Tea

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'He's gone. Great.' Draco thought without as much as blinking to confirm that the other side of his bed was, in fact, empty. He placed a hand on the still warm sheets and got up, grabbing his underwear and putting it on. He walked down the stairs of the Manor slowly, still dizzy from last night, when the sound of his kitchen cupboard being open made him stop for a second. "What the..." Draco froze as soon as he pushed the door, his hand still holding it to support himself as the dizziness seemed to intensifie.

"Your tea tastes like shit, you know." Potter pointed out without looking up from Draco's mug, seeming unbelievably confortable with himself and the whole situation. Jeans hanging low, no underwear. And Draco couldn't stop staring, all the memories from the night before screaming at him that he was the one who had gotten rid of Potter's pants.

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