make your choice //oneshots (harry potter)

i can take away your pain (past drarry, tomarry)

What's a friend for if not to soothe an aching heart?

Tom/Harry, past Draco/Harry

The door slams hard as he finally arrives home. There's the sound of shuffling as a coat is taken off and hung up. There's a struggle- a very, very loud struggle as Draco nearly tackles the coatrack.

Maybe it wasn't his intention to be loud with the way he's drunk off his tits, but Harry knows that Draco isn't exactly a kind drunk.

Jangling keys are tossed onto the small table by the door and Harry feels like he knows exactly what's about to happen.

"Draco." Harry starts from his place on the sofa.
He can feel the headache coming on before a word has even left the man's mouth.

This is the sixth night this month.
He doesn't know what's been going on with his boyfriend, but this is the third month in a row that he's been coming home with a lack of sobriety in mind.

"What?!?" Draco snaps, heading straight to the kitchen. A cupboard is opened and smacks against the other wooden door beside it, making him cringe. Rummaging, glass cups, then something is set on the counter. Loudly.

"Draco, please. Can you just come sit down?"

"Sit down?" Draco slurs from the kitchen, and then he reappears, a bottle in hand. He walks slowly across the room, eyes narrowed as he unsteadily makes his way to the loveseat.
"I'll do what I want when I want... Potter."

There's a sting of resentment that Harry feels- maybe even a stab.
They haven't called each other by their last names since... forever. Not since they've moved in together and not since they've been dating.

Recently, though, it's becoming a reoccurrence.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry says, annoyed.
Because this isn't the first time Draco has done this. This isn't the first time that Draco has come home piss drunk with a deadly breath and messy attire.

"What are you, my mother? Quit bothering me." Draco manages out, the bottle swaying in his grasp as he raises it to his lips.

"Your fucking boyfriend, Malfoy." He hisses, swiping the bottle from the blond's grasp.
There's a loud protest that starts but quickly stops.
Harry feels a flash of something like relief when Draco says nothing, but it is quickly replaced by hurt when a fist makes contact with his cheek.

He forgets all about the bottle as it slips out of his hand and onto the carpeted floor; still in shock, his hand flies to his stinging cheek.

"What the FUCK?!" He shouts, eyes stinging as he snaps his gaze back to his drunken boyfriend.

"Fuck YOU!" Draco shouts back, an accusatory finger pointing into his face.
"You have been nothing but a fucking mistake! Can't drink, can't fuck, can't do shit with you! Leave me the fuck alone!"

"Oh, leave YOU alone?" He echoes, already standing from the sofa.

There is nothing but a rapid heartbeat in his throat and a fire in his veins, and he wastes no time in shoving that damned down before slapping the man across the face.

Draco shouts and reels aback at the force of it, clutching at his face.

Serves him right. Bastard.

"Fuck you- we're DONE. You're out tomorrow morning." He spits out, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.

He shoves his things into his pockets in no time, and his jacket is on faster than he can slip on his shoes.

All he hears when he slams the door behind him is a low string of pathetic curses.