Christmas had once been a happy time for Draco, but he saw and felt very little happiness when he was back in Britain, wishing he could just have stayed with Charlie in Romania. He'd been too new though, too young and inexperienced to stay at the reserve over the breaks.
So Draco was in the Manor, with his mother, the Parkinsons, the Zabinis, and the Greengrasses. There weren't many of the proud purebloods left, so they stuck together.

"So how is everything going in Romania? We never see you anymore, so it's only to assume you've got a girl over there," Draco knew Blaise didn't mean anything with it, but none of them knew of Charlie, and none of them would. In the pureblood world, being gay wasn't an option. If you as a man liked a man, you just stopped doing so, married a girl and got children. You never mentioned that you liked boys, to anyone.

"It's just busy over there, dragons are a tedious business after all, and their magnificence is distracting," he smiled at Blaise by then, because he was still Draco Malfoy, and he could act like nothing was wrong.

As the night proceeded, they drank, and often times, the reserve, or Draco's (what they believed to be missing) love life came up, but Draco dismissed it with smiles and talks of dragons. It might have shamed him had Charlie been there, but he was in Romania, so no matter how much Draco got to drink, he never mentioned Charlie. It only added to his feeling of pretence, that they were all just trying too hard to make it a nice Christmas, where none of them really wanted to be here.

Draco had laid down in bed, and as he closed his eyes, he could feel how truly drunk he was. The world seemed to spin, even when he couldn't see it, and his thoughts seemed to fly in every direction possible rather than staying collected like he was used to having them.
He wondered how he'd not become more used to drinking after his years in Romania, and years of drinking with dragontamers, but he supposed he was just a lightweight in the end. It also made sense though. He was almost a head shorter than Charlie, and much smaller—though muscular by now—so he shouldn't be able to take as much as him.

His train of thoughts was disturbed as the door to his room opened and mad giggling began before being shushed to silence. His eyes opened immediately, and from the weak light from the torches in the hallway, he could see Daphne stand in his doorway, leaning heavily on the doorknob that she seemed to be holding as if her life depended on it. As she turned her head and looked at the bed, she also closed the door, even as she said, "Oops, this isn't my room. Sorry Drake, it's been so long since I've been here, your mother said I could sleep here". She took three short steps into the room, and Draco was almost worried that she'd fall, however, she merely giggled again.

"She probably said the second room on the right," he said, having talked to his mother about which rooms they should give to their friends—which rooms they actually used by now. He hadn't wanted anyone in the hallway he had to sleep in, but his mother had insisted, and he knew it was because she hoped he and Daphne would get together.

"This is the second room," she said in a giddy though still matter-of-factly tone as she walked further into the room, causing Draco to sit up in bed, though he still wouldn't be able to catch her if she fell.

"On the left," he commented dryly, though the smirk that spread across her face made him smile slightly as well. She made a slight "oh," and let herself fall onto the bed, as gracefully as she could in her state he reckoned.

She looked at him for some time, where he'd pushed himself up against the headboard, awkwardly aware of how little clothes he was wearing. "Is it really true that you don't have anyone? I mean, it's you…how can you not?" She finally asked, curiousity shining in her eyes, though she couldn't really seem to focus.

"You're drunk Daphne. Lie down," he told her with a shake of his head, gently helping her to lie down beside him, feeling a bit more at ease now where he was sure she wasn't going to fall off the bed all of a sudden.

She seemed to ignore his words completely, but happily complied as he made her lie down. As she rolled onto her side so she could look at him with that same smirk as before, she said, "Is It the first time you invite a woman into your bed?"

He rolled his eyes at her as he pulled himself down as well, somewhat glad to cover himself up. "No," he replied with an amused smile, though he tried to sound cold. It wasn't a lie either, he'd been with girls before, it just gave him so little compared to when he was with Charlie—though it'd always been better for him when he was drunk.

"Well, it's definitely not the first time I've wished you'd invite me," she said with yet another giddy chuckle that made his drunk brain chuckle with her. He wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue—the alcohol drawing out the liquid, before he caressed her cheek in a brotherly manner.

"As said, you're drunk," he told her with a small shake of his head, correcting his position so he lay more comfortably, slightly turned away from her. However, as he closed his eyes, he felt her hand on his arm, sliding up to his shoulder before running through his hair.

"So? It's not my first time, it's not your first time. You don't have anyone and my fiancé is in prison, not that I care," she told him, her hand back on his shoulder to push him onto his back, before she slid on top of him, her dress on her thighs with all the fabric behind her. She was looking down at him, and suddenly seemed to be a lot more sober than he felt.

"Daphne," it was supposed to come out as an objection of what she was doing—he might lie about not having anyone, but just because he didn't have anyone, didn't mean he'd sleep with her—but she rolled her hips in the same second and it came out as a moan instead. Merlin he hated his body when he was drunk. Every touch felt like fire going over his skin and he couldn't control himself in any way.

"Mhmm?" She continued to grind her hips against his, taking his hands and placing them over the zipper in her dress which he opened as his teeth dug into his lip to keep in another moan. How much had he had to drink? It was hard to remember since the elves just filled all glasses at once, even though some of them weren't empty. It was more than good was though.

As he zipped her dress open completely, she slid off of his hips again, letting the dress fall to the floor to reveal a body just as curved without the corset dress as with it on. He shook his head, this wasn't supposed to happen, and he shouldn't let it happen. He could feel his member press against his boxers, and he knew that if he should have a chance of thinking just a bit straight, he'd have to keep her off of him until he'd calmed down. He might still be drunk then, but it was better than wanting her like this.

"You're drunk, and so am I," why couldn't he find a better reason? It bought him some time though, and he sat up, with his head in his hands and his legs over the edge of the bed. He didn't breathe, the blood carried air, and if he didn't breathe, his head would need all the air it could get. Right?

"Just lie down and enjoy it," she said with a small chuckle, and as she pushed him down by the shoulders, he fell onto the bed and, was forced to take in a gasp of air, rendering his head useless when she pulled down his boxers.

He said it again, "you're drunk," feeling pathetic that he couldn't find any other thing to say to her, that he was too ashamed to give any other excuse to stop. She ignored him though, so soon, he couldn't concentrate enough to find any other excuse, to push her away. His hands grabbed the sheets and he tossed his head back. When he closed his eyes, the guild made him imagine Charlie, and he could almost imagine it was Charlie on the floor. However, his failed attempts only made his anger rise, and as his brain now had three very distracting factors, he pulled her onto the bed, too close to the edge to stop her.

"When were you planning on telling me?!" The door slammed into the wall behind it, and Draco looked up from his paper, unfazed by Charlie's anger. The man had red cheeks, had clearly been running over here, and it also seemed he'd left in the middle of an assignment. Sweat was running down his forehead, he was covered in soot and dirt, and he was breathing heavily, not that it was a sight too uncommon for Draco.

"Planning on telling you what?" He asked, though he knew that only a few things could get Charlie in this mood, and lately, Draco had only done one of those things. There was no way for Charlie to know though, especially not hearing about it with the other dragontamers. Charlie and him were the only ones who had family back in Britain.

"Don't play fucking innocent Draco. You know, my family hated me for giving you a second chance, but I didn't listen. The least you could do was not betray me!" He walked further into the room, and as Draco brought his tall, lean body up in a standing position, he noticed that it was raining outside, so maybe it wasn't sweat trickling down Charlie's face. (When Draco thought about it, some of the water streaks also seemed to come directly from Charlie's red eyes. Charlie never cried).

"Oh, so now I'm suddenly indebted to you because you are with me when no one else were. Well, you can stop pitying me, as you have apparently found out, there are others," Draco's voice was cool, and he stood, still looking unfazed, though he was anxious. When Charlie was angry, there was no mercy, and Draco hadn't just angered him, he had betrayed him, betrayed his trust, and he was acting like it didn't matter.

"You know that's not what I meant so stop making this about me!" Charlie growled, now so close to Draco that the blonde could smell the burnt clothes, but also feel the hot breath on his skin, and count every freckle on Charlie's face. The comment made him laugh though, and he wondered how he suddenly turned back into Draco Lucius Malfoy, rather than the new man Charlie had showed him how to be.

"Well you're the one with the problem, so this is about you," he said with a small shrug, and he could have hit himself, but he'd already closed himself up, made sure nothing could get to him. His father taught him how to build the wall, and Draco never learned how to tear it down without Charlie, who was now tensing up in his entire body.

"A problem?" Charlie barked out a laugh as his lips curled into a face of disgust. For a moment, Draco was afraid that Charlie would hit him, but Charlie wasn't his father, Charlie wasn't violent. Angry, short-tempered, loud, scary at times, but not violent. " Yeah, you bet I have a problem with my boyfriend running home to Britain and shagging some random girl. My gay boyfriend that is."

"I'm not gay!" The comment was out of Draco's mouth already before Charlie had finished his sentence, and in his mind, he wondered whether it was true. Was he really gay? No, purebloods weren't gay. But Draco liked sex with Charlie. He liked Charlie, regardless of the sex. He found men attractive. But you've slept with more women than men. He shook his head ever so slightly to make the thoughts stop. He'd said it, so there was no taking it back.

"Stop denying who you are Draco, I honestly thought we'd been over this before," Charlie seemed frustrated, but he also gave up, Draco could see it in his eyes, a spark that died out as Charlie uttered those words, as he realised that Draco the Dragontamer wasn't a new Draco, it was just yet another role he could play, but deep down, there was always Draco Lucius Malfoy, the copy of the father.

Draco's anger flared at this as well though, and even though he was shorter than Charlie, he felt like he could tower over him now. "No! You went over this and agreed with yourself that I don't have to feel ashamed of being gay, but you can't change something I've believed my entire life just like that!" Draco was a pureblood, and he was raised by purebloods, proud purebloods, prejudices purebloods. So being gay wasn't something you were, it wasn't even a choice you had. He was a straight man, like any other man with respect for himself would be, and no matter how many times Charlie told him that it was normal, no matter how much Draco loved Charlie, it wasn't because Draco was gay, he simply couldn't be.

"Don't you dare say I didn't change you. Don't you dare say all those times you said you loved me wasn't real, that all the times we had sex, you felt ashamed!" A part of him, Draco, wanted to shake his head, and take it back, and hug Charlie, and apologise to him, and tell him that he wasn't ashamed of Charlie, but he didn't. His lips curled into a sneer instead, and he stepped back from Charlie with confident steps.

"I'm not going to say it, but were you really ever fooled Charlie. I may not be a Gryffindor, but you saw how far love brought me with my parents, would I be able to cheat on you if I truly loved you all along?" He screamed internally, clawed at the walls that kept him trapped inside this monster. This creature he'd created to protect himself from his father's wrath, to live up to his expectations, to be who he needed to be. The walls were thick though, and he couldn't get through them, so he watched himself as Charlie's eyes grew redder yet, new tears making it onto his cheeks.

There was a flare inside Charlie's eyes, one Draco had never seen before but which looked like the whole world on fire. "Get out. Get out of my house, get out of Romania, get out of my life!" His voice was so calm that it frightened Draco. Charlie wasn't supposed to be composed when he was angry, that was what Draco did. Charlie yelled and screamed, and balled his hands into fists, and cursed and swore, but he didn't close off like this. This was all so wrong. This was all Draco's fault. "I don't believe you, but I can't do this, I'm not cold like you, able to bottle up everything. I don't want to ever see you again".

AN:

It will continue in second chapter, don't worry, so stay tuned for that to be written ;)