Draco

"Malfoy, wait up," Potter called from behind him.

Draco didn't want to slow down. He had said more embarrassing things to Potter today than in the entirety of their knowing one another, and he had been about to tell that caretaker that he was in love with someone. How embarrassing.

He kept his eyes forward on the stone structures at the back of the cemetery and decided to try and place the architecture to keep his mind off of Potter and the way this blasted potion was making up all of his carefully curated control. There were some that looked like Egyptian revival tombs, and others that called back to Rome and the columns of their great structures. Others were properly gothic and looked like they would have inspired the likes of Mary Shelly and Edgar Allen Poe. The grounds were meticulously cared for—verdant green grass spread out around him, and large trunked trees gave shade to the perimeter of the grounds. The ivy and moss growing on older stones all seemed intentional as opposed to overgrown.

"That bloke was an odd duck, wasn't he?" Potter asked when he caught up.

Draco clenched his jaw. The potion made him overly aware of Potter's next to him; static electricity crackled between their bodies. All the hair on his arms stood at attention, as if reaching out for Potter. Every second felt like it was stretched to an eternity, and he hated this potion and how it made him think of everything he wanted but could never have.

"What was it that made him odd exactly?" Draco snapped, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. He knew he was being petulant, but it was damned hard to keep his cool when the potion was working to bring all these emotions to the forefront in order to protect him. "Was it simply that he was interested in me, or was it something else that I didn't pick up on since I'm a terrible Auror and you're the next coming of Merlin?"

"Malfoy, come on," Potter said, his tone half joking, half offended. "That's not what I meant."

"Wasn't it? You've made it perfectly clear that I'm inferior to you in your treatment of me as your partner, even though I try harder with you than I have ever tried with anyone. It's never enough for you, and I doubt it ever will be." Draco was trembling now, every part of him too awake with sensation. He wanted to run, to hide away until the potion left his system so he could go back to ignoring his feelings for Potter in peace.

Potter took a deep breath. "That's not—"

"You never listen to me, never communicate your plans to me," Draco continued, cutting Potter off, his mouth moving of its own accord now. "You act like I am your secretary and not your partner." Draco picked up his pace. He wanted to be anywhere but where Potter was—he needed air, he needed this potion to wear off.

"Malfoy, wait up, wait," Potter said, his breathing a bit labored as he tried to catch up.

"I suppose you think he should have been interested in you, right? Like all the other people on the planet who are star struck whenever they see 'The Harry Potter.'" Draco couldn't stop the words from coming anymore than he could stop himself loving Potter. They flowed from him freely as if the potion broke a dam of emotion that had been the only thing keeping him sane.

"That's not fair. I can't control how people react to me," Potter said, sounding sulky.

Draco laughed bitterly to himself. "I mean, how could anyone see me as worthy with all the terrible things I did. Death Eater scum that I am, right? Doesn't matter that I do good now, that I've undone as much of the damage my father wrought as I possibly could, in your eyes… I'm still nothing."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Malfoy," Potter snapped. He was now in step with Draco, though he was taking two steps for one of Draco's.

"You don't have to say the words, Potter, but the message is still there...loud and clear."

Potter grabbed Draco by the arm, pulling him around to face him. Draco expected the arousal this time, but that didn't take away from the intensity of the touch. Potter squeezed hard once, then pulled his hand back flexing his fingers like they were sore as he did. "Can we walk at a normal pace, so I can explain myself?"

Draco scowled, but nodded his agreement. His body was still in overdrive from the touch, but he managed to start walking again, if a bit uncomfortably, toward the mausoleums. Potter walked beside him. He was quiet for a moment, then he spoke.

"Look, Malfoy, really, that's not even close to what I meant. I only meant he was an odd bloke. The way he was talking to you like he knew you just because he reads the articles. Those people freak me out." Potter sounded calmer suddenly, all the anger gone from his voice. "I never said that it was odd that he found you attractive, or that you aren't worthy. Honestly, it would have been odd if he didn't find you attractive. I mean, shite, just look at you. You should hear what everyone at the DMLE says about you. Half the secretaries swoon whenever you pass them. Everyone thinks you're good-looking."

Potter slowed his pace suddenly and stopped in the middle of the cobblestone walkway, clutching his chest like an easily offended dowager after hearing someone say something untoward. Draco turned in time to catch the moment of shock that ran across Potter's face.

Finally Draco understood all those stupid Victorian romance novels his mother had made him read growing up. He'd thought them all ridiculous, getting flustered over something as innocent as a compliment from their love interest. And Potter hadn't even directly complimented him, yet the feeling of falling consumed Draco to his core until he thought he might never feel surefooted again.

"Di—did you just compliment me?" Draco was sure he wore an equally shocked expression, though all he could focus on was how Potter's eyes raked up and down Draco's body like they were seeing him for the first time.

"Er, uh, well...I," Potter stammered. He locked eyes with Draco. They blazed, wild and green.

The last bit of the sunset disappeared behind the clouds again, cloaking the cemetery in darkness. Night was upon them. Time was running out. The wind picked up and whistled through the trees, making Draco shiver. His body reacted to the wind, sending a shockwave of pleasure down his spine. Potter still watched him and Draco felt exposed standing there, with the wind caressing his skin and Potter's gaze fixed on him.

Draco felt the weight of the moment as it sank through him, filling him with a warmth low in his groin. He needed to do something else, something that would keep Potter's eyes off of him until he was sure he could breathe properly again.

"We should check out the mausoleums. It will be night soon. No telling when the creature will be back or when the potion wears off." Draco hoped against hope that Potter couldn't hear the arousal in his voice.

Potter cleared his throat. "Yeah, let's do that. Split up to cover more ground?"

Tension rolled off Draco's shoulders at Potter's suggestion to split up. "Yes, good. Send up a red spark if you find anything or run into trouble."

"Agreed." Potter's eyes lingered on Draco for a moment, then he turned on his heel and jogged towards the far end of the rows of mausoleums, ducking out of sight.

The sky darkened even more and rain began to fall. The droplets hit Draco's face, startling him out of his thoughts, the sensation of the raindrops rolling down his exposed skin like a soft touch. He pulled his wand out and cast an umbrella charm to keep the rain off of him. Then he took in one deep breath and turned towards the opposite end, thankful to be free of Potter's gaze, yet feeling colder without it as if someone stripped his blankets off in the middle of winter.