The Buddy System. *Updating In Process*

40. The Lines We Cross for Each Other

I snorted. "Say that again and you're sleeping on the floor."

He only laughed, already eyeing the newly conjured bed like it was the greatest gift he'd ever received.

Draco nearly choked.

Not a polite cough. Not a dignified sputter.

A full, violent, my soul is leaving my body choke.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye and smirked wickedly, utterly unrepentant.

"Well," Blaise continued, tone syrupy with mischief as he clasped his hands together, "now that we have sleeping arrangements sorted... and knowing how exceptionally hospitable our lovely hostess is..." He tilted his head, eyes flicking between me and Draco. "Shall I assume Draco will be sharing—"

"Blaise," Draco hissed, eyes wide with horror, face already going a spectacular shade of red. "Do not finish that sentence."

"—the couch-bed?" Blaise carried on anyway, counting on his fingers. "Or perhaps the armchair-bed? Or—"

I cut him off deliberately, slowly, enjoying every second of it.

"He's staying with me."

The room froze.

Draco made a strangled noise that sounded like his brain had briefly disconnected from his lungs.
"I—what? I—Rae—"

But I wasn't finished. Not even close.

"Because," I continued smoothly, folding my arms and leaning back like I was delivering a closing argument, "the last time Draco slept next to Blaise... they got to second base. And frankly, I'm just trying to keep my man safe."

Theo sputtered so hard he nearly slid off the sofa-bed.

Pansy snorted—an actual, inelegant snort—and slapped her knee, laughing so hard she had to bend forward to catch her breath.

Blaise clutched his chest dramatically, eyes shining.
"Oh sweetheart," he said with mock fondness, "it was he who grabbed my arse—"

"BLAISE," Draco shouted, mortified beyond reason.

I beamed, absolutely thriving.

"Well then," Pansy said brightly, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "on that absolutely cursed note—goodnight!"

"Night," Theo echoed weakly, already slumping sideways and clearly one second away from unconsciousness.

Blaise lifted a pretzel like a toast and gave us a lazy salute.
"Sleep tight," he drawled. "Try not to maul each other. Or do. I won't judge."

Draco groaned and buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking—whether from laughter, embarrassment, or a desperate desire for the floor to swallow him whole, it was hard to tell.

I finally took pity on him—just a little—and slipped my hand to the small of his back, grounding, warm, unmistakably reassuring.

"Come on," I murmured, guiding him gently toward my bedroom as the others began fluffing pillows, arguing quietly over blankets, and settling in.

Behind us, Blaise was still laughing.
Draco was still red.

And I was absolutely, unapologetically pleased with myself.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the room seemed to exhale.

The noise from the common room faded into nothing — no laughter, no murmurs, no crackle of the fire — just warmth and quiet, wrapped around us like a blanket. My bedroom was lit only by the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp, shadows stretching lazily across the walls, familiar and revealing in a way that made everything feel suddenly... intimate.