The last rays of the sun streamed in through the window, bathing Draco's bedroom in warm, golden light. He ought to have left fifteen minutes ago, but found himself, like so often, drawn to the view outside his window. It wasn't particularly striking in itself-merely a dirty London street corner. However, Draco always found himself in awe of the early evening light as it stole over the city below, seeming to bathe the nondescript buildings in mystery and anticipation. It lifted his heart in the same way as flying-which, he reflected bitterly, he hadn't been able to do for years for fear of being seen by Muggles.
Muggles. They were everywhere. Having grown up away from the non-magic population, Draco had never fully appreciated the care with which adult witches and wizards treated their magic-until he was forced to see for himself. He had not performed magic in nearly a week, and he was beginning to feel distinctly ill, as though a part of him were withering away.
Sighing, he picked up his wand from the bedside table, running his fingers over its smooth surface. He longed to use it, but he knew that he could not. Someone might see.
Still, he could not stop himself from pocketing it-until it occurred to him that Xander would want him to leave it here. With a feeling of immense sadness, he gently laid the hawthorn wand back where he'd found it, and departed.
"You're late," Xander greeted him, throwing open his front door. Draco sighed.
"I'm sorry," he said. Xander waved this aside.
"And I suppose you've got your wand, haven't you?"
"No, as a matter of fact, I haven't!" snapped Draco. Dammit, not using magic was difficult enough without being constantly accused of doing so.
"Show me," said Xander, folding his arms.
"You're being ridiculous, Xander."
"Please." Sighing, Draco turned out his empty pockets. At this Xander seemed satisfied, and his aggressive mood evaporated.
"All right. Shall we go, then?" Draco, however, was not so easily mollified. Though he nodded and followed Xander out into the cool evening air, he could think of nothing other than his wand, lying abandoned on his bedside table.
They walked in silence for several minutes, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
"Hope it doesn't rain tonight," said Xander finally, gesturing toward the clouds gathering threateningly overhead.
"Mmm-hmm," Draco muttered, without looking. Xander frowned.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing." This was patently untrue, but it was better than the truth. The truth would require a great deal of explanation he didn't care to give, and besides that Xander might not understand. He didn't like it when Draco mentioned magic.
"Tell me," said Xander, frowning slightly.
"I don't want to."
"Please." Draco sighed. He knew Xander wasn't going to give up.
"Come on, Draco. I care about you and I want to make you feel better," Xander pleaded. Draco stared down at the cracked pavement. He knew that what Xander said was true, but he couldn't bring himself to explain what was bothering him. Xander would become annoyed, as he always did, at the mention of magic.
"You wouldn't understand." As Draco said this, there was a loud clap of thunder overhead, and it began to rain. Xander looked at the ground for a moment.
"It's about your stupid wand again, isn't it?" he muttered.
"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you," snapped Draco.
Xander stopped walking and screamed, "You care more about a piece of wood than you do about me!"
Draco whirled around to face him, a blank look overwhelming his visage. To Xander, Draco appeared to be crying, but he couldn't be sure because of the rain spattering them.
"No, Xander. I lo- I lo..." And just like that Draco turned and ran. Xander watched Draco's back recede from view, his face stinging from the cold London rain pelting it.
By the time Draco returned home, the rain had turned to sleet. He was freezing to the bone, his clothes sodden through, his hair dripping wet-but he didn't care. He'd known already that it wouldn't be a pleasant evening, but he hadn't imagined how very unpleasant it would turn out to be. He'd thought talking to Xander would make him feel better, but all it had accomplished was angering them both. He missed the early days of their relationship-they'd been so much happier, and they'd never fought. But they'd begun to have trouble, Draco reflected, when he'd revealed to Xander that he was a wizard.
He pulled the door roughly open, throwing off his sodden jacket as he entered his flat. Without pausing, he yanked open the bathroom door, stopping to examine his reflection in the mirror. His hair was soaking wet, and his normally pale skin looked nearly colorless. His eyes, by contrast, were rather red. His face had been so wet with rain, he reflected, that he'd apparently failed to notice his tears.
Some months later:
'Who the bloody fucking hell does he think he is? Dumping a fucking Malfoy? Malfoys don't get dumped!' Draco thought as he gulped down his third shot of lime laced tequila. He was too distracted to enjoy the flavor, and was simply sucking the liquid down for its alcohol content.
It was barely half passed seven in the evening and Draco was already well on his way to slap-happy drunken bliss. He had stumbled into the nearest Muggle pub after his "long-term domestic partner", Xander, informed Draco that he had gotten a little to stagnant for his taste.
'We never go out anymore Draco…! I want to have fun and act like we did when we first got together!' Xander's final complaints still resonated through Draco's head as he tried oh-so-hard to forget anyone named Xander ever existed. Draco had simply stuttered at Xander's remarks and when that lost Xander's attention momentarily Draco had nearly pulled out his wand to hex the slightly younger man, recalling just in time that Xander was a Muggle and that it was forbidden to use magic in their presence. It had been a difficult task to keep Xander in the dark about his Wizarding heritage for the extent of their five year relationship and many times over Draco had been left reprimanding himself for near mishaps with his wand around his now ex-lover.
A sharp, sputtering cough directly to his left pulled Draco from his musings all too fast and he found himself in a barely lit, spinning room filled with a suffocating mass of people gyrating to the beat of an overly-loud 'brit-pop' song blaring over their numerous conversations. He tasted vodka on his cottony tongue and realized that he must have switched to the beverage at some point during his trip down a recently constructed lane in his memory. He cast a whispered but slurred tempus and was shocked to realize that almost four hours had passed since he had arrived.
Draco turned slowly to his left gazing at the hazy figure that had pulled him from his mind, albeit purely by accident. Draco barely had time to ascertain that the blur facing him was a handsome, dark haired man before he was being pressed into the counter of the bar by the persistent, hot mouth of said blur. The idea of fighting the man off of him briefly flittered across Draco's mind when suddenly that thought was drown out by another. The second thought seemed to scream at him about how Xander was no longer in the picture and how Draco could snog the brains out of whomever he wanted, even if that whom was a perfect stranger. He took all of two seconds to think through what he was about to embark on and pulled the man with his tongue down his throat tight to his own slender frame, finally engaging in the heated embrace his mouth was involved in.
Draco tasted gin and orange in the mystery man's mouth and let out a brief, all-but-silent moan as the flavor mingled with that of the vodka in his own mouth. He took a moment to marvel at the flavor before realizing that he was practically having fully clothed sex, with someone he didn't know, at the counter of a Muggle pub. He pulled his mouth away from the other man's and shout-whispered in a faltering, raw tone, "My flat's down the block, follow me." He did his best to shove the stranger off and grasped his forearm tightly before wading through the sea of people toward the door. The stranger followed willingly in Draco's wake but allowed him to keep his hold on his arm. When they made it to the back alley and into cool night air of London Draco gulped in a few deep breathes before marching determinedly in the direction of his flat, releasing his grip on the man behind him. The man followed Draco stumbling, and tripping the whole way down the narrow, dank alleyway.
Draco trudged up the few concrete steps from the street to the door of his flat and turned on the landing to look at the man he had brought home. He couldn't make out the man's features for they were obscured; partly by skewed shadows cast by the street lights high above them, but mostly by Draco's own drunkenness. He could, however, tell that the man was tall and built in stature with a muscular frame and toned arms that were hanging limply from his broad, squared shoulders. A single coherent thought seem to surface in Draco's head as he gazed at the man, that he, Draco, was extremely attracted to this individual, to the point that it made his knees weak. Or was that the alcohol again?
The stranger was standing on the sidewalk before the steps, seemingly phased by the idea of climbing them, as a result of his own intoxication. "Come on then!" grunted Draco motioning with his hands toward the door. Draco turned around and began to fumble with his keys in the lock. He jimmied the door open and swept inside pulling the other man along by his recently available shirt collar. They crossed the threshold into a dim entry hall, as soon as the door was closed behind them the man grasped the wrist that was attached to the hand clutching his collar with one hand, placing the other firmly on Draco's waist; he turned Draco around slamming Draco's back against the sealed front door. Pressing a heavy, hot, stirring kiss to Draco's mouth, he moved his hands between their chests, seizing a fistful of clothe with one hand on either side, with the button trail down the middle, he pulled hard in opposing directions causing Draco's shirt buttons to fly everywhere, landing with soft, metallic "Pinks!" on the hard wood floor about the foyer; all the while exploring the great crevasse that is Draco's mouth with his own tongue. When Draco felt warm hands begin to glide over and caress the smooth skin of his bare chest he let out a pleased whimper into the other man's mouth. The stranger roughly broke the kiss and just a Draco started to protest began a scorching, moist trail of kisses down Draco's neck and chest. Draco arched off the door into the other man as the latter took one of Draco's erect nipples into his mouth, nibbling and teasing the sensitive nub mercilessly. "Oh Xander!" moaned Draco as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over him.
The mystery man promptly ceased his ministrations and pulled away from Draco entirely. Draco whined immediately at the loss of contact and reluctantly opened his eyes to ascertain what had caused the abrupt lack thereof. The other man looked distraught and Draco opened his mouth to ask what was causing the abrupt discomfort when realized what he had exclaimed. Draco snapped his mouth shut and busied himself with descending the hallway to flip the light switch on. A cherry blush was the first thing Draco noted about his companions face and he was certain he had a similar color blotting his own face to match. A long, awkward silence followed during which the two men were looking anywhere but at each other.
While staring at his entirely ordinary boots like they were the most interesting thing he'd ever set eyes on the stranger hesitantly asked, "Err… Uhh… should I umm… go…?"
"No… no, not yet. I didn't even get your name or a good look at you for that matter." Replied Draco with a nervous laugh.
"Is Erikson… Erickson Stone, Erik for short." Supplied the stranger with a timid smile. "And you are…?"
While leading Erik to the parlor Draco responded, "Draco, just Draco. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Or perhaps something stronger?"
"Tea, just tea. Thanks." As Draco turned, heading for the kitchen Erik asked, "Draco? Could I borrow your loo?"
"Down the hall, third door on the left." Draco replied, gesturing as he walked away.