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“Fuck you, Draco! You know why.”
No, Draco didn’t. Because it couldn’t be.
They stared at each other for a long moment, until Potter’s expression turned from livid to something more complex.
“How long have you been engaged?”
“That’s—” —none of your business, he wanted to say. He didn’t want to talk about this. Least of all with Potter. But he was tired of fighting. He couldn’t tell Potter the whole truth, but maybe he’d stop pestering him if he at least told him something. “We got engaged last summer,” he finally said.
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Astoria,” Draco said, unwilling to give more information. The look on Potter’s face made his stomach twist uncomfortably.
“Do you love her?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Draco averted his eyes, staring at Potter’s polished shoes instead. He had really made an effort today. Had it truly been for Draco? Or…for Henry?
“Do you love her?” Potter repeated in an almost pleading tone. Draco pressed his lips together. He couldn’t answer that; there were too many reasons not to. He could feel Potter’s eyes on him, could almost feel his breath on his skin. They were standing too close.
“Will you please stop looking at me like that?” Draco said, pointedly keeping his head down.
“Like what?” Potter whispered.
Draco squared his shoulders before he lifted his head in defiance. “Like you want to look at me.”
Potter’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I don’t,” he whispered. “Believe me, I wish I didn’t want to. I wish—” He leaned closer, sending Draco’s pulse into a frenzy. “I wish things could be different.”
Draco knew this should be his cue to leave. He shouldn’t be here, staring at Potter, only inches apart from him. His lips involuntarily parted when he felt warm, hesitant fingers brushing his. His index finger twitched, moving against Potter’s palm. His hand closed around Draco’s in return. Draco inhaled sharply, curling his toes in his shoes and closing his eyes. Did Potter really want him? Was that it? No, it couldn’t be. He had found someone else. He was in a relationship. He just wanted Draco as a friend.
“I can’t,” Draco whispered, a sharp pain shooting down his throat as he spoke.
“I know,” Potter replied quietly, but he didn’t remove his hand.
Did he know? Draco doubted it. He doubted Potter had any idea how much Draco was suffering.
“I have to go.”
Before Potter could tighten his grip, Draco withdrew his hand and stormed out of the kitchen, out of the flat, without a backward glance.
Chapter 8: Unless You Wanna Come Along
Sunday, 16 March 2003
“It’s about time,” Pansy snapped when Draco stepped into his bedroom.
“What are you doing here?”
“So you really forgot,” she huffed. “We were supposed to have dinner.”
“Oh.” He didn’t even remember making plans with her. He felt too exhausted to rack his brain or even have a normal conversation. He just wanted to collapse and never get up again.
“Come on, if we go now, we can still—Draco?”
He had sunken to his knees, pressing his palms against the cold floor.
“Draco, what’s wrong?” He felt Pansy’s hands on his back as she knelt down in front of him. “Merlin, you’re shaking. Draco, what happened?”
“I—I can’t—” Stubbornly, he tried to hold back the tears that were forming in his eyes.
“Talk to me,” Pansy said, her voice full of concern. She pulled him closer, forcing his arms to collapse, until his head was resting in her lap. Without thinking, he grabbed at her dress, clinging to it as if that would lessen the pain.
“I—” He gulped. “I broke up with Astoria.”
He felt Pansy stiffen. “What? But—You—”
Draco pressed his face into her thighs. He just wanted the pain to stop. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore.
“Oh, fuck! Oh, Draco!” She cradled his head with one hand, while the other started stroking his hair. “How did she react?”
Pansy knew of their arrangement. She knew how much pressure they had been under.
“She was far too understanding,” he whimpered. Unlike mother, he added in his head. He knew she wanted him to be happy and maybe she’d come around eventually, but there was no doubt she would be hurt. He could already picture the disappointment in her eyes. Draco hated that. But there had been no other way. He couldn’t go through with it.
“You did the right thing, Draco. Our parents shouldn’t dictate every move we make. Not anymore. Not when it comes to this.”
Deep down, Draco agreed. Of course he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have broken up with Astoria. And it wasn’t like he had broken her heart. He knew she wasn’t in love with him. But still, he had ruined their plans.
He had ruined everything.
Thursday, April 10 2003
Draco startled when green flames suddenly erupted in the fireplace of his parlour and a very angry-looking Harry Potter stomped out of it.
“You bastard,” he yelled.
“What the fuck, Potter! What are you doing here?”
Potter ignored his question and, without warning, lunged at Draco, grabbing him by his collar.
“You should have told me,” he growled. “You should have told me you broke off the engagement.”
Draco stared at him, bewildered. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me. You should have been the one to tell me.”
“I didn’t break up with Astoria because of you,” Draco said, very aware that he sounded like a stubborn child.
“Oh?” Potter said. He sounded far too cocky. “Why then?”
