Friday, 31 January 2003

Draco leaned his head against the back of the armchair, his grip on the blanket wrapped around him slowly loosening.

“I hate everything,” he murmured.

“Yeah, you don’t look so good,” Potter said.

“I don’t need yourmentary,” Draco sniffled and tried to suppress a sneeze.

“This is silly, Draco! Why don’t you let mee through?”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who appeared in my fireplace unannounced, and now you’re inviting yourself into my parlour? Again?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “I always knew you had poor manners, Potter, but honestly.” He tried to hide how much he was enjoying this, even though there was still a tiny bit of wariness lurking in the back of his mind.

e on,” Potter whined. “My knees are starting to hurt.”

“I like having you on your knees, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Potter said, his lips stretching into an impish grin. “Is it too soon to make a virgin joke?”

Draco made a choking sound and felt his cheeks heating up. “Potter, I think it’s time for you to go.”

Potter didn’t give any indication of doing what Draco had told him, which was highly irritating.

“Go away and let me sleep.”

“Don’t be like that,” Potter said with a little pout that was almost too adorable to resist.

“I’m telling you, Potter, I’m sick, and I’m out of Pepperup Potion, so—”

“But I got one,” Potter said in a sing-song voice. “Just let mee through.”

Draco scowled at him as he sunk lower in his armchair, unwilling to admit defeat. “I’ll ask Blaise to get me some,” he said stubbornly, tightening his grip on the blanket.

Potter made the pouty face again. Ugh. “Do you really not want to see me?”

Draco hesitated, his eyes on the carpet. “That’s not fair,” he murmured unthinkingly.

“What was that?”

“Ugh! Fine!e through, you insufferable prat!”

Potter made a triumphant whooping sound before his face vanished. A moment later, green flames erupted in the fireplace as Potter stepped out of it.

“Merlin, Draco, it’s freezing in here! No wonder you’re sick. Have you otten how to cast a heating charm?”

“My magic has been a bit off since I’ve caught this stupid cold,” Draco muttered. Before Potter approached him, he flicked his wand wordlessly. Mere seconds later, Draco felt like he was sitting in the afternoon sun, warm and cosy. He eyed the other man’s hand sceptically when Potter held out the Pepperup Potion to him.

“What do you want in return?” he asked.

Potter smiled at him, deviously. “What makes you think I want something in return?”

Draco gave him a look that said far more than words. Potter sniggered, dropped the potion in Draco’s lap, and plopped down on the sofa opposite of him.

“I was going to ask if you want toe over for dinner,” he said, nonchalant.

“Dinner,” Draco echoed. “You want me toe over for dinner.”

Potter simply nodded and crossed his legs, stretching his arms out on the backrest. He looked far morefortable than he should have, Draco decided.

e on, take the potion so we can go over to mine.” Potter almost sounded impatient. The urge to ask him why he was so keen on spending so much time with Draco was getting stronger. Honestly, he didn’t understand it at all, but he felt drained already. Maybe it was best to leave that particular can of worms unopened for now.

Tipping his head back, Draco downed the potion, weing the burning sensation in his sore throat. The effect was instantaneous.

“Better?” Potter asked.

“Better,” Draco replied, shrugging off the blanket.

“Great, let’s go, then.”

“Let me get changed, first,” Draco said, rising from the armchair.

“Why? What you’re wearing is fine.”

“I’m not dressed for dinner,” Draco insisted.

“You look great, nowe on.”

Draco bit back his retort, Potter’s rushedpliment shooting through him like an arrow. He knew Potter had just said that to shut him up, but his stomach seemed to think it was appropriate to unleash a massive swarm of butterflies, which started fluttering around inside him happily.

“Youing?” Potter said when Draco didn’t move. He furrowed his brows in silent puzzlement and when Draco still didn’t move, he reached for his hand. If only he hadn’t. When Draco’s skin made contact with Potter’s, it was as if sparks were flying between them. Only…there were actual sparks.

“What—”

Potter jumped when the fireplace behind him suddenly roared and his jumper nearly caught on fire. He whirled around, shocked.

“What was that?” He stared at the fireplace before his eyes wandered over to Draco. “Did you just—Was that you?”

Draco swallowed around the lump in his throat. Shit.

“Um…I told you, my magic has been a bit off,” he muttered, lamely.

“But you took the Pepperup potion. You’re fine now.”

“Notpletely, it seems.” He cleared his throat when Potter gave him a sceptical look. “Shall we go?”

“Sure,” Potter murmured, still eyeing him suspiciously. “I’ll go first. Just say you want to go to my flat, I’ll let the wards down.”

Draco nodded, stiffly, and watched Potter vanish in the green flames. He took a few deep breaths before he did the same.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped into Potter’s living room was how empty it looked. The essentials were there, a sofa, a shelf…but there was no trace of Potter. Nobody could have guessed he was the one living here. As Draco pondered that, his eyes fell on the table in the middle of the room; he immediately froze.

“But…you already made dinner.”

“I did.”

“That was a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Draco drank in Potter’s smile. It was teasing, but also…something else. It made him want to smack him…and then snog him senseless. Oh boy. This evening was already doomed.

“I’m only here because you practically begged me,” Draco drawled.

“You can say what you want, Draco, I know you like spending time with me.”

There was something so disarming about thatment, Draco momentarily lost his train of thought. If Potter noticed, he didn’t let it show. He seemed concentrated as he lighted a few candles. Candles! As if this was supposed to be romantic.

“Can you open the wine?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Gladly. You can’t be trusted with an important task like that,” Draco replied, walking over to the table. He reached for the bottle, scanning the label, and furrowed his brows. It actually wasn’t a bad one. On the contrary. It was one of Draco’s favourites.

“Is it not the right one?” Potter asked when he saw Draco frowning at the bottle.

“It’ll do,” Draco shrugged.

“You’re such an arse,” Potter sniggered.

Draco peeked sideways at him, his scalp prickling. Had Potter seriously spent nearly 200 Galleons just to please Draco? Just a few days ago, he had said it was insane to spend that much money on wine. Warmth spread through Draco’s body, which was highly unwee. Shaking his head, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the bottle. He eyed the rest of the table and was surprised to find that Potter had actually managed to put together a rather decent looking meal. He wasn’t too keen on pot roast, but it looked better than he had expected from Potter.

“I didn’t know you can cook,” he murmured as he sat down.

“Yeah, well, some kids learn how to play an instrument, I learned how to cook,” Potter said, taking his own seat.

“Your family taught you how to cook? How very Muggle of them.”

“They were Muggles,” Potter pointed out and Draco noticed there was no humour left in his eyes. “And they didn’t really teach me. I learned as I went. I only knew I was making progress when they didn’t yell at me.”

Draco blinked. “You make it sound like that was amon urrence.”

“It was,” Potter shrugged.

“But…” Draco shook his head. “So you cooked for them?”

“Yeah,” Potter muttered, staring at his plate. “Sometimes they let me have the leftovers. Which wasn’t that often, since my cousin devoured anything remotely edible.”

Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It sounded…it sounded like Potter’s childhood hadn’t been nearly as happy as Draco had thought. Of course he had heard rumours over the years, especially at Hogwarts, but he had always thought people were exaggerating to make the rising of the Saviour even more glorious.

“Are you telling me…” He swallowed, fisting his hand into the tablecloth. “Are you telling me they starved you?”

Potter bit his lip. He looked ufortable. “I wouldn’t say ‘starved’. They…” He sighed. “My aunt gave me enough…to…”

To what? Survive? This was outrageous! Draco’s vision blurred as his stomach twisted painfully. Suddenly, so many little things he hadn’t pondered on when they had been at Hogwarts made so much sense in light of that revelation.

Draco had always been skinny himself and he could basically eat what he wanted without gaining any weight, so he hadn’t thought anything of Potter’s slim figure. But now that he thought about it, he had looked unhealthily skinny in their first year. Draco remembered his disgust when he had watched Potter devour his food in the Great Hall. He had simply thought the prat lacked proper manners. But now…No wonder Potter had been so fixated on food. Draco balled his hands into fists around his cutlery. Those damned Muggles had starved him.

“What the—” Potter let out a yell in surprise as the wine bottle burst into a thousand pieces. There was red wine everywhere. Draco was still flooded with anger, barely noticing that Potter was talking to him.

“Did you just—Was that you? Again?”

Draco didn’t answer, trying not to break anything else in his rage. Potter seemed to notice how tense he was, moving deliberately slow as he reached for his wand. With a quick flick, the shards and the spilled wine were gone.

“There’s still wine on your clothes,” Potter said quietly. His face was unreadable, but there was something about the way he was looking at Draco that gave the impression he was experiencing a flood of emotions.

“Whatever,” Draco muttered. Before he could grab his wand, Potter spoke again.

“No, wait! I don’t think you should be using magic right now.”

Draco rolled his eyes, even though he quietly agreed with Potter. “You do it, then.”

Potter’s face twisted. “No, I don’t trust myself to—No. Let’s just—Wait here, okay?” He got up and darted into another room. His bedroom, Draco supposed. When he came back, he was holding a blue jumper.

“Here, put this on.”

Draco scrunched up his nose and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “That’s ridiculous. Just wave your bloody wand and it’ll get rid of the stains.”

“Draco,” Potter said in a stern voice. “I’m not using magic on you right now. Stop being a baby and put this on.”

Gritting his teeth, Draco wrenched the jumper out of Potter’s hands and stomped into his bedroom, banging the door shut behind him. Throwing the jumper on Potter’s bed, he unbuttoned his shirt with furious fingers and tossed in on the floor. He grimaced as he pulled on the jumper, unwilling to acknowledge how soft it felt against his skin. And…oh Merlin, he didn’t think this through! Of course the jumper smelled like Potter!

Carefully, Draco s

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