Fuck

—

The next month he spent saying pleasantries in passing, waving across the hall to one another, exchanging polite smiles. It began to be easier for him to push his feelings deep down. Or so he thought.

It always happened at night.

He knocked on her door frame softly, “you never leave this place do you?”

“You don’t live here, too?” She asked mindlessly and rustled through miles of scrolls topping her desk.

He snapped his fingers and two empty glasses appeared. Draco poured the firewhiskey bottle seated on her cluttered desk. Took a seat and stared at her apprehensively. “You do?”

“Well, where else would I go?”

“Maybe Hogsmeade…?”

“I always stay on campus. Helps me dive completely into my position.” She said nonchalantly, not even having touched her firewhiskey. “Besides, Hogsmeade is all booked up for now.”

“I beg to differ. There are plenty of homes—“

“Shacks, hovels, and closets.”

He laughed wholeheartedly, “you’re beginning to sound like the rest of the pretentious asshole’s out there. My mother has said one thing since I moved closer to the school: ‘this will not do’. Which in my mother’s defense, it didn’t ‘do’ for me either.”

“And what’d you do?”

“Just some tender love and care,” he mused. “And an entire interior change.”

“What and now you garden?” She said laughing, looking up at him briefly before plunging right back into her work.

Draco blushed. “There’s a rose bush or two lying around.”

“A rose bush?”

“I’m just saying if you think that’s all that hogsmeade has, you’re wrong.”

She tsk’d at him and things went quiet, until, “so, what’s new with the whole betrothal ordeal.”

“Wow,” he said laughing “you really don’t hold back, huh? Well, I’ve been informed that Astoria and I are expected to meet up this upcoming holiday before our engagement party.”

“Expected?”

“Precisely.” He groaned. “And my mother doesn’t fuss around this sort of thing. So, we’ve got tea scheduled the day I go back for break, I’m sure mother planned that purposely intending on us spending much more of the holiday together but—“

“—you’re not finished playing your game yet?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, have you ever thought that maybe you’re just fighting this because your parents want it to happen?” She asked gently, “like with me, I fought so hard for my relationship, or whatever I was fighting for. And then it dawned on me when I was back in Boston that I wasn’t fighting for myself anymore, I was fighting the flow of things.”

“Flow of things?”

“life.” She said casually, looking up at him from her desk. And even then it drove him crazy. it was always the moments he least expected. “Your parents want things for you, they create standards and expectations for us before we’re even out of the womb, y’know. Then once we develop opinions and hopes and dreams of our own shit hits the fan. They say they want one thing, we say the opposite. It’s this big existential tug-of-war.”

“Well, they certainly didn’t teach us about that here when I was a child.”

“Common sense.”

“That’s what that is?” He mused with a sad smirk, “then, in that case, yes.”

“I can tell.” She took a swig from her drink. “So, get this, when I was a kid my family absolutely hated Thomas. My grandfather, my mother, hell even my nanny—“

“—you had a nanny?”

“My mother was a working woman. She didn’t have time for herself let alone me, even when I was home.” She went on, crossing her arms across her chest. In a way that wasn’t meant to be attractive, but ended up being attractive. “My point is, I got some twisted kick out of pissing them off. Going against the flow. All I’m saying is: how do you know you don’t like the girl?”

He thought for a moment. And then that warm fall day popped into his mind, along with a familiar sundress and lilac hat. The way her skin glistened burnt as a glorious memory in his mind. Or how her hair blew in the wind so effortlessly. Or perhaps it was her eyes. Those perfect fucking eyes. “I don’t. I’m positive.”

—

The next week flew by in a glimpse. Soon he was packing a bag at home, since he’d left it til the absolute last second. His dog, whom he named scotch as an ode to his favorite pastime drink, sat on the foot of his bed gazing up at him. Scotch was a basset hound, he looked old, but he was no older than five years old. In a way they complimented each other. Draco looked young, but felt too old inside.

There was a knock on his front door, and after he nearly fell down the steps trying to reach it, he finally came face to face with Theo.

“What the hell are you doing with this place?” Theodore Nott bickered as he made his way through the dilapidated farmhouse that was more like a lived-in barn than anything. “You said the remodel would only last a month. tops. Remember that?”

“Fuck off, yeah?” Draco cursed at him as he resumed his packing.

“You’ve yet to tap into your gay best friend potential, literally standing right in front of you. For fuck sake I’m an inventor. I’m brilliant with charms and organization. You should see our vault—“

“—Theo!” he snapped, ashamed of himself for snapping like that, “cut the shit, I’m on a tight schedule.”

“Yeah to meet with tori?” He mocked, lounging on Draco's bed, instantly scotch snuck right up to him. A ball of fury delight.

“Yes, to meet with astoria.”

“Thank fuck my parents are dead or else they’d have a field day with my prospects.”

“Bloody hell,” Draco groaned, glaring at his best friend, “you morbid tosser, you can’t just say that shit.”

“You would, too, if they were yours.”

“I’m not quite sure about that one, Theo,” he muttered, resuming his packing. “I don’t get why I’m such a mess this week, it’s not like we haven’t met before—“

“You met when you were kids, now she’s a hot healer and you’re you. It’s gonna cause some sort of stress.”

Draco knew it wasn’t that. he’d seen Astoria at last year’s annual New Years eve party. She was a quiet, nice girl. Who always wore the outfit her mother or sister wanted her to wear, always spoke so politely and bland, always did what was expected of her. Astoria was pretty, but not in the sense that it was hard to look away. She was beautiful in a simple sense, like everyone knew she was, but nobody really paid any attention to her. She wasn’t Lena.

“Draco!” Theo shouted, clapping his hands together, “fuck, what’s got you so trapped in your head?”

When Draco didn’t respond Theo got an idea in that twisted little brain of his, and he was fucking right, “it’s not astoria, is it?”

Draco rolled his eyes and flicked him off. Theo didn’t know the first thing about relationships, the man was like a flea; hopping from one unfortunate man to the next, never staying for longer than a night or two. “I really need to get this finished, Theo.”

A pillow was thrown at his face. Draco groaned frustratingly, “don’t make me ready your thoughts, I will!” Theo shouted, scotch barked, another pillow was tossed.

“Fucking hell!” Draco groaned and held his head between both hands, “yes, alright? Yes, it’s not about astoria. Work is just—“

“—that girl! Gods, what’s her name? Lea, Louise—“

“—Lena.”

Theo’s eyes practically fell out of his skull. His jaw nearly to the floor. “The-the new girl! I fucking knew it, you’re awful at hiding things, you realize, right? You should go out with her before the wedding, just to see—“

“—pray-tell, why would I do that? To taunt myself, to play a game that simply won’t fucking work?”

“Who bloody well cares?” Theo shouted. “And don’t you dare say anything about your mother. You’re a grown man, Draco. You live on your own. You work. You’ve got a damned dog! At some point you’re going to have to stop living life for your mother and start living it for you.”