silver | d.m.

28.conversations

March 2005 | H I M

It rains.

Light, rhythmic tapping against the window.

Draco's favourite kind of weather. It's therapeutic, he finds. The sound does wonders for a troubled mind, as though washing away the complicated net of thoughts.

Or, if the net is too sturdy, too stubborn, you'll find rain dampen your trains of thought. You'll find it adding weight to the heavy head.

Then it's the worst.

The absolute fucking worst.

"Hey." Fingers snip infront of him, averting his eyes. Blinking away the daydream, Blaise comes into vision, reality sets in. "Are you even listening?"

"Sorry," Draco rubs a hand over his face. "You were saying?"

Taking a glance at the table, it becomes clear what his friend was going on about, the exact reason for wandering off in the first place.

"Where's your head at, Malfoy?" Blaise closes the magazine—another one featuring his dearest darling girlfriend.

"Certainly not at that," Draco gestures lazily to said magazine, falling back into his big leather chair.

His best friend seems unimpressed, leaning back in the opposite chair as well. "I can tell, knob head. If I bore you, just say so. No need to be rude about it."

Draco has seen all of it. The whole collection of Kiara Yun's printed work published to society, displayed on Zabini's coffee table. Draco has heard all of it. The swooning and gushing and babbling over tiniest details.

At the end of day, it's adorable. Blaise is committed, he worships the hell out of this woman and under the surface, Draco couldn't be happier for his best friend.

He just caught him on a bad day.

"I'm not—I'm sorry." Draco raises his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean to be so short with you."

"It's alright, mate." He's understanding, too much so some times, but also not scared to put Draco in his place when he's being a bad friend. It's why they have, still to this day, such a strong bond.

"It's nice what she's doing," Draco admits.

"It is."

"She's good."

"She is."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"But there's a reason you're her boyfriend and not me."

"I'll cut the raving down," Blaise promises, getting the point. "Now tell me what Silver did or what you did to her or what you both did to each other."

Draco blinks. "Who said it was about her?"

"I do. And everyone else in your close proximity over the last months," Blaise states plainly. "It's all you ever talk about—all you ever think about."

A roll of the eyes seems an appropriate reaction. "That's not true."

"It sure is, mate. Don't worry, I'm not judging. I get it, I really do." Blaise throws an ankle on the other leg's knee. "Now spill what's going on with you. What got your head all screwed up?"

Where to start? Where to go?

"Things are on ice."

"What you mean?"

Draco picks a piece of linen from his dark blue Aurors uniform. "No sex. We're on ice."

"Ah," Blaise appears perplexed. "I thought you..." Draco shakes his head. "And that's a problem?"