7 months to go…

It had taken him months, but Draco finally thought he knew the secret of pygmy puff love-making.

"It's all in the tongue," he told Jordan, who came far too close in his attempt to look into the cage. Draco did not even think about making room for him and so he was forced to inhale his scent, which was not particularly unpleasant, but foreign and just not something Draco thought he could grow accustomed to.

"Ugh, Malfoy!" Jordan elbowed him – roughly. "I don't wanna think about that! Those tongues touch me when I carry them upstairs, okay?"

"I don't want to know where your hands already have been," Draco replied, not even trying to disguise his disgusted expression. That image just resulted in pure, intense aversion.

"Well…" Jordan's incredibly white teeth almost blinded Draco when he grinned at him. "I know for sure where they haven't been yet." And then he winked at Draco. With this strange emphasise on 'yet' Draco could only feel more disgust and wished he were in a position to verbalise that.

So he stuck to an innocent remark. "The shelves on the second floor? Quite a thick layer of dust waiting there for you."

Lee still grinned, not serious about the challenge, but not refusing it either. "Maybe the slave of the store wants to join me –"

"Lee." The harsh voice from behind caused Jordan to turn around since he was not used to George speaking to him like George was his boss. "Break's over. Need you upstairs."

Draco ignored whatever look Jordan flashed him and focused on the pygmy puffs. Two of them still with entwined tongues. A few minutes ago it had looked quite cute but by now Draco thought they only accidentally knotted their tongues together.

When he moved to help them, a hand slammed against his shoulder. Draco fell with his side against the cold stone wall of the cellar.

Reflexively, he whirled around. "What the heck is wrong with –" He bit his tongue as he noticed that he spit his words directly into George's face. Jordan was gone. And Draco found himself hoping for his return.

George scowled at him, his eyes with the same stoniness they had on Draco's first day. His face filled with signs of rage and when his fist punched next to Draco's face against the wall, Draco had a hard time not to show that he was actually afraid.

"You are not allowed to romantically interact with my employees. Understood?"

Raising his chin proudly, Draco said, "Excuse me, Boss, but just because I prefer romantic interaction with men doesn't mean I throw myself at the next best guy."

"Don't talk about my best mate like that," George growled and not only was his anger visible, Draco could also feel the heat because of the almost not existent distance between them.

"Since he's your best mate you should know by now that he's quite flirtatious. He even spoke like that to McGonagall and I'm sure he didn't plan any romantic interaction with her." Draco crossed his arms, hoping this would work as some kind of barrier to keep George at least a few inches away from him.

"Since I know that you're a dirty, little whore I am allowed to worry about a love potion accidentally slipping in my best mate's tea." George said so many hurtful things in that one sentence that Draco did not know how to react at first.

Eventually, when George already seemed to notice what his statement had done, Draco snorted and forced a smirk.

"You should rethink your sources, Weasley."

George's fist hit once more against the wall. "I don't have to rethink, Malfoy. You do what I want you to do or you walk straight to Azkaban. And I don't want to see you flirting with my best mate."

Draco's jaw clenched painfully as he tried not to say something but every time he had to listen to such things it got harder. He balled his hands into fists and unfolded his arms, narrowing his eyes to thin slits as he looked up at George. The words were on his tongue, but the thought of Azkaban sealed his lips.

George growled. "Pathetic, Malfoy. You'd do anything to stay out of Azkaban. I don't even want to know how many times you tried to seduce yourself out of this shit. Too bad you got my brother, eh? No chance there, not even with the prettiest arse in the world."

Draco frowned at this comment, by now able to ignore any attempts to insult him. Was it jealousy that had George's face red like a tomato? That would also explain why his hand was suddenly on Draco's chin, lifting his face and holding him in place.

"I wonder how far you'd go to stay here."

Draco licked his lips, because George continued to lean closer. And did it really matter what he said when he – in the end – only needed an excuse to express his feelings?

"Tell me, Malfoy. How far?" George's lips were hovering barely an inch away from Draco's.

Draco stayed stoically silent. He did not want to lose the last bit of his pride and admit that he would willingly crawl into George's bed even without any threats of Azkaban. It was pathetic enough if he reminded himself that this was still a Weasley. George might be successful and he earned enough money that, with other cases, Draco's parents would consider him worth a try, but he was a Weasley. He had red hair, lots of freckles, and almost as many siblings. Having a crush on him was bad enough; being at his mercy would be worse.

"Answer me," George gritted out between teeth that were almost as tightly clenched as Draco's. His lips still looked temptingly soft… Draco should know that the worst thing he could do would be to give up his resistance in this situation. But all the things George could force Draco to do when he realised how much power he actually had seemed worth a try in Draco's clouded mind.

Draco swallowed hard. "Could you… do that?" he asked. "Are you such a conscienceless man, George?" The use of his first name seemed to finally soften George up a bit, but he stayed close, his breathing erratic and warm against Draco's lips. "Do you hate me so much?"

George looked like he honestly had to think about this, and Draco had been so sure that hate had long passed, but… apparently he had hoped in vain. Hate that had grown over years could not disappear in half a year. Neither could it turn into something more.

Well then, he had obviously never hated George.

Draco wanted to turn his head away when George suddenly moved closer. He pressed his body against Draco's, his hands moving back to the wall, fingers splaying on stone that was not cold enough to decrease the desire burning through Draco's body.

Draco's eyelids grew heavier as he watched George leaning closer. It was laughable how much he wanted to close the distance. There was only one thing he wanted more than kissing George now, or tomorrow, or forever and always…

And before Draco could finish his thoughts it already happened. He was kissing George, and George was kissing back, and he could not say who had started the kiss. Draco started touching, at least with his hands, because George was virtually glued to him, pressing closer and closer, slowly moving up and down, starting the friction that forced Draco to cling to him.

His hands explored the flexing muscles, moving down George's spine and back up to his shoulder blades to scratch over them with his nails. That was the trigger for George's knee to slip between Draco's legs, and it felt so good to get even closer to him that Draco could not help but moan helplessly.

"Please…"

And that one word seemed to be the trigger for George to stop. At first he did not pull away except with his mouth, which already caused enough pain in Draco. His body automatically followed George's when he tried to step backwards. His fingers clutched to George's robe as he hungrily moved to stand on his tiptoes, greedily trying to reach George's lips.

"Please," Draco muttered again. He was starving for affection, something he had never been more aware of in years. That was why it hurt so much to be pushed away again.

There was a disgusted look on George's face as he sized Draco up, a pathetic mess of need leaning against the wall. Draco could understand it; he would have looked at himself in the same way. But it still hurt. And it did not stop hurting.

"I don't want this." George shook his head, tired, exhausted, like he had tried to save a long lasting relationship and finally realised that it was too late.

Panic rose in Draco and he straightened. "Don't," he said hastily when George moved to leave. The way he looked back at Draco was almost hopeful. "Don't throw me out. I won't come out of here again. I won't say anything to anyone… I'll stop thinking about you, but, please, don't throw me out. You are everything that stays between me and Azkaban."

Now Draco hoped he looked pathetic. He wanted to make George feel at least pity for him, because the one thing in the world he wanted more than anything else was remaining free of Azkaban.

George snorted and turned around. Not a single word left his unusually red lips and the silence he dragged over the room was only broken when he slammed the door of the cellar shut, leaving Draco with pure fear running cold through his veins.