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Summary
He sighed from deep in his chest, an exhale which had more noise behind it than he’d intended.
Around the table, the conversation paused. It took Theo a moment for his brain to parse the sudden silence and he glanced up, feel bleary and twice-drunk. How was it that Draco was more intoxicating than liquor?
“Something to add, Theodore?” Pansy asked, tone curling though pointed. “You seem quite riveted.”
He found her eyes across the table, momentarily mystified. She raised her brows, then flicked her gaze lightning-quick toward Draco then back.
“Nah,” he said, refusing to look at Draco. “Sorry, what’re you lot talking about? I was thinking about something else.”
“I bet you were,” said Pansy sweetly.
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Or the five times Theo almost kisses Draco, and the one time he succeeds.