay?"
Taking in the ravens unsure tone and pleading look, Draco thought about for a moment, then nodded firmly. "Tomorrow, then."
The raven nodded in affirmation after a second and rested his forehead against Draco's, giving him over-exaggerated puppy-dog eyes, complete with a pout. "And you forgive me?"
Draco resisted the urge to smile. "Well, I don't know, Potter. You get forgiveness and I get to hear your sob story? That doesn't sound very fair to me," he smirked.
Green eyes sparkled as Potter smiled that same, charming smile that Draco had become accustomed to over the past several weeks and Draco could've sworn he saw a flash of light at that moment. "I'll make it up to you," Potter promised.
When they got back to dorm room number sixty-six, their roommates were still awake, telling Ron about the show. The second they walked through the door, they were questioned.
"And just where have you two been? Do you have any idea what time it is? Don't you know how to pick up a phone?" Finnigan chided, trying not to laugh as he poked them in the chest with an accusing finger.
Draco checked his watch. "At a bar. Eleven thirty-four. And yes, I do," he smirked, taking off his jacket.
Potter laughed. "Sorry, mom, but the gas station we were robbing didn't have a payphone."
"I'm guessing you two worked out ...whatever it was you needed to work out?" Blaise questioned.
All eyes were on them now. It was obvious to both of them that Blaise had told the rest of their roommates what he knew, which wasn't much.
Potter sighed dramatically and pulled Draco into a one armed hug. "It wasn't easy, getting through all the lies, the misunderstandings, the deceit. I thought our relationship was doomed to failure, but in the end, we decided to stay together, if only for the children- Oof!" Potter ended his speech when Draco decided to elbow him in the gut. Their roommates laughed, taking the violence as a sign that everything was alright again.
Draco fell back on the couch, wondering where he could get a cigarette before he had a nic-fit. Potter came up behind him, draping himself over the sofa, his head resting on the back rest. Draco could feel his breath on his neck as the raven ran his fingers through Draco's hair, but again, Draco had gotten somewhat used to this, so it only made him slightly uncomfortable.
The blond looked up at him and raised an amused eyebrow. "Do you always treat your friends like primates?" Draco asked, not catching his slip until after he said it.
"I thought you said we weren't friends," Potter smirked slyly.
"We aren't."
Potter gave him an amused look. "Well, tell me, Draco, for I am confused," he started grandly. "What does that make us?"
Draco found he didn't have an answer to that. At least not yet.