"Why me"
Draco tugged his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he made his way to the exit of the Ministry. The day had been long, frustrating, and filled with far too much of Orion Veyne’s smirking face. The man had been in his thoughts ever since Thorne’s revelation , how was it this man knew him. Why did he seemed determined to get Draco alone.
The grand atrium was quiet now, with only a handful of late-working Ministry employees milling about. Draco stepped toward the gilded fireplaces used for Floo travel, his thoughts slowing shifting to be consumed by plans for a quiet evening with a stiff drink and no interruptions.
“Leaving without me, partner?”
Draco froze mid-step, his head snapping toward the voice. Orion Veyne was leaning casually against the wall near the exit, arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips. His dark robes looked even more impeccable in the dim light, and his glowing purple eyes—those bloody eyes—practically sparkled with mischief.
Draco scowled. “What are you doing here?”
Orion pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his stride as confident as ever. “Thought I’d catch you before you vanished into the night.”
“I wasn’t planning on vanishing,” Draco said, his tone clipped. “Just heading home. Alone.”
Orion tilted his head, pretending to mull over Draco’s words. “Home sounds… boring. How about a drink instead?”
Draco blinked, caught off guard by the casual suggestion. “What?”
“A drink,” Orion repeated, as though speaking to a child. “You know—firewhisky, mead, maybe something stronger if you’ve got the nerve. Unless you’re the type who spends their evenings sipping tea and reading.”
Draco bristled. “For your information, I’m perfectly capable of handling a drink.”
“Prove it.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Is this how you always ask people to spend time with you? With thinly veiled insults?”
Orion chuckled, his smirk softening into something almost sincere. “Only when it works.”
Draco stared at him, half-convinced the man was playing some elaborate game. But there was something disarming about the way Orion stood there, confident but not pushy, like he already knew Draco would say yes.
“Fine,” Draco said at last, adjusting his cloak with a sharp tug. “But only because I need to clear my head after the day I’ve had.”
Orion’s grin widened. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Malfoy.”
Draco shot him a glare but didn’t bother arguing. As they headed out into the cool evening air, Draco found himself wondering—not for the first time—why Orion Veyne was so interested in him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Leaky Cauldron was dimly lit, its usual lively chatter subdued this late in the evening. Draco and Orion sat across from each other in a booth tucked away from the main bar, a half-empty bottle of fire whisky between them. The silence stretched long and heavy, punctuated only by the occasional clink of a glass or the scrape of a chair in the distance.
Draco stared at his glass, swirling the amber liquid absentmindedly. He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to this—why he was sitting here, of all places, with a man who irritated him at every turn. Orion, for his part, seemed completely at ease, leaning back against the booth with one arm draped over the seat, his purple eyes fixed on Draco.
Finally, Orion broke the silence. “You’re vibrating with anxiety, Malfoy.”
Draco’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not.”
“You are,” Orion countered smoothly, his voice low and calm. “Your shoulders are stiff, you keep clenching your jaw, and you haven’t taken a proper sip of that drink since we sat down.”
Draco’s fingers tightened around his glass. “Maybe I’m just not thrilled about spending my evening with a stranger who seems to enjoy winding me up.”
Orion’s smirk flickered, replaced by a faintly amused expression. “Fair enough. But somehow, I don’t think that’s it.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze sharp. “So, what is it?”
Draco hesitated, his instinct to deflect clashing with the unsettling sense that Orion could see right through him. He exhaled sharply, setting his glass down with more force than necessary.
“It’s you,” Draco admitted, his tone sharper than intended. Why couldn’t this man just STOP pushing him. “Why me? Why request me as your partner? You don’t know me. I don’t understand what game you’re playing, and frankly, I don’t like being left in the dark.”
Orion tilted his head, his smile losing its usual smirk and turning softer this time. “No game, Malfoy. I requested you because you’re good at what you do.”
Draco blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. “You’ve never worked with me. How would you know that?”
Orion shrugged, his gaze never leaving Draco’s. “I’ve done my homework. You’re smarter than people give you credit for, resourceful, and—despite what you’d like everyone to believe—you care. You care about doing the job right, even if you hide it behind that icy exterior.”
Draco stared at him, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted. “You’ve got a strange way of showing respect, Veyne.”
Orion laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t waste my time on people I don’t respect, Malfoy. You’re just fun to ruffle.” Draco’s scowl deepened, but he couldn’t stop the faint heat rising to his cheeks. He reached for his drink, taking a longer sip this time.
“Well,” he muttered, setting the glass down, “I suppose it’s a good thing one of us finds this partnership amusing.”
Orion grinned. “Give it time. You might surprise yourself.”
Draco glanced at Orion over the rim of his glass, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was more than just a skilled Auror. He was a mystery—and whether Draco liked it or not, he found himself wanting to solve it.
“I doubt it, but if it helps you sleep at night. Ill let you entertain that idea” Draco huffed.