when draco awoke, he remembered what he could of the night previous. there was the wondrous mechanical voice, pulsing together with the tangerine beat. the feel of bodies grinding in painful desperation, longing for resolution. he sat up with a groan and took a look around the dumpy little flat; examining the boy lying beside him in the bed. his head was throbbing as though he'd done more than just have a few drinks the night previous.
he realized sourly that he *had* done a lot more.
it wasn't so bad though, he maintained, as he prodded his companion gingerly in the back with one finger. was he awake? was he *alive*? the boy stirred and turned over, his messy, dark hair fanning out across the pillow. draco couldn't see a great deal of his face, and his glasses had slipped down the bridge of the nose, but he looked marvelously pale in the morning light.
draco sighed. this one was so pretty.. (which was lucky, because sometimes his one night stands weren't), and so much like *him*. he'd been very shy and sweet the night before, confessing coyly that he was, in fact, a virgin and had never brought anyone home with him before.
draco smiled. he'd had a good night with this one. a great night, actually
he climbed over the sleeping harry-lookalike and pulled on his shorts, searching the room for his bag. if he'd had more time he might've stayed around for breakfast and a morning shag, but there was no time to play today.
he found his bag beneath the coffee table, and pulled out a clean set of black wizarding robes.
as he dressed, he consciously persuaded himself not to stay. nothing would come of it, of staying with this muggle..
and really, there had been so many like him.. what was one less? he reasoned all this thoughtfully, hopping around the living room as he tugged on his robes. none of it was real anyway, those one night love affairs with boys and young men that all looked like.. him. each time it was a new face, a new body, a new substitution that sated draco for a time.
the sleeping boy's watch beeped and he crossed the room to peer at the little glowing numbers. draco recalled that the boy had called it digital, whatever that was. it wasn't important.
he had to get going.
even if he had had the time, he wouldn't have gone home.
home wasn't really a place where draco liked to spend a lot of his time. fifth year previous, his father had been sent to azkaban. the jury had charged lucius with nearly every crime a wizard could commit, and the malfoy name once again graced the pages of wizarding print, finding itself in the middle of rude headlines alongside words like 'death eater', 'you-know-who', 'murderer,' and 'dead'.
his mum, (who could no longer deny her husband's terrible crimes because they'd all been proven true), made the statement to the press that she was a 'good, decent witch' so many times that she began to take it to heart, and she would tell herself this brokenheartedly from time time, asking draco didn't he agree darling that they really were good people, even if your father wasn't..
he felt sluggish as he laced up his boots and made his way through the warm building out into the heady london streets. daybreak was on the fringes of it's end and summer had long past it's last proper day. it seemed to draco that no one wanted to let it slip away, but maybe it was just him...
he was already speeding away under london on a train when the harry look-alike awoke, and finding that his first lover had gone, pulled his knees to his naked chest and lit a cigarette.
by the time draco got to kings cross, he was beginning to feel the full affects of his hangover. he let himself lean against the wall, trying to quell the nauseous sway that had come over him. when he was certain he wasn't going to vomit, he let himself slip through the barrier, onto platform nine and three quarters.
sunshine poured through high windows, bathing students and parents and family pets alike in brilliant morning glory. draco had no tolerance for their smiles, their warmth and hugs and tearful farewells.
shoving his way through the crowd with his shoulders, he kept his head down, pressing his face into his coatlike cloak so he wouldn't have to smell their stink.
when he settled into his own private carriage he was still blessedly alone, crabbe and goyle not having thought to come and find him yet. he curled up under his coat and hid his face behind it. it smelled good, like last night and a private life that felt very very far away as the train steamed and began to chug it's way out of the station.
someone entered the carriage and sat down beside him, quiet and light like air. he heard the shift of robes, the faint creak as they moved to be near to him.
"you left me this morning."
the words jarred draco into consciousness, and he was sucked back up into life, back from beyond the fine fringes of sleep. he uncovered his face and looked at the boy beside him, skinny, insecure and bespeckled.
it was harry.
he realized sourly that he *had* done a lot more.
it wasn't so bad though, he maintained, as he prodded his companion gingerly in the back with one finger. was he awake? was he *alive*? the boy stirred and turned over, his messy, dark hair fanning out across the pillow. draco couldn't see a great deal of his face, and his glasses had slipped down the bridge of the nose, but he looked marvelously pale in the morning light.
draco sighed. this one was so pretty.. (which was lucky, because sometimes his one night stands weren't), and so much like *him*. he'd been very shy and sweet the night before, confessing coyly that he was, in fact, a virgin and had never brought anyone home with him before.
draco smiled. he'd had a good night with this one. a great night, actually
he climbed over the sleeping harry-lookalike and pulled on his shorts, searching the room for his bag. if he'd had more time he might've stayed around for breakfast and a morning shag, but there was no time to play today.
he found his bag beneath the coffee table, and pulled out a clean set of black wizarding robes.
as he dressed, he consciously persuaded himself not to stay. nothing would come of it, of staying with this muggle..
and really, there had been so many like him.. what was one less? he reasoned all this thoughtfully, hopping around the living room as he tugged on his robes. none of it was real anyway, those one night love affairs with boys and young men that all looked like.. him. each time it was a new face, a new body, a new substitution that sated draco for a time.
the sleeping boy's watch beeped and he crossed the room to peer at the little glowing numbers. draco recalled that the boy had called it digital, whatever that was. it wasn't important.
he had to get going.
even if he had had the time, he wouldn't have gone home.
home wasn't really a place where draco liked to spend a lot of his time. fifth year previous, his father had been sent to azkaban. the jury had charged lucius with nearly every crime a wizard could commit, and the malfoy name once again graced the pages of wizarding print, finding itself in the middle of rude headlines alongside words like 'death eater', 'you-know-who', 'murderer,' and 'dead'.
his mum, (who could no longer deny her husband's terrible crimes because they'd all been proven true), made the statement to the press that she was a 'good, decent witch' so many times that she began to take it to heart, and she would tell herself this brokenheartedly from time time, asking draco didn't he agree darling that they really were good people, even if your father wasn't..
he felt sluggish as he laced up his boots and made his way through the warm building out into the heady london streets. daybreak was on the fringes of it's end and summer had long past it's last proper day. it seemed to draco that no one wanted to let it slip away, but maybe it was just him...
he was already speeding away under london on a train when the harry look-alike awoke, and finding that his first lover had gone, pulled his knees to his naked chest and lit a cigarette.
by the time draco got to kings cross, he was beginning to feel the full affects of his hangover. he let himself lean against the wall, trying to quell the nauseous sway that had come over him. when he was certain he wasn't going to vomit, he let himself slip through the barrier, onto platform nine and three quarters.
sunshine poured through high windows, bathing students and parents and family pets alike in brilliant morning glory. draco had no tolerance for their smiles, their warmth and hugs and tearful farewells.
shoving his way through the crowd with his shoulders, he kept his head down, pressing his face into his coatlike cloak so he wouldn't have to smell their stink.
when he settled into his own private carriage he was still blessedly alone, crabbe and goyle not having thought to come and find him yet. he curled up under his coat and hid his face behind it. it smelled good, like last night and a private life that felt very very far away as the train steamed and began to chug it's way out of the station.
someone entered the carriage and sat down beside him, quiet and light like air. he heard the shift of robes, the faint creak as they moved to be near to him.
"you left me this morning."
the words jarred draco into consciousness, and he was sucked back up into life, back from beyond the fine fringes of sleep. he uncovered his face and looked at the boy beside him, skinny, insecure and bespeckled.
it was harry.