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This is not how Draco wanted to spend his evening. A bunch of drunk people who don’t want anything to do with Draco, (not that he can blame them, he wouldn’t want anything to do with him either) drinking even more and playing juvenile games. Fantastic. Sometimes he wonders why he is friends with Pansy at all, because this is definitely her fault. If she had just left him alone to study like he planned to, he wouldn’t have to moon pathetically over Potter. Merlin knows Draco has done enough of that to last the rest of his life.
But no, here Draco is, watching Potter laugh like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Draco can admit that it’s a mesmerising sight, his favourite sound. Potter hasn’t laughed a lot lately, not nearly enough if Draco had any say in it, what with the war still haunting them all and his Weasley too busy snogging Granger to save Potter from himself. It’s a crime, a tragedy, but no one seems to even notice. That’s how they take care of their celebrated hero.
Right now, the usual shadows under Potter’s eyes aren’t as prominent, his presence not restricted to his actual physical body but evident in the glint in his eyes, the way he engages with the world again and he doesn’t seem to mind being the centre of attention. Though that might be aided by the alcohol, now that Draco thinks about it. Potter has kept to himself lately, flinching away from any kind of contact with anyone not Weasley or Granger. It’s worrisome to say the least, Potter always used to flourish under the eyes of his loved ones. And yet here he is, stumbling around half dead and cowering behind others. Draco doesn’t like it.
It was made abundantly clear, however, that he better stay away from Potter, not that Potter even seems aware of his existence anymore. Which hurts more than expected and didn’t get better when Pansy forced him to talk about it. All it did was make it impossible for Draco to deny that he cares for Potter, and that he is concerned. Granger is one scary witch though, and while she certainly didn’t need Weasley to stand behind her and glower at him when she threatened him, he really did cut an imposing figure.
Thus warned, Draco doesn’t dare approach Potter again, no matter that all he wanted was to talk to the twat. With their history though, and Draco’s rather impressively bad decision-making these last years, he should have expected that. And it’s not like Potter needs him, of all people.
Doesn’t mean Draco can’t discreetly watch him though. It’s seriously not pining most of the time, despite what Pansy says, he honestly has been worried that Potter will fall asleep in class or walk straight into a wall. He shouldn’t be left alone, and while Draco is well aware it isn’t his job to make sure he is alright; he can’t ignore him either. And there was never a healthy middle ground for him, not where Potter is concerned.
But today Potter is bright eyed and in good spirits. So yes Pansy, today Draco is pining.
Half of it isn’t his fault though, he blames it on the fact that Potter sits right in front of him, giving Draco practically nothing else to look at. Draco doesn’t remember whose insipid idea it was to play spin the bottle, neither does he know why everyone agreed so enthusiastically or why he is still here.
Well, no, the last one is pretty clear — for Potter. He could have watched safely from outside the circle and evaded the whole kissing debacle. Only that it was, of course, Potter who asked him, and Draco was too stunned to say no. This entire debacle is actually Potter’s fault; Potter and his stupid smile.
The single advantage to everyone here being drunk is no one noticing that Draco doesn’t participate in the game. He subtly nudges the bottle along when it happens to land on him and is always terribly busy when it’s technically his turn. These morons either haven’t caught on or don’t care, but as long as Draco doesn’t have to come close to anyone’s lips, either is fine with him.
From what he has seen so far, he doesn’t understand how he is the only one avoiding being kissed. It looks either disgustingly … involved, full of spit and tongue, or disappointingly bland, a quick peck that holds neither intimacy nor personality. Draco is downright appalled by the former and doesn’t see the appeal the in the latter. In conclusion, he doesn’t want to try either, doesn’t even want to watch it. Which really only leaves Potter to focus on.
Yet, for all his watching and observing, Draco sits completely frozen in shock when Potter is suddenly mere inches from his face, stupid bottle pointing at him.
Potter is even more beautiful up close, eyes even greener, hair even smoother and that annoyingly charming crooked smile of his. Draco wouldn’t mind having Potter this close more often, would quite like it, in fact. If only Potter wouldn’t stink of Firewhiskey and there wasn’t an equally drunk audience cheering them on.
Draco is still caught up in admiring Potter’s handsome face with most of his brain and figuring out which of the annoying parts of this irk him more, when Potter moves closer with aggressive speed. Draco has a shocking vision of Potter kissing him, shoving his tongue down his throat and pushing his spit into his mouth.
Without thinking, Draco pushes Potter back and jerks away, brings as much space as possible between them.
Whatever Potter was actually about to do, whether it would have been as horrifying as in his vision or not, Draco doesn’t want to find out. He might have been in love with Potter for his whole life, might have pined after him and dreamt of a future together, but kisses don’t have a space there. Which makes any sort of future impossible of course, because even if Potter felt the same for Draco, who would ever agree to that?
But if Draco can’t have the dream, he doesn’t want the nightmare either.
Potter doesn’t seem to agree with that, looking up at Draco from where he has fallen onto the ground with his stupid green eyes wide and hurt. As if he is the one who almost got molested. Not only did he taint Draco’s evening of peaceful yearning, but now he has the audacity to look like he is the wronged party here, to make Draco feel bad for him.
It has fallen silent in the room, everyone finally shutting up and looking between them, waiting for what happens next. It’s only a matter of time though before one of them wakes up, before they bring a stupid joke or call him a prude, laugh at him or accuse him of hurting their precious Potter. And Draco doesn’t need that. He can’t deal with that on top of the expression on Potter’s face and his own racing thoughts. He has to get out of here; and fast at that.
Mumbling an apology Draco gets up, hyper aware of every pair of eyes trained on him, concentrating on not appearing like he is fleeing the room even though that is exactly what he is doing.
Avoiding Potter is not as easy as Draco would have thought. He is everywhere, actually sitting upright again and searching the room, piercing eyes landing on Draco every time.
Draco also never would have thought that he could ever want to avoid Potter’s attention. Potter’s attention used to be something he treasured, something he would do the most ridiculous things for as long as Potter looked at him and told him they are utterly ridiculous, anything to get Potter to talk to him. It became even more precious after the war, when Potter didn’t pay attention to anything. And now Draco finally has it; fully focused on him, all the time, burning holes in the back of his head.
It’s just like in Sixth year, when the last thing Draco needed was Potter’s constant scrutiny, despite longing for it all the years before. Potter only ever seems interested when Draco screwed up, when there is something to see that proves Draco isn’t worth his notice.
This time Potter isn’t only creepily following him but actively trying to corner him, presumably to talk to him. Which won’t end well. Potter clearly didn’t like it when Draco refused to kiss him and can’t let it go. Of course, he would have something to say about it, why did Draco think Potter could just do the gracious thing and pretend it didn’t happen? That would have been far preferable, because whatever Potter has to say, it can’t be pleasant.
So, Draco has done his best to avoid Potter, has ducked out of lessons early and on more than one occasion used Pansy as a human shield, which she never enjoys and is increasingly cross about.
Pansy doesn’t understand, why Draco didn’t let himself be kissed or why he is avoiding Potter now or what Draco wants Potter to do since it’s neither to ignore him, nor pay attention to him. Draco doesn’t know either, really, he just wants for this evening to never have happened.
But as it is so often when it comes to Potter, Draco doesn’t get what he wants.
“Malfoy!”
Draco curses under his breath as he picks up his pace. It’s a mystery to him how Potter always seems to know exactly where to find him, not only bothering him after class but appearing out of nowhere when he lasts expects it. And only when he is alone. How ever the prick knows that as well. But Pansy refused to come with him to the library, reciting a poorly thought out lie Draco only accepted because he needs to do research and knows from experience that questioning her later will be more fruitful.
He regrets that decision now. Of course, Potter wouldn’t let such a prime opportunity pass. Draco has had enough of this, of letting Potter chase him around and trying to avert the inevitable. He can’t even go to the library without Potter lurking around!
“Yes, Potter, what do you want?”
Potter either doesn’t catch Draco’s annoyed tone or doesn’t understand that the polite thing to do would be to drop it. On second thoughts, Potter isn’t stupid. Most likely, he is fully aware of what he is doing and simply doesn’t care. He never was very concerned with social expectations. Arrogant prick.
“Not to talk to your back, for one.”
And that is very much Potter as he was before the war, always a clever answer ready. Despite his current annoyance with him, Draco is glad to hear it. That does not, however, mean that Draco will turn around. He can hear Potter just fine, and if he doesn’t like it, he can be the one to move.
If the heavy sigh is anything to go by, Potter has realised Draco isn’t going to do the work for him. Draco is also pretty sure he is grumbling something about maturity and pouting prats, and then Potter is far too close again, physically blocking his way as if scared Draco will run off again.
“Look, I just wanted to apologise, for you know — what happened, that evening.”
Luckily for Potter, Draco is too distracted trying to understand what he said to tease him about his stammering. Because surely, he didn’t say he came to apologise, did he?
“I had too much to drink and I didn’t think clear anymore, I should have realised it wasn’t okay. But I have been wanting to kiss you since forever and the way you have been looking at me lately — but it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable.”
Draco is too bewildered to say anything. That was the last thing he expected Potter to say, so absurd he didn’t even consider it a possibility.
Then the rest of what Potter said catches up with him. Potter saw him staring. Granted, Draco hadn’t been subtle, but he didn’t think Potter would notice, too wrapped up in whatever was going on his mind. Apparently, he had noticed though, and came to all the right conclusions. Well, almost all the right conclusions.
It takes another moment for Draco to realise what Potter implied, that he wants all the same things Draco wants, that he has been watching him too.
Draco is still stuck on that realisation when Potter moves away, his eyes that were so open and hopeful just a moment ago now cast down, mumbling another apology. Draco has been silent for too long, and now he scared Potter away. Well done, Malfoy.
“Potter, wait!” He didn’t think beyond stopping Potter, of what to do with his eyes on him like his entire future depends on what Draco says next. Draco doesn’t know what he is going to say next, didn’t know it when he stopped him and knows it even less now. What could he say? That he wants Potter for himself but won’t kiss him probably ever? That is going to go over well, Potter is sure to love that.
Now that he thinks about it, Potter didn’t say he wanted to date Draco. He said he wanted to kiss him. Which is not the same thing at all.
Potter could want nothing more than that, could want to do everything that makes Draco nauseous at the thought alone and never even consider that there might be anything else. He could only want a little fun, something to do in between classes and end things after Hogwarts to marry the Weasley girl and be the respectable Saviour the world dreams of.
That doesn’t sound like something Potter would do though.
But then, what does Draco know? He has only ever seen Potter busy fighting for his life and even then, never really knew him. This might be exactly the kind of thing Potter does. Draco needs to know. Even if the answer might break his heart.
“When you said you wanted to — I mean, do you only want — what exactly are your intentions towards me?” It sounds terribly formal and more like something his father would ask, but it’s the best Draco can do. He supposes it serves its purpose well enough without being crude.
Potter apparently doesn’t agree, snorting as if Draco asked something completely ridiculous and not voiced a reasonable concern. “What? My intentions?”
“Don’t play dumb, Potter, you know what I mean! If you plan to use me, to have a little fun and discard me when you get bored or to marry someone —”
Potter cuts him off, looking highly offended and not amused anymore. Good, this is important. “Merlin Malfoy, where is this coming from? What the hell do you think of me?”
“Well, what am I supposed to think, Potter? You ignore me all year and then I deny you that kiss and suddenly you stalk me!”
Potter looks gobsmacked, staring at Draco in disbelief before visibly gathering himself, taking a deep breath. Draco is rather impressed with the display, grudgingly so but impressed nonetheless. Someone worked on his temper.
“Alright, let’s start again because we went somewhere completely in the wrong direction here. I like you; Merlin knows why but I do —”
“If that is your bumbling attempt to coax me —” Draco doesn’t know where this indignant rant is going but Potter rudely interrupts him, almost dismissive in how sure he is that Draco will listen to him.
“Shut up Malfoy, it’s my turn now. As I was saying,” pointed pause and glaring, “I like you, and I would like to get to know you better. I have also been informed that I have been pathetically pining for long enough, and if I don’t ask you out soon, Ron will do it for me. So please, Malfoy, go out with me and save me the embarrassment?”
Draco would actually love to see what Weasley can come up with, but there is no way he can say no to that. Potter is offering all Draco wanted, the future he dreamed of — it’s not even really a question if he’ll say yes.
Although, there is one tiny thing Potter didn’t mention at all.
“I’m not going to kiss you.”
Potter frowns at him and despite the fact the Draco expected that, his heart falls. What if Potter decides Draco isn’t worth it then? How cruel, to almost but not quite have what he wanted, to be snatched out of his grasp because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and agree.
“Why?” Potter looks adorably confused, forehead wrinkled and the crooked smile from a moment ago now gone.
“Because it’s gross and I don’t want to, none of all that. So, you either accept that or you can leave.” Draco is certain Potter will leave. It’s a miracle he stayed this long!
But Potter doesn’t leave, he just stands there and looks at Draco in consideration. “But you do want to go on a date with me?”
Draco doesn’t bother suppressing the exasperated sigh, Potter is being slow, and he ought to know it. “Last I checked kissing isn’t a requirement for a date.”
Potter still seems confused, the frown less pronounced now but still present, but he is also grinning at Draco. “Alright then, I don’t think I totally understand what you want but you can tell me on our date.”
As long as Potter keeps smiling at him like that, Draco doesn’t think he minds answering a dozen inane questions. He agrees before he even realises it.