Chapter 12
Harry found out from Ron.
And he did not take it well.
—
"You’re joking."
Ron shook his head, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair at the Burrow. "Nope. Saw them myself. Draco and Charlie, having a grand old time at some fancy café." He raised an eyebrow. "Looked very friendly."
Harry’s stomach dropped. "Charlie?"
Ron shrugged. "Yeah. Our Charlie. My brother. You know, the one Draco used to be obsessed with when we were younger?"
Harry felt something hot and ugly twist in his chest. "Draco had a crush on Charlie?"
Ron snorted. "Mate, everyone knew that. Kid used to follow him around like a lost puppy at those stupid Ministry functions. Charlie never encouraged it, though—always said Draco was too young." He took a sip of his butterbeer before adding, "But he’s not too young anymore, is he?"
Harry’s jaw locked. "No. He’s not."
Ron gave him a look. "You alright?"
"I need to go." Harry stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.
"Harry—"
But he was already Disapparating.
—
Draco was at Malfoy Manor when Harry arrived, still in his dress robes from whatever event he’d attended earlier.
Harry didn’t bother with greetings. "Charlie?"
Draco looked up from his drink, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Harry took a step closer. "Charlie Weasley? That’s who you’re spending your time with now?"
Draco scoffed, setting his glass down. "Oh, so now you care who I spend time with?"
"You had a crush on him!" Harry snapped. "And now you’re—what? Dating him?"
Draco tilted his head, lips curving into a smirk that shouldn’t have made Harry’s blood boil. "Why? Are you jealous?"
Harry’s hands clenched into fists. "Draco."
"What, Harry?" Draco stepped closer now, gaze sharp. "You don’t want me, but I can’t have anyone else?"
"I never said I didn’t want you!"
"You didn’t have to!" Draco’s voice cracked, and for a moment, the anger between them flickered into something raw. "You made your choice, Harry. And now I’m making mine."
Harry’s breath came fast. "It’s not that simple."
"It is that simple," Draco shot back. "You don’t get to come here, all jealous and possessive, after what you did to me."
Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Draco, please—"
"No." Draco’s voice was firm. "I’m moving on. Whether you like it or not."
Harry’s heart pounded. "You still love me."
Draco’s expression faltered just slightly.
But then, he smiled—a slow, deliberate smirk. "Maybe. But I also think Charlie Weasley is incredibly attractive.*"
Harry’s vision blurred with anger. "You’re doing this just to get back at me."
Draco took a sip of his drink, utterly composed. "Am I?"
Harry felt like he was losing his mind.
Because Draco was his. He knew that.
And the idea of Draco with someone else—especially Charlie—made something dark and possessive coil in his chest.
"This isn’t over," Harry muttered.
Draco merely raised his glass in a mock toast. "No, I suppose it isn’t."