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"Remind me again why you asked me to do this?"
Draco rolled his eyes. He should've known, when he asked Potter to be his escort to the wedding of a distant cousin, that he was setting himself up for an especially annoying evening. He had no idea what was going through his mind when he approached him – begged him, he reminded himself with a mental shudder – with this favour.
No, Draco thought to himself as he glanced up and saw his father's grimace resting on him and his ‘date’ for the evening. Draco knew exactly what he was doing. Sure, he was going to suffer from having Potter by his side; but it would be peanuts compared to how much Lucius would suffer by seeing his only son marching around the venue with Harry Potter, of all people.
“No one else was available,” Draco lied off-handily. He wasn’t going to explain to Potter how he hand-picked him for the maximum annoyance level achievable. He also had no intention of opening up to him and telling him why it was crucial to get Lucius off his back. Potter wouldn’t understand, anyway. He didn’t grow up as a pureblood. He didn’t grow up with the notion that it was his duty to continue his family’s bloodline, an especially heavy burden as an only child. He wouldn’t understand the pressure of being expected to follow the rules, nor the importance of family honour. The rules that stated that aristocratic pureblood wixes were expected to marry other aristocratic pureblood wixes even if they did not like them, not even remotely. Even if they were related. Or, worse; of the wrong gender.
“You could’ve just gone alone.”
“No, Potter. I couldn’t.” Apart from being expected to have at least an escort, especially at his beyond-than-marriageable age, he was also aware that had he gone alone, single distant female cousins would be offered to him. Going alone was not an option. “I said I owed you one, alright? How about we just leave it at that?”
“I’m here ain’t I? I was just curious – “
“Keep your curiosity to yourself. Oh, hello Auntie Lyra,” Draco replaced his annoyed frown with a charming smile as he spotted one of his mother’s cousins. “Have you met my boyfriend, Harry Potter?”
“Draco dear! No, I haven’t, actually,” her smile faltered as she glanced at Potter, but only briefly. “So good to see you,” she smiled at him. “Both of you.”
He watched his Aunt Lyra as she proceeded to give Potter the look through; head to toes and back again. He saw her eyes lingering for a few seconds on his forehead. It’s been a decade since the War had ended and the Dark Lord was officially defeated (again, and, hopefully, indefinitely this time), but people still thought that there was something special about Potter because of the scar. Idiots.
“Boyfriend, did you say?” She looked a bit taken aback. Draco wondered if it was because he was the first Malfoy to be openly gay (not that anyone in his father’s family actually accepted it), or if his father had done something stupid again. “But Lucius had mentioned, just moments ago, that you were actually engaged to marry – “
“Harry,” Draco cut sweetly into her words before she could say a name. He had a feeling that his father might have had something sinister in store for him, especially after the way he looked at the two of them when Draco first introduced Potter to him as his date. He offered a sweet smile. “Yes, that’s correct.” To prove his point, Draco searched for Potter’s hand, grabbed it, then pulled him closer. He heard Potter gasp. He knew that this wasn’t exactly what they agreed on. But if his father was walking around claiming he was engaged, then Draco had to pretend it was true. Partially, anyway; he assumed that his father was claiming his fiancé was Astoria, rather than Potter. He’d been trying to convince Draco to let go of his wrongful ways and kept pushing her in his path. Draco was certain that Lucius had intended to do the same this evening, too. He was already used to that. But to go around and tell their extended family that he was about to get married… Desperate times require desperate measures, and it seemed that Lucius was desperate. Too bad that Draco was, too. “We were trying to keep that a secret for now, but if my father talks about it then I suppose there’s no need for us to hide anymore.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was still a secret.” She looked more sorry that Lucius’ information was inaccurate. Astoria was her niece, and despite being stripped of a lot of their properties after the War, the Malfoy name still had its charm in the right circles. The Blacks were a part of those circles. “Congratulations,” she said.
Draco ignored how fake it sounded. She didn’t even put any effort into sounding genuine. “Thank you, Auntie Lyra. Now, if you’d excuse us, I think I see Uncle Cepheus there, and I have yet to greet him.”
“Of course, Draco, of course. It was great seeing you, and I’m very happy about the exciting news,” she almost turned, but then seemed to remember that Potter was there too. She offered her hand to him, and he took it, shaking it awkwardly. “Harry Potter. It was great meeting you, too. When should I expect your invitation?”
Draco could feel Harry tensing next to him, but he pretended he didn’t notice it as he calmly replied. “We haven’t settled on a date yet, but please rest assured that we will send you an owl once we do. I know how busy your schedule is.”
She let go of Potter’s hand and took a step back. “Oh, that is so kind of you,” she said. She then walked away, starting a conversation with someone else.
Draco was not surprised that Potter took his hand back as soon as Lyra turned her back on them. He tried not to be offended by him wiping it over his dress robe as if Draco’s hand was covered in something vile.
“What was that all about, Malfoy? I said I’d escort you, not that I’d pretend to be your fiancé!”
“I know, I apologize.” Gone was his previous sweetness, replaced by sarcastic, dismissive chill. “Apparently my father decided that I’m going to get married. I had to make sure no one gets the wrong idea.”
“Oh, so in your twisted mind, marrying me is the right idea?”
“No.” The mere thought was repulsive. “But it’s better than – never mind. Just play along, alright?”
He saw the confused look on Potter’s face. Could almost see him refusing, breaking their deal and apparating away. It wasn’t like Potter owed him anything; Draco only offered to take over his paperwork at the office for the next month. He knew that this wasn’t really the make-or-break part of this little favour. He was mostly counting on his hero complex and his need to save everyone.
Strangely enough, however, Potter stayed, albeit grumpily. They were approached by other wedding guests, more frequently from that point on. Apparently, the news of Lucius Malfoy’s son’s expected marriage to none other than The Chosen One was hot gossip and it travelled in the room faster than the Knight Bus on a busy night. Draco could tell that Potter wasn’t pleased, but Draco was relieved to see that his assumption that Potter wouldn’t be able to resist his need to help everyone seemed to be accurate.
With each new person coming over to ask about their engagement, the story of their engagement evolved a little bit more. A new detail about the proposal here, a note about their wedding plans there. Potter seemed to be growing more uncomfortable by the minute, but Draco couldn’t resist. After all, it was highly likely that this would be the only wedding he’d get to plan.
“Oh, no, it’s going to be a small ceremony. Possibly in France, maybe by the beach, or at one of the vineyards, we haven’t finalized the details yet - “
“Is that correct, Draco?”
His father’s scornful voice made Draco stop in the middle of the addition of the newest detail. He stopped talking and turned to look at him instead; he was vaguely aware that his previous conversation partner had started walking away.
“You are now spreading a rumour that you will marry Potter? Pretending to date him to spite me wasn’t bad enough? You had to go and thoroughly humiliate me, as well?”
Draco felt his heartbeat increase as rage swelled inside his chest. He was pretending, yes; but Lucius was supposed to think it was real. The notion that Lucius was apparently humiliated by the fact that Draco was dating someone he hadn't been set up with - and a wizard, at that - stung him like a Sectumsempra. A disgrace to the Malfoy name.
Not that Draco didn’t know it was true; but to hear his father say it out loud in a public setting gave it a whole new weight he wasn’t expecting.
He suddenly understood how stupid and naive he’d been to think that pretending to date Potter would get Lucius to back off. That maybe Lucius would even understand him and accept him for who he was. That was never going to happen.
Draco felt a lump forming at the base of his throat. He wanted to turn and walk away; to punch his father in the face. He wasn’t sure which one he wanted to do more. But he knew he lacked the courage to do either.
“I’m so sorry that my existence humiliates you, father,” he said bitterly instead. His voice was cold, shaking with self restraint, frustration, fury. He hoped that Lucius wouldn’t think that he was about to cry or anything pathetic like that. He learned his lesson back when he was 16 – his body still carried the scars – and hadn’t cried since. Not even at his mother’s funeral.
He could see Potter looking between him and his father. Was he going to bolt now that their cover was officially blown? Draco hoped not. Facing his father on his own after having pretended to be engaged to Potter was bound to be much worse than facing him when trying to tell him he had no intention of marrying Astoria without any additional weight to it. Or any other witch, for that matter. He hated to admit that, but Potter’s presence next to him helped him hold his ground.
“Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think that anyone here is trying to, uh, humiliate anyone.”
Draco looked sideways sharply. Potter looked, still, very uncomfortable; but there was something different about him now. It wasn’t the same embarrassment and general look of wishing-he-could-apparate-away that had been hiding under his mask of politeness all evening. It looked more like – was he feeling sorry for Draco?
That was even worse.
“And, uh, I think you could call me Harry, considering the circumstances. Draco and I are dating, after all.” Potter’s hand left Draco’s, making him look at him in confusion. It changed into surprise when instead, it was inching around his waist.
What was Potter doing? Draco was tempted to shake him off; to call off the agreement and deal with the consequences.
“And we make each other very happy.”
Lucius narrowed his eyes, his pupils moving between Potter and Draco, as if he was examining every nuance of their appearance. “Do you, now?”
While Draco felt his end approaching, Potter seemed to be gaining confidence and resolve. He felt his fingers pulling him closer until their hips pressed against each other, and swallowed, fighting to stay in place. “I know Draco makes me very happy. Considering he proposed to me, I can only assume I make him happy too. Isn’t that right, honey?”
Draco felt his face heat up. He may have asked Potter to come here with him and had gone and told everyone that they were engaged; but no one had ever called Draco by a term of endearment. Not even his own mother.
It felt… nice.
Draco’s side stung as Potter pinched him. He shook himself back to the present. If Potter had the guts to stand up to Lucius, then so could Draco.
…Right?
“Yes, father. He makes me happy. I wish you would give us your blessing.”
How on Earth were they going to get out of this mess afterwards?
“My blessing.” Lucius grimaced. “I’ll consider giving you my blessing when I have proof that this is real.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Draco didn’t know what to make of Potter’s tone, but there was definitely something sinister about it. He didn’t get to speculate about it for long, though, because it was only a brief second before Potter’s hand went from resting on his waist to gripping him hard and pulling him closer. He had no time to protest – no time to even think about protesting – before Potter’s other hand was placed on his other side, making Draco face him. Draco only had the chance to catch a glimpse of the sparkle in Potter’s emerald eyes before they closed and his mouth was captured by Potter’s.
Draco gasped at the feeling of soft lips against his own and the wet warmth of Potter’s mouth. This was not a part of the agreement, very much not. He was confused. Potter had absolutely no reason to do anything more than pretend they were dating, and he’d made it rather clear that he wasn’t happy about playing along with anything Draco added to the basic agreement. What had changed?
Draco glanced sideways and saw his father’s horrified look. He looked like he was a second away from trying to tear Potter away from him, or disowning Draco. Or both. Seeing that something as simple as a kiss could induce such a reaction from his father ignited a fire in Draco. He moved his eyes back to look at Harry, now noticing the little frown on his forehead. The shock of being kissed by Harry Potter wore off a little, enabling Draco to notice the nuances in his hold.
Did Potter hate Lucius enough to hold a grudge against him more than Draco did? Was that the reason behind this sudden change? Draco wasn’t sure; but whatever Potter’s motivation was, it was working in Draco’s favour.
Deciding to take the most out of the situation, Draco moved his own arms, placing one hand on the small of Potter’s back and raising his other to wrap around his nape. He felt Potter moving under his touch; a slight change of footing, a miniscule alteration of the angle of his face as he adjusted to Draco.
“Oh, please!” Draco heard his father scoff.
He moved his hand, intending to take it off of Potter’s head, to break the kiss. He would apparate away from the venue, from his father, maybe even from the wizarding world altogether; but the feeling of Potter’s lips parting rooted him to his place. Something strong and wet pressed against his mouth, and Draco parted his own lips, reacting automatically to the request.
A moan escaped his lips as he got a first taste of Potter’s mouth. Smoked whiskey and sweetened cocoa filled his consciousness, along with another flavour that he couldn’t quite pin-point. He closed his eyes, barely even noticing he did so, and kissed Harry back. The world surrounding them disappeared as he felt himself drowning in Harry. He didn’t care about his father anymore, about the rumours he was spreading about possible future marriage, about family honour and whatnot. He cared only about keeping Harry there, tasting him for just a few seconds longer, holding onto him as if he encompassed everything Draco wanted: acceptance.
But fantasies were not meant to last forever and soon – too soon – it ended. Harry – Potter, he reminded himself as his brain started focusing again – moved away.
Draco opened his eyes at the loss of Potter’s lips and was met by a sea of green again; but the lines of worry that adorned his forehead were gone, replaced with small lines at the corners of his eyes - the hint of a smile. Draco couldn’t help himself and found himself mirroring the smile, letting out a single, breathless chuckle.
They remained close for a short moment, Potter’s breaths fluttering over Draco’s lips. Draco knew it was short, because the song playing hadn't changed yet, and his father was still glaring at them with the same grimace. But time acted strangely around Potter; it was true back in school and it was even truer now when he could smell the air Potter breathed, when his fingers were still curved on his waist, when Draco’s hand was caught in the dark curls of Potter’s head, when their foreheads were touching, almost leaning on each other for support. When he could still taste him on his lips, in his mouth, on his tongue. When he was still a little dizzy from kissing him.
But eventually Potter’s head moved, and the green eyes tore away from Draco’s, turning instead to look at Lucius. Draco was thankful that he didn’t step away, didn’t take his hands back.
He wasn’t sure he was able to hold himself just yet.
Why was this kiss affecting him so much? It was just a kiss. Draco’ d been kissed before. By better kissers.
And this was Potter who had kissed him. He was supposed to be disgusted by it, not -
“Real enough for you, Mr. Malfoy?”
Draco’s jaw almost dropped; but at the same time, he felt the need to kiss Potter again, just as a reward for talking to his father in a way that Draco never had the courage to. The notion that Potter probably wouldn’t accept such an act as a reward crossed his mind, stinging like a cutting curse.
“We’re in love. And I think it’s better that you get used to the idea, and stop trying to set my fiancé up with witches. Wouldn’t that be nice, love?”
Again with the pet names. But it bothered Draco much less this time; as if the initial shock of being referred to as anything other than ‘Malfoy’ or ‘git’ by Potter had worn off and left room for the possibility of them having a different kind of relationship.
Potter was looking at him again, and when Draco took too long to answer, he pinched him lightly. Draco snapped out of that line of thought, remembering that it was all a show. Potter would never consider having a relationship with him. What was he thinking? Being Potter’s boyfriend?
They hated each other.
Why did this thought make him feel like someone was trying to crucio him?
Draco forced himself to smile. “Yes. Harry is a bit of a jealous type,” he said. He saw Potter’s eyebrow arching up, but he didn’t say anything to contradict him. So he kept going, unable to hold himself back, now that he’d started. “You cannot imagine the fights this causes. I know he wouldn’t leave me because of something like that, would you, darling?”
Potter blinked at the term of endearment. Well, if Potter was allowed to, then Draco should be, too; and Potter should live with that in peace. He nodded. Why did his surprised face induce such warmth in Draco’s stomach?
“But I can tell it hurts him to hear about the different dates you try to set up for me. So please, father, stop. I’m perfectly happy where I am now, by Harry’s side.”
Lucius’s eyes narrowed even farther, but then, for whatever reason, he straightened up and instead looked at the two of them arrogantly. “If that is what you really want Draco, I won’t stop you.”
Draco blinked. That was not what he expected; though he wasn’t sure what exactly he expected his father to do. A small bud of hope formed inside him; was his father finally coming around? It seemed too good to be true. Almost like a fairy-tale coming to life.
“But I won’t support this.”
BAM! The bubble burst. Draco was angry at himself for allowing any kind of hope to form in him. Lucius gestured at them dismissively. The implication was clear. I won’t support you translated to you can forget about your inheritance. It translated to I will no longer consider you my son. The loathing in Lucius’ eyes told him the same story. It hurt more than he thought it would, after everything Lucius had put him through. He ruined his life; in more than one way. He didn’t deserve Draco’s care and respect.
But he was still Draco’s father, despite all of his flaws. Knowing he would throw away their relationship just because Draco chose to be in a different kind of relationship than what he deemed appropriate still hurt.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
This wasn’t exactly how Draco thought this night would end; he didn’t think that pissing his father off would result in something as extreme as being disowned.
But good to know where I stand, he thought bitterly to himself.
“Of course I do,” he replied. His voice was surprisingly steady considering the whirlwind that was raging inside him.
Lucius gave them one last glare, and then, with a whoosh of his dark dress robes, turned and walked away.
Draco wasn’t sure how he felt when he watched his father disappearing between the sea of lavish dress robes and floating party trays. A mixture of fear from the significance of the step he’d just made, and the elevating feeling of freedom that he’d finally made that one step, finally freed himself from the chains that held him from doing what he wanted to do, being who he wanted to be.
“Malfoy, are you okay?”
Potter’s voice cut through the frenzy of Draco’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Around them the party went on just as it did before this encounter with Lucius. It seemed that everyone was too busy to notice his drama. They were drifting around the room, talking, drinking, eating. Unaware of the major life change he’d just gone through, unaware that the world, the way he knew it his entire life, had just shattered. It felt surreal that something that was this significant to him could go so unnoticed by everyone else.
Draco looked at Potter, saw his eyes looking at him worriedly behind his glasses. Those ugly glasses he hadn’t changed – or at least, hadn’t changed the design of – since school. And they were ugly back then, too. But something was different now. Perhaps it was the kiss, and all the feelings it generated in him. Perhaps it was the role he’d played in setting Draco free from his father and his outdated views.
Or perhaps it was Draco’s own freedom that allowed him to see Potter for who he really was for the first time in his life. Just another young man, who’d been through more in his short life than all the people Draco knew combined, and still made the time to assist an old classmate he didn’t even like. A kind man who never judged him but for the way he acted, that saved him despite the way he acted, more than once.
“Yes, I think I am,” Draco replied. Potter’s hands left him, and he took half a step back, creating a little bit of distance between them. Draco’s waist felt cold where Potter’s hands used to be. Missing. “I’m…” he paused, letting a short, uncertain laugh. Finding it hard to put his emotions and thoughts in order. “Thank you,” he managed. “You didn’t have to do it.”
For a second Harry just looked at him, then he arched an eyebrow. “Do what?”
Draco gestured in the air. “This. What you’ve just done. My family drama was not your problem to handle, but you stood up for me. I…” he moved slightly on the spot, glancing around the room. There was a general drift towards one side of the venue. They were probably starting to serve the actual food, rather than the inedible snacks that were floating about during reception. Draco didn’t care. He didn’t feel hungry. He felt like if he even tried to eat something, he wouldn’t be able to keep it down. “I wouldn’t have had the courage to say those things to him without your help. And you didn’t have to do all that. I know he’s a little scary – “
“Your father? Scary?” Harry cut into Draco’s words. For a second Draco stared at him. He could see the change of lines in his face, could tell he was holding back; but it was only for a short moment, because then he burst out laughing.
Draco wasn’t sure how to react to that. He knew he should probably be offended, but he wasn’t. He’d lived his entire life being terrified of Lucius. He hadn’t realized that until becoming an adult and having at least some freedom, especially during the short time Lucius spent in Azkaban. No one had ever pointed it out to him. Most of his friends were always looking at the relationships in Draco’s family and assuming Draco could get away with anything, that his parents gave in to his every whim. But they only saw what Lucius wanted them to see. They didn’t see how buying Draco material possessions worked to further manipulate him. They didn’t see the subtle threats; the way Lucius was determined to control Draco. The way Lucius used him for his own advantage to the point where he was willing to sacrifice Draco’s life just to get back on the Dark Lord’s good side.
But all of that was over.
It started out small; a short chuckle at the ridiculousness of how – easy – it was to break free. But that one chuckle rolled and turned into a whole-hearted laugh that rumbled through his chest, almost aching. The kind Draco rarely allowed himself; especially in public, not even when his only witness was Pansy, the only person who still remained his friend.
He could hear Potter’s laughter intensifying, as if hearing Draco laughing as well somehow encouraged him. As if they were stuck in some kind of a loop, Draco’s laugh grew wilder, louder, too. His eyes closed and he could feel wetness at their corners. He placed his hand on his stomach, feeling like he might fall and roll on the floor if he didn’t support himself somehow.
He was vaguely aware of the witches and wizards who were staring at them. They probably thought they’d gone mad. Had the news of Lucius disowning him already spread around? Or did they just think they’d drunk a few too many shots of firewhiskey? It should’ve bothered him; but much to his astonishment, he didn’t care. He’d spent his entire life caring what other people thought of him. He was tired of it. As if Lucius telling him he wasn’t going to support anymore him set him free not only from his constant control, but from the rules that dictated his life.
They laughed together for a while; long enough for people to just move on to gossip about them somewhere else. Long enough for Draco to be gasping for air, to no longer care that his eyes were tearing.
Eventually it died out. The reception hall was empty by then, everyone having moved on. Draco and Harry both found themselves trying to get enough air to calm their breathing, but eventually Draco felt it was safe enough for him to straighten up. Next to him, Harry did the same. He reached over to one of the floating trays and grabbed a few napkins, handing one to Draco and using the other one himself. Draco accepted it.
He took a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh, and for a moment he and Harry stood in the empty hall. It wasn’t awkward, or tense, as he would’ve expected it would be; it was a comfortable kind of silence, of them taking in all that had happened that evening.
It gave Draco time to process, and he realized that Harry was still there next to him, and they’d just both made complete fools of themselves. After having kissed.
As if that thought cast a priori incantatem, caused a cell memory of some sort, Draco brought his hand up to his mouth, moved his fingers over his lower lip, thoughtful. He could no longer taste Harry; but the memory of how his lips felt pressed against his remained, sharp as if they’d only just parted.
He frowned, thoughtful, then looked at Harry. “You kissed me.”
Harry blinked, then stared at him as if he’d said something completely ridiculous. “Yes, I know.”
Right. But Draco’s head was elsewhere at that time. Too busy thinking about what had to be the biggest change in his life so far. “Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’ ?” Harry placed his used napkin back on the floating tray, which responded to the offense by zooming away. Aristocratic serving plates did not appreciate doubling as trash bins; there were other trays for that. “Because your father was being a git. Our cover was about to be blown. I had - you’re not mad, are you?”
Now it was Draco’s turn to question Harry’s sanity. “Mad? No… I mean, I was surprised, but...“
“Well, your father is a piece of work. It sounded like a bit of a threat there. What does he intend to do, force you to ‘break up’ with me?”
Another tray - this time a trash tray - floated in their direction; possibly summoned by the offended serving tray. Draco used the opportunity and placed his own wet napkin on it. He let out a short, bitter chuckle as it slowly floated away. “No. He disowned me.”
“What?!”
Draco was surprised at how indifferent it made him feel, now that the initial shock had been processed. “I won’t support you,” he quoted.
“But that hardly means that - “
“I know my father. That’s exactly what it means. I’ll be expecting an owl to bring me forms to sign tomorrow that I forfeit any claim I might have for the family’s fortune. Hell, maybe he’d force me to change my last name.”
“Shit, Malfoy that’s not funny - I’m so sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t know that he’d do that. Can I - fix this - somehow?”
Draco stared at Harry. “Fix what? That my father is a bigoted, homophobic asshole?” It was refreshing to be able to say it out loud. Liberating. “It’s hardly your fault.”
“No, I mean, I wish I could fix that but I meant… I didn’t mean to get you kicked out of your own family.”
Oh. Trust Potter and his hero complex. “It would’ve happened anyway sooner or later,” he said, trying to make his voice sound indifferent. The truth of it hurt. “I should be thanking you for sparing me Merlin knows how many more years of him pretending I’m who he wants me to be instead of accepting who I am.”
A moment of awkward silence. “I’m still sorry. It sucks that you have to go through this.”
Draco shrugged. “We each get dealt our cards. You didn’t even get to know your parents.”
For a second Harry just stared at him, making Draco think he was going to hex him, or, at the very least, hit him; but then he smiled softly, and shrugged. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. We should probably, uh…”
“Get the hell out of this boring wedding?”
Harry’s smile broadened at Draco’s suggestion. “Yeah.”
Draco took out his wand, ready to apparate away; but then he lowered it and looked at Harry. “Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked. He wasn’t even sure why. He knew he didn’t feel like being alone right now, too scared of letting his mind go over tonight’s events so soon; and he didn’t feel like spending the rest of the evening with Pansy.
No, he corrected himself. That was just an excuse. It wasn’t about not wanting to be alone; it was about him wanting to be with Harry.
“You mean, together? You and I?”
The surprise in his voice reminded Draco of who they really were to each other. Co-workers who used to hate each other and grew to tolerate each other, at best. What they did today – it was only a show. Harry didn’t owe him anything. The kiss meant nothing; just a way to make Lucius back off.
Why did it hurt so much?
“I get that you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I’ll just – “
“I never said I didn’t want to.” Harry’s green eyes looked at him. A floating candle passed over them, its light catching on Harry’s glasses, making it look like his eyes were aflame. “I don’t know what you had in mind, but this feels like a hard liquor sort of evening, doesn’t it?” He held his hand out to Draco. “I know just the place.”
Confused, still in disbelief that Harry agreed with him, appreciative of the gesture and of the suggestion (Merlin, he could use a drink. Or ten), Draco took the offered hand, and let Harry lead the way.