zebiks.cc 
Draco slowly nodded, too confused to speak properly.
When he put the suit in his wardrobe that evening, he stared at it for longer than was probably normal. But he couldn’t help it. Not only did that suit look completely out of place, next to his other clothes, it also felt out of place. Because that suit seemed to be holding a promise; a promise Draco was fairly sure Potter wouldn’t be able to keep.
Saturday, 18 January 2003
“I brought you something,” Potter said as he stepped out of the fireplace. Draco peeked over and saw he was holding a bottle of Ogden’s finest.
“At least you have the sense to come bearing gifts,” he drawled, not bothering to get out of his armchair and turning his attention back to his book.
“Well, I thought since we emptied that fancy bottle of wine the other night, I’d make up for it.”
“Fancy,” Draco snorted. Potter really had no idea. “That wine costs 190 Galleons.”
Potter stared at him. “What? Why would you pay 190 Galleons for a bottle of wine? That’s insane!”
Draco pinched the bridge of nose and shook his head. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t understand, even if I explained it to you.”
“Aw, you know how much I like it when you’re being all snooty and contemptuous,” Potter sniggered. He walked over to Draco, swinging one leg onto the armrest. Draco inched away from him, eyeing him sceptically.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for you to get us glasses,” Potter shrugged.
“You know where they are,” Draco retorted. “Don’t act like you haven’t been here almost every day for the last week. You probably know this place better than me by now.”
Potter grinned and jumped off the armrest. Draco wanted to point out he could have just summoned the glasses, but he kept his mouth shut as his eyes wandered down to Potter’s backside. It was a shame he seemed to prefer loose clothing. Then again, it left so much more room for Draco’s imagination, which, on second thought, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Daydreaming about Potter was pretty much all he was doing these days. Spending more time with him, it seemed, only amplified his desire. And even though it got harder to deal with it, he thought he was doing a pretty good job at hiding it.
Well, he definitely should have known better. Three glasses in, Potter was getting emotional again. Apparently, his mother’s birthday was coming up. She would have turned 43. Potter didn’t need to tell Draco how much he missed his parents. He could hear the sorrow and the yearning in his voice, in every shuddering breath. Draco couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable or confused. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around Potter and comfort him. He settled for a slightly trembling hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, avoiding looking at Potter. He was absolutely sure his heart wouldn’t be able to take what he would find in Potter’s eyes.
“Me too,” Potter said hoarsely. And suddenly, Draco felt a warm hand on his. “What do you think our lives would be like if Voldemort had never existed?”
Draco wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a rhetorical question. Probably, since Potter continued talking without waiting for an answer.
“You know, a week before the trials, they gave me your file.”
Draco stopped breathing. He hadn’t known that. Oh Merlin! That probably meant Potter had read all the transcripts of his questionings. Had they also made notes about how Draco had broken down in tears? How he had tried to fight the Veritaserum, screaming, because he didn’t want to relive every horrible detail of the last few years while a bunch of strangers were scrutinising him?
“Honestly, I had to take a few breaks. I couldn’t read it all at once.” He squeezed Draco’s hand. “I always suspected it must have been horrible for you, being a Death Eater, but…What they did to you—”
“Potter—” Draco snatched his hand away, his face twisting. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this.
“Sorry,” Potter mumbled. Draco could feel his eyes on him, the sympathy that was probably shining brightly in them. “But I think it’s remarkable how you made it through that and became the person you are today.”
Draco let out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, a pompous git as you like to put it.”
“You know I’m just teasing. You seem content, that’s what I’m trying to—”
“I have nightmares,” Draco blurted. “Not as often as I used to but—” As soon as the words had left his lips, he wished he could take them back. He always tried so hard to not let anybody see how much he was still hurting, how damaged he was. He didn’t like how his brain seemed to ignore that particular precaution, seemed to be completely shutting down in Potter’s presence.
“I get them, too,” Potter said quietly. “It’s really not fair, is it? Voldemort is gone, but the battle isn’t over.”
Draco said nothing, his throat quickly closing up.
“But I guess we’re trying, right?” Draco felt Potter shift beside him and saw him grab the firewhiskey out of the corner of his eyes. “Another one?”
Wordlessly, Draco handed Potter his glass. Hopefully, the alcohol would make this talk easier. Or better yet, it would lead to a different topic entirely, a happier one. Draco should have known he should be careful what to wish for. Half of that bottle later, their conversation had turned into a dangerous balancing act for him.
“How in Merlin’s name were you able to keep that a secret?” he shrieked, outraged. Potter giggled. He actually giggled!
“Believe me, it was hard work. We never went out in public together,” Potter said with a sigh. “Ultimately, it was too much pressure. We were both unhappy, so we ended it.”
Draco shook his head and took another sip. “I cannot believe you dated Oliver Wood! For almost two years! Without anyone knowing!”
“Well, to be fair, we didn’t see each other that often. He was always travelling and training like a maniac.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Shocking.” He frowned when something else occurred to him. “So you only date former Gryffindors?”
Potter, the prat, looked amused. “That’s just a coincidence. I’ve dated non-Gryffindors, too.”
“Let me guess, they were Hufflepuffs. You wouldn’t be able to keep up with a Ravenclaw, let alone a Slytherin.”
“Is that a challenge, Draco?” Potter laughed.
“Please, Potter, you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
Draco tried to fight down the heat he felt on his cheeks. Was Potter…Was he flirting with him? No, it couldn’t be.
“I think we’d even make a better match than Oliver and I did,” Potter continued. Draco almost choked. “Oliver and I, we never talked like this. Sometimes, it felt like it was just about sex. For him, at least.”
This time, Draco choked for real and started to beat his chest repeatedly with his fist. He put down his glass and leaned his head against the sofa. How he and Potter had ended up sitting on the floor was a complete mystery. As was why they had started talking about Potter’s relationships. It wasn’t like Draco had asked him about it. Or had he? He really couldn’t remember.
“What was he like?” Draco murmured, furrowing his brows at how numb his lips felt.
“In bed?” Potter asked, laughing.
“Yeah.” No, wait, that’s not what he had wanted to say.
“Well, the few times we actually did it in a bed—” Oh, for Merlin’s sake! “—were quite nice.”
Nice? Was that code for awful?
“He could be…gentle if he wanted to. Most of the time, he was pretty aggressive, though. Good aggressive,” he added when Draco opened his mouth.
“How is aggressive good?” he asked. He had wanted it to sound disapproving; instead, he sounded intrigued.
