Chapter 17
The fire was warm against Draco’s wet feet. He’d long since peeled off his ruined shoes and dipped his swollen feet in the fountain to sooth them. The shoes lay next to him, on top of the soiled couture vest and now grubby ruff. Draco was left in his scarlet blouse and trousers. The blouse opened indecently wide at the neck, having been designed to be held down by the vest instead of buttons. The gold bangle necklace still shined brilliantly, but instead of distracting, it seemed to call attention to all of Draco’s exposed skin. It was chilly in the wee hours of early spring, but Draco was too tired to get up and secure one of the cozy blankets he’d begun seeing provided to keep guests warm.
“How is it you’re revealing more now than when we actually had sex?” said the dandelion’s voice before he came into view. The king climbed over the log Draco lounged against to sit next to the younger man. He had just such a cozy blanket with him.
Draco drank more from the rose shaped glass filled with wine, staring at the king over its rim. Draco had found a seat on the outskirts and the king must have been looking to find him. He ignored the king’s question and how it made something warm in his belly flip. He said instead, “I see you couldn’t hack it in the maze,” with a nod to the sign the king wore around his neck. The price for the troll’s assistance. It said, “Lettuce out!”
The king tsked and tried to deny it. “You two were blockading us,” he accused.
Draco pursed his lips and strived for his most haughty expression. “Don’t blame others when you’re not up to the task.”
The king leaned in close to Draco, so close his nose brushed through Draco’s hair. “I’m up for anything,” he countered.
Hands shoved the two men apart, and then the troll himself was climbing over the log to sit in the too narrow space between them. He sat anyway, forcing both of the other men to scoot over to make room. The troll ruffled the hair the king was just touching, mussing further the dyed red curls Draco had used for that evening’s disguise. He slung an arm around Draco as he slurred, “My Helius! My Sol! Castor to my Pollux! You’re far too good for this bumpkin.” he gestured at the dandelion.
“Hey!” the king said, affronted.
Both the troll and Draco ignored the outburst. Draco chose instead to cuddle up against the troll, who was warm and generous with friendly affection. “Too good for weeds, most definitely,” he agreed. The troll laughed and gulped at his own flower goblet, spilling wine over his mossy chest as he did so.
The king scowled at them both.
“Ooooh, he’s putting on his scary face,” the troll taunted, sending Draco into giggles. The troll tried to get serious and faux whispered to Draco. “Don’t let him fool you, he’s a horrible flirt. He’s broken the hearts of too many men to count.”
The king elbowed the troll hard enough it jostled Draco next to him. “Cut it out,” he grumbled.
The troll shook his head in an exaggerated motion. “I will not. You’re a rake, and I will not have you corrupting my new friend here.” Then to Draco he added, “Don’t be one of his pretty boys. There’s more to you than that.”
Draco’s face blushed red. The troll was overly sincere in his inebriation.
“Oh, look over there!” Draco said as a distraction. He waved at the moss fairy who was now dancing in the fountain. She’d turned up rescued by the troll, but must have his special favor because he didn’t make her wear a sign in shame. “Ask to dance with her,” Draco encouraged. The troll sputtered a bit, looking uncertain for the first time since Draco discovered him stirring up mischief. “No one likes a coward. Get going, troll!” And the troll got, recovering his bravado at some point between Draco’s log and the fountain. Draco watched with a soft smile as the troll jumped into the fountain.
“I’m not really like that,” the dandelion said, drawing Draco’s attention back. Draco met hooded green eyes that were gazing at him intently, once again conjuring warm feelings in Draco’s body. Draco noticed small details, such as the king’s sleeves being rolled up to display muscle forearms, and the messy black hair that couldn’t get much worse even if Draco fisted his hand through it during sex.
Draco swallowed a suddenly dry throat before trying for his own bravado. “So what if you are?”
The older man rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really not. He’s just saying that because he’s upset with me.”
“Oh? So you’re not the sort of man who seduces someone he just met until they’re shagging on top of a desk in a stranger’s office?” Draco asked jauntily.
All bashfulness was gone, replaced by the king’s smug smile. “So you are the wolf,” he declared, catching Draco out.
Draco tried not to flinch as he realized his mistake. “So what if I am?” he challenged.
The king shifted closer to Draco until Draco could feel the king’s heat along his body. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He held the wolf pendant up in front of Draco. “You lost this,” he said. Once again Draco could feel his breath on his ear. Draco reached for the pendant, but the king pulled it out of reach. “Uh uh, not so fast.”
“I admitted to it, now give the pendant back,” Draco huffed.
The king shook his head. “I want to deliver it to its rightful owner. Tell me at whose house I should drop it off at tomorrow?”
Draco groaned in frustration, sinking further back in his seat. “See there,” he gestured at the pendant as it swung round, revealing the back of the wolf’s head. There was a small insignia that could just be made out. “That’s the lestrange family emblem.”
The king pulled the pendant closer to stare at the back of it. He peered at the small etching that was admittedly worn from age and hard to read. “I suppose that could be it. But the Lestrange family is dead.”
Draco snorted. “So is the Couch family, but their manor lives on without them.” He stared knowingly at the king, who must know who the former owners were of the property currently hosting the ball they were at. Then Draco shrugged and lightened his tone. “I imagine some enterprising youth found their way into an old attic and discovered the babble. Probably sold it for quick coin. Truly it belongs nowhere, anymore. Keep it if you like it so much.”
The king tutted again, this time at Draco’s rejection of his game, but he also pocketed the pendant. The king turned his attention back to Draco and pouted a little. “Why’d you lie before? I thought we had fun, last equinox. I was hoping we’d run into each other afterwards.”
The memory of King Harry scowling at Draco on his first visit to Grimmauld Place after the last ball popped to the front of Draco’s mind. All evening Draco had played at elitism, harnessing his well honed pride, but at the king’s words he could only frown at his hands and avoid the king’s gaze. “I rarely engage with the court.”
“Too busy skulking around in attics for ancient artifacts?” the king quipped. He was joking, but the reality of it hit Draco like a hammer. The king thought it funny anyone might do that. He didn’t think it a worthwhile endeavor for anyone. How he would sneer if he caught Draco in the act.
“How did you upset the troll?” Draco asked, eager to talk about anything else. Better yet, he should get up and leave, barefoot and cold.
The king sucked a breath in through his teeth. The question had the desired effect of the king pulling slightly away to collect his thoughts, giving Draco room to breath. “It’s a family thing. There was a disagreement with one of his brothers.”
One glance at the king’s sheepish expression was all Draco needed to put the pieces together. “The one with the horses?” he asked.
The king grimaced. “He told you about that?”
Draco shrugged. Then, because he was feeling petty, “He told me he could set me up with his brother, who’d take me on quite the ride.” The king’s grimace soured further. “Ah, a bad break up,” Draco posited.
The king was shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. We weren’t together, it wasn't serious. We were just, you know, friendly.” He said it with the defensiveness of someone who’d been justifying himself a lot on the topic.
“Friendly,” Draco affirmed, struggling to smother his grin. He could handle being in this space, with the king flustered and on the defensive. It gave Draco the courage to reach over the king and grab the blanket he’d left still folded beside him. The king tried to grab it back, but Draco out maneuvered him and flicked the blanket open and laid it over his lap. “No, you brought this for me and I’m going to use it. Now come on, you’re going to need to share hotter gossip than that if I’m to stay out here in the cold.”
The king took a shot and used his steamy sex-god eyes on Draco as he flirted, “We could go find a private place inside, keep each other warm?”
Draco swatted at him. “No distractions. Tell me how you went from being ‘friendly’ to breaking some poor bloke’s heart. How did it get so serious in just six months? A fast and furious romance?”
“Weellll,” the king really dragged the syllable out, shuffling a bit and looking off towards other crowds.
Draco narrowed his eyes at the king’s sheepishness. “You don’t seriously mean this went on since before the fall equinox. You shagged me at the fall equinox.” Draco’s eyes widened and he swatted the king again. “Was I your little side piece?”
“No!” The king insisted, too fast and once again with the familiarity of a defense often made.
Draco mouthed the word “wow” before grinning. He glanced over at the troll, who’d escorted Luna to a table lined with thimbles of strong spirits. “He doesn’t even know we fucked, and he’s angry. How many people did you cheat with?”
“It wasn’t cheating! We were never together. We casually hooked up sometimes, but I made it clear it wasn’t going anywhere,” the king insisted.
“Apparently not,” Draco huffed. He snuggled in further under his blanket. “Face it, dandelion, you’re a scoundrel and a rake. The troll was wise to warn me off you.”
The king snuggled down further against the log, returning close to Draco, petulant grumbling, “I am not.” He put on an exaggerated pout and looked to Draco for sympathy. “Haven't you ever been pre judged for something you didn’t deserve?”
Draco hoped it was too dark and the king couldn’t see the color drain from his face. His mind eagerly supplied a plethora of examples. The king grabbing Teddy from him when they’d been playing on the floor. The king sneering at him when Draco worried about what infection he was spreading. The king asking Andromeda if there was anyone else that could possibly be assigned to play nurse for his friends. Suddenly the fire, the blanket, and the king’s warm body beside him couldn’t do close to enough to keep Draco warm.
Still, he tilted his chin up just enough to look down at the other man. “Of course not. I am the picture of virtue and beloved by all.” The mockery didn’t land on the king as he intended. It was far too self deprecating.
Something in the king’s eyes softened at the words. He had the gall to reach out for one of Draco’s hands and stroke it. “I didn’t mean to hit on a sore subject,” he said, almost in apology.
“It’s not,” Draco said, nearly as petulant and defensive as the king had been.
The king pulled his hand closer, holding it gently. “Alright,” he said. His lack of argument made Draco feel worse. How dare he be gentle here and now to the man he hated. Then Draco’s face did feel hot and his eyes stung. He hadn’t shed tears since he was a child, when his father insisted he needed to learn to be a man. Draco didn’t dare be weak now. Somehow Draco pulled himself together, reining in the anguish of every unintended slight from the man holding him.
Draco’s voice was pained with his effort to stay bland. “You wouldn’t like me out in the real world.”
“Why do you think that? Because you’re poor and forage in attics for things to sell?”
Draco squeezed his eyes shut against the king’s efforts to be kind. “What baffles me is you truly have no idea what a condescending prick you are,” he said disdainfully.
“That’s not what-”
Draco’s anger was familiar to him and gave him something to say. “Stop making excuses. I’m not some charity case. Your friends aren’t being unreasonable for wanting you to treat their family with respect. We didn’t even cheat you out of getting through the maze fairly, you just weren’t good enough at it.” Draco paused to heave in a deep breath.
The king was staring at Draco with a bewildered fascination. “No one talks to me like that,” he murmured.
It wasn’t true. Draco talked to him like that constantly, he just didn’t hear it, then. Draco squeezed his eyes closed and collapsed once more, falling off the log completely and lying only on the grass. He stared up into the night, watching the stars twinkle. It was easier to be honest while wearing a mask and talking to the sky. “It doesn’t matter what I say because you don’t know who I am. And it doesn’t matter what you say because you wouldn’t say it to my face.”
The king scooted down further into the grass so he could lie again near Draco. He openly stared at the younger man, trying to categorize every visible feature and place it in his mind. The king eyed the younger man’s sharp jaw, his elegant neck, his strong if narrow chest. He licked his lips as he remembered the feeling of the wolf taking charge of everything. Draco stared upwards, pensive and sad, but the king hadn’t lost hope.
“At the ball, the only world that’s real is what we make for ourselves,” the king murmured. It drew Draco’s attention, and the younger man blinked and turned apprehensively to the king. “I don’t care about what happens tomorrow. I don’t judge tonight by what choices we’d make somewhere else. We’re here now, and I want to make the most of every moment. The most of any moment you’ll give me.” The king watched Draco nibble his lip nervously, and wished he could lean forward and taste the lips, too.
Draco’s heart was pounding. He had come clean and told the king the truth, that Draco wasn’t who he thought he was. The king didn’t care. Of course, it was easy not to care about a hypothetical, that wasn’t the same as not caring if he ever found out the full truth. Only, what did that matter to Draco? Draco wasn’t the liar. Draco didn’t come here to hoodwink anyone. He came to lean into the magic of festivity and imagination.
It was hard to remember magic wasn’t real, when he was surrounded by so many people who made him feel like it just might be.
He looked back at the king, who was eyeing him with a yearning hunger that did things to Draco’s belly and shot goosebumps down his arms for reasons other than cold.
It would be so foolish. It would only lead to heartache. He’d hate himself every time the king glowered at him afterwards and proved that the equinox was only a dream that Draco could never hope to attain.
Draco might hate himself more if he came all this way and didn’t make the most of every moment of it.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, hardly daring to accede aloud.
A roguish smile slowly spread over the king’s face. “Yeah?” he asked.
Draco nodded, dropping the blanket next to his ruined clothes as he rose to his feet. “Yeah,” he said, hardly believing his own agreement.
The king wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist as they walked together towards the hedge leading back into the maze. Butterflies exploded inside Draco with each step. He was all nerves, but couldn’t bear to stop.
“Oy, Helius!” came a shout. Draco glanced over at it and saw the troll jumping to get his attention. “Come back, pretty boy! The party’s here with us.”
The king laughed and made a rude gesture at the troll, but his arm tightened around Draco as if he was afraid Draco would actually change his mind.
Draco didn’t. He didn’t so much as look back at the troll again before speeding up so suddenly that the king lost his grip. Draco grabbed the king’s hand and tugged on it, like the troll had tugged on him. Draco shared his own cheeky grin with the king, then tugged him past the archway and into a maze, charging down pathways that didn’t scare Draco at all.