Chapter 8: Sober thoughts

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Harry tucked his cloak away back into his pocket. His stomach felt flippy and his head was spinning. The flood of questions in his head wouldn't stop for nothing.
Draco slumped back on the bed. His face was glum and he didn't seem to be in the mood to talk. But Harry did anyway.

"What on earth was that?"

Draco pursed his lips. "We were visiting recent events. And the reason it just ended like that because that was the present." He reached for a large glass bottle on the night stand.
"It's happening right now?" Harry's eyes were wide and his eyebrows furrowed.

Draco popped open the corkscrew by jabbing his wand into it and jamming it out. He eagerly gripped the neck of the bottle and tilted it down at an angle to his mouth. His eyes closed and relief washed over him as the poison entered his system.
Harry stared at Draco in confusion. It was no doubt a bottle of liquor and not some weird potion this time. Draco held out the bottle to Harry, but he declined. They were still three years under the law's drinking age, and he was just never that fond for the burning sensation of alchohol.

"Yes," Draco replied at last. Harry had already forgot about his initial question. "And my father's expecting me right now. I have to go." He stood up and the bed creaked. He tucked the bottle under a drawer.

Harry grabbed Draco's forearm.
"Wait, show me your mark."
"I have to leave now, Potter." Draco's voice was rushed. He waived a letter in Harry's face which was clearly written from Lucius.

Harry shook his head. "I don't give a fuck about your stupid little meeting. It's not going to work anyway." He hoped he was right.

Draco sat back down and eyed Harry. "You sound unsure of what you're saying. Do you realize what is going to happen? They will take over and claim the Ministry so they'll be them in control. They will eliminate mudbloods, but thats nowhere near as bad as their main goal--"

"Shut up!" Harry's teeth clenched. His eyes burned suddenly. Anger rose from the pit of his gut to his throat. "Shut up shut up shut up!"
"Potter-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He stood up and glared down at Draco like a loose angry bull. "I am sick of this! All of these restless nights with post-traumatic stress from battling that noseless bastard, and you give me this?!" Harry paced around nervously and kicked an object on the floor.
"I can't deal with this anymore. Just when I thought I was going to have a peaceful rest of the year, you ran away and this whole death eater things to kill muggleborns or whatever the fuck."

Draco sat with his mouth slightly open. He wanted to talk, to argue, but nothing came out. Until his mouth slipped.
"Did you miss me?"
It came out sounding more like a sneer than a concerned question. Probably the alchohol kicking into his brain. Draco immediately regretted it but before he could rephrase it,--

"Of course I fucking did! Not at first. I thought you were just too afraid to show your pathetic face again.  Then when I realized you were near and alive, I just needed to see you. But now it's too late. You're going to go off and I'll have to fight against you again." Harry's voice was quivering. He tried really hard to swallow the lump in his throat. "If you go, I'll have to fight you to save the ministry. I'll have no fucking choice, you know? I'll always be Harry Potter, this stupid fucking 'heroic' figure. And blood will be spilled again. Wasn't the war enough blood, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes were now fixed on Harry's hurt look. Harry's eyes were misty behind those circle lenses.
He could only imagine the type of trauma that The Boy Who Lived had to deal with. He lost practically everyone that he cared for. The closest thing he got to a family was probably just Ron and Hermione.
"Please, Draco." It was the first time Harry had referred to him by his first name. "Will you stay?"
Draco nodded. He wanted to find a good excuse so he didn't have to go. Deep down, he knew he would much rather spending time with Harry than to reinforce a ridiculous pureblood propaganda.

But he would also drop to his knees and do anything if it meant making his father proud of him for once.
His father. His mindset changed completely.

"I told my father I would--"

Harry pinched the air in front of Draco's lips. "Save it Malfoy. You can't obey every single thing he says. You have to be your own person." Harry paused. "Actually, scratch that. You can't be the Malfoy that you were taught to be. You have to be Draco, even if your father wouldn't approve of it."

Draco had spent his whole life trying to please his father, who never really cared nor was impressed of him. And staring into Harry's faded deep green eyes, he realized he was right.
And even though their little wizarding world was at stake, in their own worlds there was peace. He chose to stay, since they had to be eachother's only escape out of their reality in the moment. Harry wanted to forget the world, and Draco wanted to both forget and remember. Harry thought of Draco as a perfectly sculpted work of art, and Draco thought of Harry as a very flawed being, imperfectly made from flesh and bones.
And so, the two with their paths of their lives intertwined and coincidentally found eachother at last, it would be pitiful not to savour the moment before they had more serious things to deal with in the morning, right?

Would there be regret in the morning?
Will there be a morning at all? Harry didn't want to stress about the future anymore. For now, there's no such thing as the future. It didn't exist anymore. All that mattered now was the strong sexual tension between the two, and Harry could tell the feeling was mutual.
He closed his eyes and let his worries sink into Draco's lips.

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