Fuck

—

No more than a week later Theo was back at Draco's house. Lounging, sipping on his coffee that was sure to be tainted by whiskey, petting scotch. “I’m telling you, she’s into you—“

“—you literally don’t even know her.” Draco argued back, trying to read his book without Theo’s blatant interruptions. “And I have things to do, so you should be going on your merry little way anytime now.”

“I’m not going anywhere till you make a bloody move. Stop acting like you’re in grade eight, act like an adult, Draco.” Theo declared stubbornly.

Draco continued to read his book on American Innovative Inventions in the Magical Society.

Still he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Theo was right. He’d been right before. Even if Draco hated giving him that much credit, the guy knew a thing or two about a thing or two.

But he didn’t care much for letting him know that.

So, he waited it out.

It was the first week of April already and Draco sat at home, alone for once, scotch staring up at him with his big brown eyes. Whinging for Draco to take him out. He cursed exasperatedly and slapped his hands on his knees, trying to excite the poor old git. part of him wanted to be lazy, to let him just go in the back garden, but Lena was down the street. It was a Sunday, it’d been weeks since he’d spoken to her about her big move, surely she’d done it by then.

He grabbed a spare cauldron and opened the door for Scotch and himself. Letting his furry friend lead the way.

She lived at the opposite end of hogsmeade, though it was only a short walk from him. The village was quite small, and muggle-less, and wet. But he didn’t mind really, he was sort of excited, even if she wasn’t home.

There stood the storefront of Dervish and Banges, in all its ancient and stoney glory. behind that shop was where Lena lived. Perhaps her home was filled with lilac nicknacks and books stacked as high as the ceiling went. Or maybe she was a minimalist. Or maybe she wasn’t there after all.

“Are you gonna come in or not?” He heard a familiar voice shout from above him.

Draco stood there delirious and stunned. Lena bent over her window sill from the topmost floor of the repair shop. “you’re not in the back, then?”

“Nope, got the whole top floor!” She shouted back, a wicked grin on her face. “I’m special, can’t you tell?”

His laughter filled up the street.

Scotch made his way up the creaky wooden steps perfectly well behind Draco. The staircase went up the back up the building through an even creakier old door. Her footsteps echoed through the tight corridor excitedly.

“Well, hello,” she smirked deviously, holding the aged shop door open. Lena was sporting a pair of ragged overalls and a tattered short sleeve tee shirt. a complete change from he was used to seeing her in. Even her hair was a mess.

“Hello—“ Draco said with a confused, but intrigued smile playing at his lips, accompanied by a fire growing in his belly.

“Not you,” Lena said, throwing her head back with a howl of laughter, “your friend.”

“Oh,” Draco said and shook his head, stepping aside for scotch to be seen. “Lena, meet scotch.”

“Like the liquor?” She mused, stooping to the dogs level. He instantly warmed up to the woman. “Gods, you are a lush! But it’s okay because he’s sweet. And the name fits him.”

“A lush?” Draco shouted after her jokingly as she ran into her home, scotch heavy on her heels. “Fuck off!”

The inside was nothing like what he’d expected.

The room was one big open space. A kitchen to the right, or what could be assumed to be one anyway. There was a dinghy porcelain sink, quite a few cabinets, a large wooden island, and a stove predating the 1900’s, followed by a fire pit as per most wizarding households. A living room to the left, or so he thought? With a singular red leather couch and a massive coffee table littered with a myriad of books. Then straight ahead sat a lonesome bed flat on the wooden ground. Many blankets and pillows cluttered the bed, a nightstand occupied by more books, and a knit tapestry beside it. There were more windows in her tiny studio than in his entire house.

But it felt warmer somehow.

“So,” she breathed in, clasping her hands together, “what’dya think?”

“It’s…”

“An absolute shithole, I know—“

“No, no, not at all. It’s nice. It’s cozy. There’s plenty of natural light.”

“Good thing I’m not a morning person.” She said laughing heartily. “Well, it’s just for the meantime until I can figure something else out. Maybe London, I’ve always wanted to live there. Or maybe I’ll say screw it and go to Glasgow—“

“What and have to adapt to that awful accent?”

“I kinda like the accent. It's cute.”

It was his turn to laugh now. And he did. “Merlin, you are American.”

“Yes, Draco, thank you for reminding me every chance you get. So, are you going to just stand there or are you going to help, I’m still unpacking.”

“Still?” He nearly shouted, looking around at all the shit in her already cramped space.

She’d taken the cauldron, thanked him with a grateful smile and gave him a job.

There was an enchanted trunk behind the couch, she had to physically climb into it to dig out more books and belongings. Handing them up to him and going back down until he realized she really was the nicknack girl he’d imagined.

Soon there were shelves, a two seater kitchen table, a massive desk, pictures, paintings in frames, drapes, and clothes.

“Gods, Lena. I really didn’t think you were like this.”

“Like what exactly?” She asked, spinning around with a hand perched on her hip brazenly.

“I didn’t realize you had this much stuff.”

“I’ve been living out of this trunk for over a year, what else did you expect? I’m a fucking nut, Draco, tell me you already knew that, please.”

“You are not a nut.” He said, staring at her with stern, but kind eyes. “You are a bloody genius.”

Her cheeks went a pretty shade of pink as she put picture frames up on every empty space. She bid him to put up the paintings on empty walls, and hang the curtains for her as she finished setting her belongings up.

By the time they both finished he took a step back into reality, not realizing at one point she’d began making him dinner. And whatever it was it smelled delicious.

“You made food?” He asked, stunned.

“You expected to work for free?” She asked cheekily and plopped down onto her couch with a tired release of breath. She patted the space next to her. “Come on, the chili isn’t ready yet and I owe you a drink, too, probably.”

“Chili?”

“Oh that’s right,” she said with an exhausted look on her face, “you’re British. Well, you’re in luck because I needed some good old midwestern comfort food. Chili is a stew, beans, veggies, meat, usually a tomato base. It’s easy.”

“How’d you do all of that and this at once?”

“A woman never reveals her secrets.” She said with a wink. With a blink of an eye she was gone, grabbing two mismatched glasses and an already half drank bottle of wine.

“And you had time to celebrate?”

“It’s been a long week, alright?” She poured the wine by hand into a tall and thin glass for him, and a mug for herself. “And don't even think about judging my glassware.”

“I would never.” He beamed, clinking the glass against hers, “cheers, love.”

Draco had to cringe internally at his last word. He’d grown too comfortable with her, clearly. and it was partly nice, but mostly embarrassing.

It wasn’t his fault though, it was hers. How could she blame him? She was stunning, even when she was a mess, intriguing even though she was a mystery, how could he not say that or feel the way he felt?

All his life he was raised around order and class and all the bullshit tucked neatly away; hidden from the eyes view. She was like a breath of fresh air to him. A step back into reality. A way to understand that, not everything has to do with hiding your secrets and covering up your shit and making everything seem so perfect.

And yet, she was still perfect. With the mess. With the clutter. With everything.

Draco tried to close off his mind. To stop thinking about her, he got up and looked around at the finished product of her studio. All the decorations and trophies, books and journals, pens, quills, ink pots, muggle inventions and photographs. There was one picture he stopped at.

It was her, in a silky white gown with her hair in an elegant bun, a bouquet in her hands. The photo was in black and white and she was smiling real big at whoever had taken it.

“What’s this from?” He asked softly.

“My wedding day.”

He turned back to her, a look of pure nostalgia on her face. Obvious to even scotch who let out a soft whine. “Do you miss him?” He asked in a low voice.

“I miss the happy memories, the good times. I miss our friends. But I don’t miss him. Not anymore.”

“Then why keep this up?”

“As a reminder.” She said, joining him. “Of how far I’ve come without him. And I look damn good in that dress.”

He stayed silent for just a moment and before he knew it he said, “you really do.”

Lena elbowed him playfully and motioned for him to sit back down. “Come on, food’s ready.”

They sat together in silence for a moment, eating her chili, she’d even given a little to scotch. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

“Well, when my mother stopped having the sitter come around she taught me how to cook for myself. It’s not all that hard, you know.”

“I do know,” Draco said, hiding a smirk behind his bowl. “I have a garden.”

“You?” She shrieked, raising her eyebrows high. “Well, I guess that makes sense. What do you make?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” He pleaded with her. She stuck her pinky out to him and something inside of him squirmed. He took it and squeezed it tight. The feeling of their skin connecting sent shivers down his spine, but he soldiered on. “I bake mostly. Pastries and breads. Sweets and whatnot.”

“What do you eat?”

“Well, up until recently, my mother would bring me things. Now I just go down and get food from Aberforth.”

“Luckily for you, I don’t bake. So, this works out perfectly.” She was smiling into her bowl, but he could tell she was going crazy inside. It wasn’t just the chili supplying the heat in that cramped room.

“So, what, you’re going to do all the cooking and I’m going to give you sweets in return?”

“That sounds alright with me.”

They finished their food and sat still with full bellies and closed eyes, too tired and stuffy to make a move.

“Hey Draco?” She mumbled half asleep from her spot on the couch.

“Hmm?” He hummed, tossing his head back ever so slightly, realizing then and only then it was her thighs his head was on.

“Thank you.”