An Issue of Consequence

Chapter 6

Or no. No, Draco was actually dizzy. That wasn't Potter. That was the potion Draco had consumed.

"Are you all right?" Potter shot up just as Draco nearly collapsed.

Potter swung them around, which made Draco laugh; it felt like they were dancing. But then Draco was forced to sit, and Potter fussed with Draco's cloak, pulling and yanking. It must have wrapped around Draco awkwardly; he felt a little trapped.

"What the hell is this?" Potter sounded more upset than worried this time.

Draco squinted at him. Potter held a small, silver flask in his hand, right in front of Draco's nose.

"Malfoy family heirloom." Draco nodded.

Potter opened the flask and sniffed with a grimace.

"It's a Calming Draught?" Draco tried again. He couldn't really remember what it was. Lately, there were all these bottles and phials and flasks all over the place. "Or lube?"

"You got drunk?"

Draco was very confused. "I drank lube?"

"It's Firewhisky." Potter's face was suddenly very close. He grabbed Draco's chin much too firmly and stared at Draco's eyes. "Merlin. What the hell, Draco?"

"No, no. I drank some Calming Draught." Draco's head was clearing again. "And something Pansy gave me. Not that!" He pointed at the flask. "That's just... Firewhisky." He frowned. "Oh right." Firewhisky laced with antidote for love spells. "You should have some," he told Potter with a — hopefully — innocent grin.

"I can't believe this. Why would you do that?"

"Um. I was nervous?"

This didn't seem to appease Potter as well as the last time. There was nothing soft about his expression; he just looked pissed off. "And getting drunk helped you how? You can't even stand."

"I can stand," Draco argued. "I'm just choosing not to."

Potter tossed the flask on the bed.

Draco stared at it. "You should really have some. It will help."

Potter wasn't listening. "What's wrong with you? I thought you wanted this. Why would you ruin it?"

"I don't want this!" Except he did. "I mean, I do want it. I want sex. Of course I want sex. I want to have sex all the time. I just don't want it like this." He waved around. "Not this. This isn't right. This is wrong." Draco bit down on his lip to make himself shut up. He was so dizzy. His mind wasn't working properly. But he remembered he wasn't supposed to make Potter angry. That would be dangerous. "You should drink some Firewhisky," he said because he wasn't sure if he'd mentioned it before.

But Potter was looking less and less angry and more and more hurt. Which was good, actually. Because a Potter who was hurting was more likely to drown his sorrows in whisky and less likely to hex Draco to death.

If only Draco could remember how he had hurt Potter. There were words coming out of his mouth, but he could not remember their meaning.

Potter helped him out unknowingly. "If you thought this was so wrong, you should have told me sooner."

"Wrong! Yes!" Draco was pleased he remembered what to say. "This is wrong. Very wrong. All kinds of wrong. And gay. So very gay. You know? Which is... not my thing? It's just ugh, right? Ugh." Draco pretended to shudder. "Urghh—"

"I got it," Potter snapped. He was putting his clothes back on with jerky tugs and pulls. He looked miserable.

"I'm sorry," Draco said because he truly was sorry. He had hoped for more kissing. Things went south much too soon. Potter didn't even drink the antidote, but he seemed to hate Draco enough to break through the spell himself or else he wouldn't just give up.

"Come on," Potter said. "We should go. I have to Vanish this and lock up the place."

Draco felt like saying something nice. "These sheets are really pretty." He patted the silk. "I love them."

"Please. Get up and go." Potter sounded tired.

"We could have a nap first?"

"Draco..."

"Can I keep the sheets? I can't Conjure silk, and I don't have silky sheets here in Hogwarts. Everything is cotton."

Potter grabbed Draco's upper arms and pulled him up. The world spun. Potter was staring at Draco's eyes again.

Draco grinned. "You're pretty, too. Can I keep you?"

Potter's grip eased; it felt more like a hug now. "You can't even walk, can you?"

"Of course I can. I just... can't see very well."

Potter's face darkened, and Draco felt himself falling forward. He hoped Potter was there to catch him.