Stupid Love

No no no, it can't happen, it's not possible.

Draco bolted upright, gasping, skin trembling, lips quavering, hair damp, sweats pooling at his nape, pyjamas drenched in sweat buckets; his breathing, ragged and shaky.

He tried to calm himself, taking in slow, steady, short breaths, but couldn't. It hurt. It hurt everywhere to breathe; his lungs couldn't take in air nor let out. Every inhalation felt elusive, every muscle around his lungs stung; his heart clenched and made it impossible to draw air.

He needed air, he needed to get out of bed— which grew more and more packed— and run out, but he couldn’t move. His body was limp and stiff; simultaneously. He put his hand over his heart, trying to soothe the heartbeat which went faster than normal: tap tap tap tap, in irregular beats.

After some painful heartfelt attempts he achieved a little calmness and the tap tap tap quite soothed. He brought his knees closer, resting his face on them whilst some drops began welling up in his eyes which he let to flow; grateful for the curtains and silencing charm. He sobbed slowly in his own knees, smudging his pyjamas, drop by drop.

The physical pain of course quelled— not much, but ok-, but the pain in his heart was inexorable. None, absolutely none to calm him down, it was lonelier than it was at the Manor— Manor lonely was lonely lonely, but here it was people lonely. Then again he can’t go to Potter and ask “Potter just hold me” or he can’t ask Weasley to spend some time with him. Oh Salazar, he’ll die of embarrassment the next day!

He can wake Pansy, but not without the notice of Granger— which he was not going to choose, if it’s that or jumping out of the windows from the highest tower— nor Blaise without Longbottom noticing— which was worse than dying by the giant squid. No, he’s not going to do either of it and poster that he, Draco Malfoy, is being hunted by demons and needs to be held.

A nightmare, a nasty nightmare! The Dark Lord’s gone, he’s dead, you’re safe, he kept on chanting inwardly to achieve a bit more quietude, but it just made him cry harder (you see, he was the synonym for pure patheticity these days).

He knew he wasn’t and can’t be normal after sharing home with The Dark Lord; but he didn’t expect to become a freak! Because it would be silly for a normal person to be frightened of the Dark Lord after he’s gone. But Draco had become a freak, he’s not and never going to be normal again.

If he was normal he wouldn’t hear Greyback’s howls, Aunt Bella’s cackles, Nagini’s hiss, the cruciated’s wails. There should be no nightmares of him crucioing and being crucioed, of the pleases, of all Dark spells. He still can’t be having nightmares of his Mother dying, his Father dying,— not that he liked him much, but still— him dying.

He wanted to forget everything, like everything; and everytime he wished for it, it came flashing in front of his eyes; the night at Astronomy tower, nights spent in the Room of Requirement, the Vanishing Cabinet, the snakes roaring from fiendfyre, Crabbe’s de—. Stop! Just stop! He didn’t know who he was asking, but he begged it to stop. His already stained cheeks were washed and stained by the new tears that flowed. More scenes just came flooding into him; The Death Eater meetings, the cries in the dungeons, the shrieks of the elves; it didn’t have a look to stop and neither did his eyes.

Please, let me go! Leave me! He sobbed, groaning. It was so pathetic and puerile to be soaking in a colossal woe and sufferance at the caliginous time of night. His Father would’ve been disgusted to see his son, a Malfoy, bawling out his eyes because he’d had a nightmare; but Draco couldn’t help it. Of course today’s pain was nothing compared to 3rd August, but it was painful nonetheless. Tears just flowed freely.

Not even a day, and you’re having nightmares! And crying. It was like his Father’s voice. A disgrace to the Malfoy name. It hurt to hear it said by his Father. The Malfoy name meant a lot to him and it hurt to think he is a disgrace to it. It’s because of you the family name is ruined.
No, it was your mistake!
Sugarcoat it all you want. But it was yours.
Perhaps a lot, but taking The Dark Mark was not mine.
Draco, how is it not yours?
It was because of you I did it!
Really? If you hated it that much why is it I never saw you refusing.
You knew I didn’t have a choice!
And we both knew it’s a lie. You could’ve refused it.

And for that Draco didn’t have an answer. He could have refused it, but he didn’t; not because he wanted it, it was because he was scared to say no. The voice within accused and spoke all his mistakes. Disgrace, blood traitor, —. His body shook along when he shook off the voice.

He wanted to go to his Mother, lie in her lap and weep,— the last time he had lain on his Mother’s lap was after taking The Dark Mark— like he used to do when he was a child, fighting nightmares with her. Ah! Childhood days! Really awesome days! Days when his Father would take him flying, Mother would spoil him rotten with sweets, days playing around the Manor with Pansy and Theo. Days when his worst nightmare was to be swallowed by a chimera; and deep within he knew it’s never going to happen again;— innocence— it was childish to want it, but it would be nice.

Or Perhaps he could have his green with silver stuffed dragon Oberonis— which his father had thrown away when he was seven stating Malfoy’s don’t sleep with toys. It was a good comfort when his Mother couldn’t make herself available. In his nightmares, Oberonins will be in armours and a shield; and fight with the chimera. It would have him in its back, fly across the sky and put him to sleep. Perhaps these days he knew protective and shield spells; and can protect himself, but there was no one to put him to sleep. If only.

Draco knew the nightmare’s not going to stop anytime soon, and he had classes the next day. He opened his curtains and tip-toed to his trunk, not making the slightest noise. He clicked open the trunk, accioed it, and twirled the glass vial. He knew it was not ok to take it nearly all days in a week, but it was his only hope; he gulped it in a take and walked back to his bed, sealed the curtains and didn’t see the need for a silencing charm. The last thing Draco felt was the fluttering of his eyes, the effect of Dreamless sleep.

When Draco woke up, there was literally a voice battle going on, Potter and Weasley! Fuck! He cursed for not putting up the Silencing charms. It couldn’t be more than half past six. Salazar’s ruddy balls, what really is the need for them to fight at this hour in the morning!

The bickering surged his already visited headache;— from bawling his eyes out for hours at night— a potion to take. Won’t they shut up! It took some monstrous amount of self-restraint to suppress the urge to either tongue-tie or petrify them.

‘No I use it first’ Right, so they’re fighting for the bathroom. What loads of rubbish. ‘Ron! You take nearly twenty minutes to bath.’ Correct Potter, for the first time in your entire oblivious life! Huh! Twenty minutes and to get filthy.Yes, Weasley doesn’t need that long.

‘We have classes at nine! So no, I’m going first, then you. You will bath soon if you know you’re late.’ Oops! Potter had meant that!

‘Mate! From when did you care about going to class on time’ Yes, that would be right.Oh! The Boy Wonder and his best mate can go to classes at any time they please. ‘And it’s called enjoying your “Me hours”’, Weasley said, Draco could literally see that self-satisfied smile on Weasley’s face. But hey, Weasley knows about “Me hours” which he didn’t expect Weasley to have! It was difficult to admit that he agrees with Weasley.

‘Oh! Maybe from the day you wanted to go to school, not to mention I’m not interested in being turned into a pocket watch; and mate, call it “Wank hours'' perhaps.’ What the fuck?! He knew he would’ve choked if he’d been eating.

But wait! Did they two forget they are sharing a room with another person, because from the time he’d had woken up he didn’t hear his name being said.

‘Oh, right mate. Why to ruin your happiness.’ What Weasley did was something Draco didn’t expect to come. Weasley was making ungodly sinful moans. What the actual heck? He didn’t want the mental image of Weasley wanking.

‘Stop it, Ron! Shut it!’ Potter squealed. ‘But you’re not going first!’ Potter stated. Not again! Right, let them fight— or bicker— all they want, he is not going to let Weasley or Potter first.

When Draco opened his curtains he noticed Potter and Weasley lunging for each other;— either throat or face— they stopped halfway when they saw him. He saw realisation striking Potter like ohmygod-we-have-a-roommate-face and an Oops face in Weasley. Draco straightened his pyjamas and walked to the bathroom without a word; but he could feel the piercing gaze of Potter on him and Weasley shrugging.

Draco looked in the mirror to find his hair dishevelled, small black bags which stood contrasting to his pale skin under his eyes, crumpled pyjamas. A mess is what the mirror showed. So it’s going to be like this in the forthcoming days. Freak.

Thirty minutes later when he exited the bathroom,— in a towel around his waist and a loose full sleeve shirt; of course he’s not going to go half-naked in front of Weasley and Potter with something ugly in his hand— he found Potter and Weasley in Potter’s bed; Potter’s hand counting five fingers and Weasley’s counting two. It looked quite weird. Perhaps Potter must have lost his brains, Weasley never had one; so yeah. He saw them having an eye conversation, and Weasley walked to the bathroom. Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter, who just shook his head slightly and turned away. Hmph! At least he’s left with some manners.

He got dressed, gelled his hair back, all in fifteen minutes,— Weasley still hadn’t returned and Potter was reading some muggle ridicule— a record indeed. It was just half past seven, too early to go to breakfast, but he didn’t want to spend any more time there.

He glanced back to find Potter still reading, he’s never going to turn his attention to you. It was true, he knew it all along, but it hurt— not that he was not used to it, after seven years he was adapted to it. But since Potter spoke for him and the letter, he hoped, maybe they could become friends, but that was just his mind. Potter spoke only out of pity, which he resented.

With a shake to his head, he walked to the common room to find Pansy and Blaise already there. It must have been a shock— to find Pansy who would wake up only around eight, to be dressed from top to toe; Blaise however was a morning person— but he wouldn’t be ready this early. He wanted to ask if they are normal, but he knew better than to voice it and not when he was ready this early, which is not usual for him.

It was just so crystal that their dormmates didn’t want to have them more than long;— not that they wanted it either— because who would want to share dorms with Slytherins apart from Slytherins.

Especially when one had been a Death eater, one had tried to hand over The O’ Saviour to The Dark Lord and the other… well Blaise because he was a Slytherin and hate for him was due to the stereotype “All Slytherins are evil!” And that was just the worst thing because no one really tried to understand what it was to be a Slytherin and who they really were; and it’s no use wasting time over them.

‘So, how was it?’ Pansy spoke as they exited the common room. ‘Well mine wasn’t bad, not good either, Patil seemed fine, Granger and I didn’t share a glance.’ Pansy said before he could get a word out, but that was predicted.

He turned to Blaise, raising an eyebrow, who shrugged. ‘Didn’t speak with anyone and none spoke, but I have a feeling it’s just going to be like that this year. And I have a very raging doubt whether there are any more brain cells left,’ he said.

‘Now, now, we don’t want to miss our darling’s time with his crush!’ Pansy smirked. Sometimes he really wondered what would happen if he just killed her.

‘Pansy! We made a deal not to talk about my crush and especially not in the common room.’ Pansy and Blaise snickered, rolling their eyes.

‘Same here. Last night, they were fighting for a fucking bed near the window. And today, you know what they were fighting for? They fought for who is using the bathroom first!’

‘Must be a Gryffindor trait, Thomas and Finnigan were fighting over the bed. Longbottom seems really quiet.’

‘Well he is’, Pansy piped in. Draco nodded in acknowledgement, absentmindedly. Because when they entered the Great Hall it quietened immediately, not even a single whisper or murmur passed, and everyone was looking at them. Alright that’s fucked up! Two options popped up in his mind: Either they must have noticed me only now,— 1% of it agreed to this—or some real shit happened or is going on—99% of his brain went with this.

They glanced at each other silently making their way to the Slytherin table— thank Salazar not a shared table! He still felt all eyes just boring his skull as he unrolled The Prophet, Lacerta had dropped.

Not here again. He saw an image of the Golden Trio from yesterday in the station.

The headline went. Draco knew what would be in the article; Potter this, Saviour that, The Boy Who Lived here… blah blah blah. He was interested in knowing about Potter, but the news The Prophet published was nosy and creepy. Ugh! Isn‘t it something like what? Invasion of Privacy, huh, Potter could just stop these by a solicitor. But he’s Potter for Salazar’s sake! Of course that git would love to have his photos all over The Wizarding World.

It was when his eyes caught a photo of blonde hair similar to his. Okay calm down, calm down. But what the fuck? It was a picture of him, Pansy and Blaise from the station.

‘Hey!’ Blaise snatched the paper from him.

‘Give it back!’

‘No! You’re not going to read that shit!’

‘Blaise! Be it shit, but it is my shit and I get to know it. Just give it back!’

‘Dray, leave it’, Pansy countered, he heard a mix of pity, annoyance and loads of anger in it; which he completely ignored.

‘Oww! You clotpole’, Blaise shrieked, dropping the paper and snatched it away. He didn’t want to throw a stinging hex at Blaise, but he needed to know what was in there— oh, and he was glad none noticed. He read despite Blaise’s groans.

Why the fuck will it not be?

Is Hogwarts safe? It’s been four months since the demise of The Dark Lord, all the remaining Death Eaters who survived the battle were arrested and were to spend their lifetime in Azkaban, except for one. Draco Malfoy, the Malfoy heir; who was released on the words of The Saviour himself,— while his Father is spending his time in Azkaban— despite his crimes and associations— not to stress the fact they were rivals. Mr Malfoy was known to be one of the Death Eaters in the inner circle of The Dark Lord and known to have major involvements in Dumbledore’s death. The very same Mr Malfoy and his friends are to return to Hogwarts for the coming year to complete their final year along with The Saviour (A photo of Mr Malfoy, Mr Zabini and Ms Parkinson, from The King’s Cross). Chances are likely for a covert operation to take place to attack the School or to harm The Saviour. Parents are worried for their children’s safety and the Saviour’s, as will there be another Death eater attack. Are students safe at Hogwarts due to his return? Is it right to let someone dangerous again? Is the Headmistress in her right mind to allow an Ex-Death eater among other students including the Saviour? Will there be a rise of another Dark Lord?

Okay. Should not have read that! He lifted his head to see some students looking at him and turned to Pansy and Blaise, who had a worried expression on their faces. Pansy reached for the paper and crumpled it with indignation.

‘Come on Draco, she’s a bitch and we know that’, she said. Draco sighed, nodding his head slowly. He glanced at the High Table and saw Professor McGonagall looking at him through the corner of her eyes. He groaned internally, he shouldn’t have come back, he knew all of this would happen and still returned. You never learn from the past, do you?

One day here and he had got hexed, shared a dorm with Potter and Weasley— and was alive—, had disgusted looks from everyone, had a heart wrenching nightmare, been throwed insults, had an article about him in The Prophet. Awesome! Great! Karma did its job perfectly!

Distraitly he munched on his breakfast, face cold and neutral as always. One would say his looks were like everything was normal and there was not an article about him— because that’s how Malfoys are supposed to be and he pulled off the look brilliantly. But there was pain within his heart which no one needed to know; he sealed all his emotions and feelings at the back of his head, because he’s there only for the NEWTs and will never turn here again. So all he needed to do was adjust for a year, focus on studies, get good results in NEWTs and leave the place immediately. Just studies, no drama nor fun.

They had Transfiguration the first hour which meant sharing class with all eighth years— the thing is, since only less pupils returned all core subjects are to be combined. And this meant the only peaceful hour was Ancient Runes, because none in the eighth year had taken An—. Salazar’s hairy balls! Granger would be there! Ugh! No! Just no! Of course, there’d be other students from seventh years, but from eighth year it’s only him and Granger. He can’t be alone with Granger and walk out alive after everything. Okay, so death in the Ancient Runes classroom. Alright Draco that’s dramatic.

***

‘Bloody hell!’ Ron said. It really was bloody hell. When he, Ron and Hermione entered The Great Hall nearly half the school surrounded them to get autographs and photos.

Every time he saw a younger year student jumping enthusiastically, pain began swirling in his heart; it reminded him of Colin Creevey. A small boy so happy, animated, following him for a photograph, tried to take a photo even when he was injured— innocence—; and till his death Harry never willingly posed for a photo for that young lad. And all he was able to do was give Colin his photo at his funeral, maybe, just maybe Colin would forgive him.

All through the years it would have taken, what, a minute to pose for a photo; which he didn’t do. At that age he didn’t want the admiration and praise,—he still doesn’t— but for someone else it was like a life wish. Colin had always admired him— which he didn’t deserve,— but for the boy’s sake he could have done it. Never made anyone happy nor fulfilled their wishes, did you?

It was Colin’s death that said to fulfill others’ wishes, small things which he could do, not take them to dates or anything, but he can fulfill a young girl’s enthusiasm to get an autograph or a young lad’s verve to get a photo, but not to this media— because we never know what happens the next minute, do we? Forgive me Colin. I’d never do that again to another person. He blinked back the tears that were to flow.

‘Mate, you good there?’ He didn’t realise he’d zoned out until Ron clapped his shoulders.

‘Ye—Yes. Good.’

‘You sure Harry? You were a bit out’, Hermione asked, hesitantly worried.

See this was the entire problem; everyone was afraid to speak to him— not in the bad way— like he was made of glass; and would break if not been careful. He hated it. He’s a murderer, be it killing a good person or an evil person, it’s still murder, isn‘t it? And here people are pitiying him, including his friends, which he definitely didn’t need!

‘Yes. No. I mean yes, I'm al— alright.’

He saw Ginny and Luna huddled together at the table. He really was happy for Gin, till date they remain good friends. It was nice to see her with someone who loved her. Luna smiled brightly when they approached the table, Ginny waved to them.

‘Hullo Harry.’ Luna’s gloomy voice as always. It was nice to be treated normally.

‘Hey Luna. Morning Gin’, he greeted. ‘Morning Harry.’

‘You look lugubrious Harry.’

‘What’s lu—’ Ron began.

‘Must be the Nargles. Try to get off with it’, she cut in and continued with her pudding. Sometimes he really got confused if Luna was talking about the Nargles or the problem.

‘So enjoyed last night, huh?’

‘Nooo.’ Ron whined. ‘Sharing dorm with Malfoy!’

‘Oh Ron! I didn’t hear about it.’ Sarcasm just flowed from her lips.

‘What? So soon?’

‘More than half the school knows brother!’ Ron went silent muttering something about Gossip mill.

Ron pushed The Prophet to him, where he saw a photo of him, Ron and 'Mione and below it there was a photo of Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini. Rather than reading the news about him, he went for the news about Malfoy.

What loads of rubbish does she even write! He turned to the Slytherin table; Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. It must be devastating to read something like this about own self, he knew how it’d feel. Harry wished he could speak to Malfoy, at least call a truce or something like that, something comfortable enough. He sighed, no use over it.

They were a minute late to Transfiguration despite Hermione’s grumbles. It’s all because of the elves! Food that can’t be missed! It was sad because there was no treacle tart, but no less. It was just brilliant.

Professor McGonagall fixed them with a stern glare at the door. ‘Twenty points from Gryffindor. Each. Mr Potter, Mr Weasley don’t make me reconsider the pocket watch.’

Ron and him shared an amused grin. Godric! That was in first year. They looked at Hermione who was all flushed, she was burning them with her eyes and grumbling.

Since they were late only the last desks were free; and Harry and Ron were more than happy for a last bench,— Hermione took a seat across them— except that meant sitting behind Malfoy! But that’s alright. They can be like the other didn’t exist.

Ron passed him a parchment when Professor McGonagall turned to the board; which read, Mate!!! We are the first to lose points for Gryffindor this year too!!! Next to it was a doodle of proud faces— his and Ron’s. Yup! He wrote, doodling a grinning face, for which he received a face grin.

They were passing parchments for quite some time— taking notes was on one side— receiving a glare From ’Mione everytime— they can’t risk talking in Professor McGonagall’s class!

As they left class they saw a merry twinkle on Professor McGonagall’s face.

***

Whoosh… The soft zephyr swooshed his hair dishevelling it slightly, the only sounds were the susurrous rustles of the leaf and ripples sound. He was sitting at the edge of The Black Lake— of course with mud repelling charm. It was somewhat minutes past lunch, but he didn’t cast a tempus to check it.

It was here Draco spent more time last year, escaping when he couldn’t bear the sounds of wails and pleas. It was soothing and alone in there, not many came here. Today he was here once again to escape the noise of the castle. He could’ve gone to his dorm, but like him Potter and Weasley didn’t take History of Magic, Pansy and Blaise were in Arithmancy which left him alone here.

He placed his chin on the knees, looking over the lake. His mind was calm, not a thought ran across, he was not thinking about anything; it was just blank. But to him it was calm before the storm.

Some minutes or seconds later— he didn’t know— he heard footfalls. Towards him! It can’t be Pansy or Blaise, so… someone to beat his shit up. Brilliant! He turned to see who it was and was not surprised to find Potter. But Potter was not approaching him; he was walking to the other side of the trees— a row of trees and bushes hid him from Potter’s view.

He saw Potter lain down on the floor, not even casting a charm. Uncultured swine. He wanted to leave before Potter noticed, but also wanted to enjoy the silence and he went on with the latter. As long as they didn’t know the other was there, there can be no issues. And so Draco went back to look at the glossy water whilst Potter stared at the sky. Okay, maybe it was nice too.

Not even five minutes he heard footfalls again, and it was Weasley this time. Of course Potter and his sidekick are package deals, without the other, the other wouldn’t exist.

‘Hey Mate’, Weasley said. ‘Whatcha doing here?’

‘Hey. Nothing, just… sulking?’ Something was off about Potter’s voice. It missed the cheeriness in it; and it hurt Draco somewhere, which he ignored.

‘Something wrong, mate?’ Weasley asked plopping next to Potter. What a blatant question! Of course something’s wrong. He knew it’d be written all over Potter’s face that he’s not alright, and still Weasley is asking that question.

He wanted to leave because it was creepy to listen to someone else talk. No! Why should he leave, he came here first. If it’s to leave it should be them.

‘No. No, I— I’m good’, he heard Potter say, which was a lie. So what’s wrong with Potter?

‘You know you can talk to me, right mate.’

‘Of course, yeah!’ Potter said strongly.

They were quiet for quite sometime before Weasley decided to break the silence. ‘Still not over Gin?’ Wait! So Potter and the Weaslette are not together? How? How? How? How did they break up? When did this happen? Was it in The Prophet? Wait! He shouldn’t listen to them talking. Draco close your ears! He was not eager. Okay! A bit.

‘No! Yes, yes! I mean she’s happy right, and that’s what is important.’

‘Harry. Are you happy?’

‘I don’t know mate. Gin’s brilliant and she deserves to be happy. Me… I’ll be good with time.’ That’s something intelligent coming from Potter.

‘I know you won’t like this, but, just go on a date or two with any of the girls. I mean why not?’ Bad influence Weasley. He heard Potter sigh.

‘They all want to go with me just because they think I’m The Saviour.’

‘Mate, sometimes love can be in unexpected places.’ The next time Weasley spoke there was a sheepish voice. ‘You know like me and 'Mione.’ Unexpected! Are Gryffindors really that oblivious! Even the Slytherins placed bets on when Weasley and Granger would get together, it was that obvious.

Potter snorted. ‘My, my, my, look at the lover boy speaking! And Ron yours was far from unexpected. You both were together for a long time, it just took long enough for both of you to come in agreement with that.’ Yes, Potter. Make the Weasel understand that! Okay the ginger must be all red now, Draco assumed.

‘But seriously mate try going with someone, maybe it’d be a success.’

‘Nah, everyone who asks wants to go with the Saviour, not... Harry.’ Isn’t it the same thing?

‘Makes sense. Try some boys. Are there boys asking you?’ Boys? Does that mean Potter is gay? Is that why he and the Weaslette broke up? No, wait! Weasley first asked about girls, didn’t he? Does that mean Potter is bisexual?

‘One or two, and that’s because they don’t know I bend both ways.’ How come The Prophet never made any news about it, with Skeeter working there.

‘Harry you can’t be like this forever you know, denying the fact someone really loves you’, Weasley said. ‘Try with muggles, if you want to be Harry.’ That’s wrong Weasley, very wrong.

‘Then again I’ll have to hide a part of myself, won’t I?’ Potter! You can’t expect everything to go in accordance.

‘Mate, you put an end to every path I find.’ Yes Potter, what really are you expecting? Someone perfect? Greedy fellow!

‘Well, I am a bisexual disaster, ain’t I?’ Aha! Speaking the truth, Potter. Good for you.

Weasley snickered. ‘Well yes! My mate is a bisexual disaster! And I’m bloody proud of it!’ Weasley almost yelled out. Potter chuckled. ‘But mate, try going out with someone. I just want you to be happy.’

‘Well I am happy. And I want someone to accept both of us. Not just anyone who wants fame by being with me. Someone to love, like you and 'Mione, the living part, not the “denying part.”’ Both of us? Who the heck is the other? Weasley didn’t speak after that, but he wanted him to speak because he very badly wanted to know who the other one was! Weasley open your uncontrollable mouth!

He was thinking of all possibilities about who the other one was. Did Potter and the Weaslette have a child? If so it should have been in The Prophet. Did he miss it? Or did Potter have a secret child with someone else? Did Potter have some secret lover, with him being bisexual? Salazar’s left nipple, who the hell is that person? Okay, so it’s a task.

His mind was a mess by the time he left. He found out Potter was single these days, he found out Potter was bisexual, bisexual disaster to be specific. Which means Draco has a chance, maybe he could try. But the other half of him was like, what if Potter rejects him again? So he shouldn’t try on that. It’s just a crush he could get over with, not like he loved Potter with all his heart and soul. He needs answers. He needs Pansy. Now!