Tuesday, 14 January 2003

“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?”

“Sir, please calm—”

“I’M GOING TO CALM DOWN WHEN YOU TELL ME WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HE IS!” Draco slammed his fist on the counter, glaring at the nurse. “I need to see him. Right now. Nobody is telling me anything. I don’t even know how bad his injuries are!”

“Sir, it’s not—”

“Draco?”

He whirled around,pletely taken aback by the soft green eyes blinking at him.

“P—Potter! I—I thought…” Relief and irritation flooded through him. What the bloody hell was going on? “I ran into Weasley and he said you were at St Mungo’s.”

“Yeah, to get a check-up.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I’m technically still part of the Auror program. It’s mandatory to get a check-up every six months.”

Draco balled his hands into fists. Weasley! That buffoon! He should have been more specific. Then again, maybe Draco had overreacted just a little bit. He hadn’t even thought twice before running off to the hospital, frantic and panicked. If he had stopped to think about it, he would have realised Weasley wouldn’t have been in Diagon Alley but at Potter’s bedside if his condition had been serious. Bugger!

“Did you think I was hurt?”

Draco bit his lip. “No?”

“So you just like yelling at people?” Once again, Potter looked far too amused.

Draco clicked his tongue before he turned to the nurse. “I’m sorry about that,” he said.

She regarded him closely, her gaze flickering back and forth between him and Potter. “It’s alright. But if you would have let me talk, I could have told you Mr. Potter wasn’t injured.”

Draco made a face, feeling foolish for embarrassing himself, yet again, in front of Potter.

“Hey, since you’re here,” Potter grinned, “I need to run some errands. Care to join me?”

Draco just stared at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Potter was actually glad he hade to St Mungo’s. Maybe it was the confusion over that elusive thought, mixed with the relief to see Potter in one piece, that prompted him to nod.

“Great,” Potter beamed. “Although, I think we might need to transfigure your cloak into a coat.”

“Why?”

“We’re going into Muggle London.”

“What?”

Before Draco could protest, Potter pushed him down the corridor and out the door. He had the audacity to look chipper and whistle the whole way to the shop he hauled Draco to. When they stepped inside, Draco glanced around.

“Is this some kind of Madam Malkin’s for Muggles?” he asked.

“If you want to put it that way,” Potter smiled. Draco had a suspicion he would never get used to that, Potter smiling at him. He turned away, eyeing one of the mannequins as a woman approached them.

“Hello,” the woman said in a cheerful tone. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Yeah,” Potter said. “I’m looking for a suit.”

“Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Not really.”

“Do you need it for a specific asion?”

“Yeah, um, a wedding,” Potter said, his eyes darting over to Draco.

“Oh, congratulations,” the woman said with a big smile on her face.

“Oh, no, no,” Potter said hastily. “I’m not—We’re not—It’s not our—I’m just a guest there.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” the woman said, looking embarrassed while she brought up a hand to cover her mouth. “Would you like me to get a few options?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Potter said. It didn’t escape Draco’s notice that he looked a little flushed.

As soon as the saleswoman had vanished, he quietly cleared his throat, willing his voice to sound only mildly interested as he asked, “Who’s getting married?” He watched Potter fidget with the sleeve of his coat.

“Cho.”

“Cho?” Draco echoed, cocking his head. “Chang? Cho Chang is getting married?”

“Yeah, to a Muggle. They decided to have a Muggle wedding.”

While Draco processed that, he was pleased to find no hint of regret or anything indicating resentment in Potter’s voice. Everybody knew he had drooled after her in fourth year. Their short-lived romance a year later had been the talk of the school back then, and Draco still itched to know why they had broken up.

“Hey,” Potter said quietly. “If, um…Are you—I mean, err—”

“What?” Potter stammering like that made Draco edgy. He knew nothing good was about to follow when Potter was showing signs of nervousness.

“If you’re not doing anything that day…um…That is to say—Err, you want toe?”

“What?” Draco gawked at him. Had Potter really just asked him what Draco thought he had asked? “To the wedding? With you?”

“Yes?” Potter said in an usually squeaky tone.

“Oh.” Heat immediately rushed to his cheeks. Potter, that blockhead! Didn’t he know what inviting someone to a wedding implied? Of course he didn’t. Besides, Draco knew the only reason Potter had just asked him was because he was short of options. He had said all of his friends had partners and he probably didn’t want to show up there alone or with someone he barely knew. So, really, he was asking Draco because he had nobody else. How charming. But, seriously, no matter how desperate Draco might have been for Potter’s attention—Ugh!—he still had his dignity. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But… wasn’t that what he was doing right now? epting the fact that Potter spent time with him because he apparently had nobody else to turn to? Was going to a wedding with him for the very same reason really that much worse?

“When’s the wedding?” Draco asked, keeping his face impassive.

“May 24th.”

“Potter, that’s four months from now,” Draco spluttered. So much for being impassive.

“So?”

So? Potter really was the densest person to ever walk this earth.

When the saleswoman returned with a selection of suits and showed Potter the way to the changing booths, he paused before he went in.

“Just think about it. It might be fun to go together,” he said with a smile.

After he vanished behind the curtain, Draco sat down on the padded, cream-coloured bench in front of the big mirror. He knew he’d have to make a decision sooner or later. Could he really stomach where this might be going? Could he really be friends with Potter? Oh Merlin, was it too late? Were they friends already? But…what if…what if Potter started dating someone? Draco’s head started spinning as a sudden surge of jealousy hit him. If Potter was already dating someone, it would be different. But it would be such a slap in the face if he found someone new, someone who made him happy, after spending so much time with Draco, after getting to know him. Draco knew he was being irrational. There was no way Potter would ever actually want to date him. Aside from the fact that he couldn’t, because Draco—

“Okay, here Ie,” Potter called.

Boy, it was a good thing Draco was sitting down. As soon as Potter pushed the curtain aside and stepped out of the changing booth, Draco’s jaw hit the floor. He had thought Potter looked good wearing formal robes, but looking at him now, clad in a blue suit, he was forced to reconsider.

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Potter asked, looking utterly ufortable. Draco could only stare at him with his mouth hanging open. He looked absolutely breathtaking.

“Ridiculous is one way to describe it,” Draco muttered. Ridiculously handsome, he added in his mind.

Potter made a face and looked down on himself. “I’ll try on another one,” he said, closing the curtain again. Instinctively, Draco clutched at his chest, as if that would prompt his heartbeat to slow down. Merlin, Potter would be the death of him. That notion seemed to be confirmed when he stepped out again, this time wearing a grey suit. “What do you think?”

Draco cleared his throat, acting as though he waspletely unaffected. “It’s not horrible,” he murmured.

“Isn’t it too tight?” Potter asked.

Honestly, the only thing that was too tight right now were Draco’s trousers. He quickly crossed his legs and folded his arms over them, hoping he looked nonchalant.

“Try another one,” he said, hoping Potter would oblige and give Draco another chance to calm his nerves. As Potter vanished behind the curtain once more, Draco saw the saleswoman approaching him.

“I took the liberty of picking one for you as well,” she said, offering Draco the suit in her arms.

“That’s alright, I don’t—”

“That’s a great idea,” Potter called from the changing booth. “You’ll need one if you’reing as my—If you’re going to the wedding with me.”

Draco stopped moving as the rest of Potter’s unspoken sentence echoed in his mind. Had he really almost just said ‘if you’reing as my date’? Draco quietly choked, unbelievably grateful Potter couldn’t see him right now. It had probably just been a stupid slip. But either way, Draco felt flustered as he wordlessly took the suit from the saleswoman and darted into the changing booth next to Potter’s.

He quickly slipped out of his clothes, grumbling under his breath, and put on the dark blue suit. The saleswoman had added a matching tie to it, which Draco looped around his neck. He was just about to reach for his wand, stashed away in his transfigured cloak, when someone tugged at his curtain.

“What’s taking so long?” Potter asked impatiently.

“Just give me a moment,” Draco answered, fumbling for his wand.

“Are you wearing the suit?” Potter edged on.

“I am,” Draco sighed. “But—Hey!” Draco whirled around as Potter drew back the curtain. “You can’t just barge in here,” he snapped.

Potter shrugged. “You said you were wearing the suit.” Draco made a face, but let himself be tugged outside, suddenly feeling a bit shy. He had never worn a Muggle suit before.

His breath caught in his throat when Potter put his hands on Draco’s shoulder and started eyeing him intently. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. When he cleared his throat and took a step back, Draco wanted to groan.

“You look…” Potter’s gaze became more intense before he cleared his throat again. “You look really good.”

Somehow, Draco got the impression Potter had wanted to say something else.

“You…don’t look too bad yourself,” Draco said, which was such an understatement, he almost cringed. Potter looked fabulous. The black suit, paired with a bow tie and a silky white dress shirt made him look like he had just stepped out of a painting.

Potter gave him a lopsided smile that stopped Draco’s heart.

“You need help with that?” Potter asked, pointing at the tie that still hung loosely around Draco’s neck.

“Actually,” Draco grumbled, “I was just about to get my wand, so I could tie it, when you dragged me out here.”

“Wait,” Potter said, frowning, “you can only do it with magic?”

“Why in Merlin’s name should I know how to do it without magic?” Draco retorted, pursing his lips.

Potter shook his head and let out a little laugh. e here,” he said, but didn’t wait for Draco to oblige and stepped closer instead.

Draco went rigid when Potter reached up and grabbed the tie, brushing his fingers against Draco’s neck in the process. By ident. Surely, it was by ident. Also, did he have to stand so close? Draco could feel his breath on his skin, he could smell him…Fuck. This was torture!

“There you go,” Potter said, looking pleased

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