Saturday, 14 December 2002

“Is that who I think it is?”

Draco was tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. Usually, he didn’t mind Blaise being overly dramatic, but tonight, he definitely wasn’t in the mood for it.

“What did you expect?” he muttered as he sipped at his wine.

“I didn’t expect him to clean up so nicely,” Blaise practically purred.

Draco peeked over at where Potter was shaking hands with dozens of witches and wizards, all smiling broadly at him. One wizard actually looked like he was about to piss himself. Ugh.

“Sweet Merlin, he certainly is more charismatic than he used to be, isn’t he?” Blaise said in an amused tone.

“Can you please not?” Draco said. His eyes lingered on Potter’s robes, the way people were touching them, as if all their sorrows would vanish with just one touch of the Wizarding World’s glorious Saviour. Potter didn’t seem to like it. He nodded and smiled, but Draco could tell from the tension in his shoulders and the weariness in his eyes that he wasn’t enjoying himself.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Blaise said, raising his champagne flute.

“It’s my party,” Draco snapped, pointedly ignoring the fact that Blaise was still waiting for him to clink glasses.

“Exactly,” Blaise said cheerfully, touching his glass to Draco’s with a toothy grin. “I can’t wait till Potter gets to us.”

Honestly, Draco didn’t share the sentiment. He was far morefortable watching Potter from afar. He had been doing it for the last two hours, his eyes rarely leaving that poorly tamed black hair as Potter made his round through the room. It may have been a bit childish, but Draco wasn’t playing cat and mouse for his amusement. He was doing it to keep his sanity intact.

Technically, it was impolite not to greet the host of the party first, but, of course, Potter had no idea Draco was the host. Nobody did, except for his closest friends.

“I need another one,” Draco said, gesturing to his empty glass. “You want something?”

“Why don’t you just wait for one of those waiters toe by? You’ll miss Potter if you go to the bar now,” Blaise said, without looking at Draco.

Of course, this was the very reason he was going to the bar, but Blaise didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll be right back,” he simply said and made his way through the crowd, feeling more wobbly on his feet than he had anticipated. He deliberated switching to water instead of having another glass of wine. He definitely shouldn’t be tipsy while Potter was around.

As he reached the bar, he peeked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Blaise with his most dazzling smile on his face. It appeared Draco had left at exactly the right time. But judging from the way Blaise was stroking Potter’s arm, it was very clear his friend shouldn’t be left alone with Potter. Damn it, where was Pansy when you needed her? Although, Draco doubted that would have stopped Blaise from shamelessly flirting with Potter. Or anyone for that matter.

Draco’s eyes wandered over to Potter, who looked a bit flustered. He drank in the rosy tint on his cheeks, his clean shaven skin, the line of his jaw, the shape of his lips…

Why couldn’t Potter be one of those people who, when you met them years later, suddenly looked hideous and nothing like you remembered them? Why couldn’t he have wrinkles all over his face or a lazy eye or a hunched back? Of course he had to waltz in here, looking even more attractive than he had in school. Why was the world so unfair?

It was suddenly brought to Draco’s attention that there was another thing that hadn’t changed one bit. Potter’s eyes were still so mesmerising, you could drown in them, et everything around you. Draco almost did, except…there was a reason that realisation had suddenly hit him. Potter was staring right at him. Draco felt like the rug had been pulled out from under his feet. A cold shiver ran down his spine, followed by a hot flash that prompted him to subtly lay his hand on the bar for support.

Countless times he had taken a look at the Daily Prophet, only for Potter to stare at him from the front page. Draco always scowled back, sometimes he even stuck out his tongue at the picture. But now…It really wasn’t the same, seeing Potter in person. The most significant difference was, he always looked displeased in those pictures. Now, he looked… not shocked but…almost startled. Why, though?

Draco’s eyes widened as Potter’s lips slowly stretched into the ghost of a smile. He suddenly felt like the Whomping Willow had smacked him in the side of his head. He let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when Potter turned his attention back to Blaise, nodding and smiling politely.

Draco briefly closed his eyes, willing himself to pull it together. But the tingling in the pit of his belly was hard to ignore. He had known this evening would be…challenging, but inviting Potter had been the smart move to make. Draco would suffer through it. For the greater good, so to speak. Inviting Potter to an event automatically sparked the interest of the whole Wizarding World, and that was what Draco needed, no matter how much he disliked it.

It seemed so long ago that he had been a guest to events like this himself, and had actually enjoyed himself. All these rich and pompous people were so incredibly boring and irritating, he couldn’t wait for this night to be over. All he wanted was their money, and he often wondered if they even cared what he was doing with it. So, yes, inviting Potter was smart, because it meant more money. The fact that Draco could watch him from afar was merely a pleasant side effect. But he had to be careful. It couldn’t be anything more than that.

When he opened his eyes, Potter and Blaise were still in conversation, although Blaise did most of the talking. Taking a deep breath, Draco turned around and ordered another glass of wine. Being tipsy around Potter might not be a good idea but there was no way he could endure this sober. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the room for Pansy, when someone cleared their throat beside him. Draco already knew who it was before he turned around, mentally cursing everyone and everything.

“Hey Malfoy,” Potter said with a weird expression on his face.

Draco arched an eyebrow and stayed silent. ‘Hey Malfoy?’ That was his big opening after they hadn’t seen each other in over a year? Really? Well, not that they were friends. They were nothing, really.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he continued.

Draco resisted the urge to scowl at him. “Why? Am I not allowed to enjoy myself?”

“What, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I see,” Draco snapped. “It’s because this is a charity gala and how in Merlin’s name could I be—”

“Ugh, Malfoy,” Potter interrupted him. “Stop putting words into my mouth. I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all.” His eyes darted down to the floor and back up to Draco’s face. “It’s, err, it’s a nice surprise.”

Draco blinked. What? What did Potter mean by ‘nice surprise’? Was he taking the piss?

“You’re doing that thing again,” Potter said with a sigh.

“What thing?” Draco snapped.

“The thing you used to do in school.” He leaned against the bar, cocking his head to the side. “Not everything I say to you is meant as an insult. Well, not anymore.”

“I’m so relieved,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. Potter seemed to be ignoring hisment, his eyes roaming the room.

“Do you know whoanised this?” he asked.

Draco stiffened. “Why do you want to know?”

Potter shrugged. “Apparently this personanised a bunch of things before, but this is the first time they invited me. I’m just curious to know why.”

“Right, because people need a reason to invite the most famous wizard alive,” Draco snorted.

Potter made a face. “I just think it’s strange, being here without knowing who invited me.”

“I’ve been told the host wants to stay anonymous,” Draco said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Why, though?” Potter said with a frown. “If they’re doing something good, don’t they want to be recognised for it?”

Draco could feel beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. “Oh, Potter,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Not everyone is keen on rushing into the spotlight as you are.”

“You know that’s bollocks, right?” Potter said, his frown deepening. “I’d gladly exchange all the ‘famous Harry Potter’ rubbish for a boring, normal life.”

Draco gave him an appraising look. “Normal isn’t exactly the first word thates to mind when you’re concerned.” Or boring, Draco added in his mind.

“Exactly,” Potter said with a loud exhale. He propped up his elbow on the bar, leaning his head against his hand. “But do tell me, what is the first word thates to mind when I’m concerned?” His serious expression turned into a teasing one, catching Draco off guard. What was Potter doing? He looked at Draco expectantly, the corner of his mouth twitching. It was the wrong night to challenge Draco. Two could play at this game.

“A fewe to mind, actually,” he said in his poshest voice. “Awful, uncouth, dowdy, dense…” …handsome, mind-blowing…“…irritating…Do you want me to go on?”

Potter’s grin didn’t fade at Draco’s insults, but he waved a dismissive hand in the air. “That’s alright,” he said. “Even though that’s the most entertaining thing anyone has said to me all night.”

“Why did youe, then? Why not decline? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly a fan of pretentious pure-bloods?” he smirked.

“You realise you’re a pretentious pure-blood, right?” Potter retorted. He arched an eyebrow when Draco burst out laughing.

“Who would have thought, out of the two of us, you would be the prejudiced one?”

It felt good, seeing Potter stare at him in astonishment. It took the edge off the heat that was spreading in Draco’s chest.

“Fair enough,” Potter said. “I’m looking forward to having my mind changed.”

And just like that, the heat was back, tenfold, devouring Draco from the inside.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Potter said, and it didn’t escape Draco’s notice he moved a bit closer.

No. NO! This was exactly what Draco hadn’t wanted to happen, even though he hadn’t thought he’d actually have to worry about it. He couldn’t have Potter snooping around… right in front of him.

“Not much,” he said evenly, keeping his face impassive. “Just…living my life, I guess.” He picked up the wine the bartender had left for him and took a sip.

“What is your life like these days?” Potter asked. Draco couldn’t detect an undertone. He sounded genuinely curious. However, Draco didn’t want to discuss that with him. He didn’t want to discuss anything with Potter right now. He was short of breath and, surely, Potter would notice. His gaze darted to his left and, acting as though someone had just waved him over, he put on an almost convincing smile.

“So sorry to cut this short, but it seems I’m needed elsewhere.”

Without waiting for a reply, Draco hurried through the crowd, until he felt like he put enough distance between them. He bumped into a group of middle-aged witches who we

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