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Me too, Draco thought, exchanging a long and meaningful glance with him. There was no point in saying it out loud. He had a feeling Potter already knew.
Chapter 7: Think about the Consequence
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 your commentary,” Draco sniffled and tried to suppress a sneeze.
“This is silly, Draco! Why don’t you let me come 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.
“Come 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 me come 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! Come 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 forgotten 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 to come over for dinner,” he said, nonchalant.
“Dinner,” Draco echoed. “You want me to come over for dinner.”
Potter simply nodded and crossed his legs, stretching his arms out on the backrest. He looked far more comfortable than he should have, Draco decided.
“Come 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, welcoming 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, now come on.”
Draco bit back his retort, Potter’s rushed compliment 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.
“You coming?” 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.”
“Not completely, it seems.” He cleared his throat when Potter gave him a sceptical look. “Shall we go?”
