I knew Draco would be gone when I woke, but the pain of a cold, empty bed hurt no less. I ignored the throbbing ache between my legs and muttered the spell to prevent any quickening inside of me. Flashes of the night ran through my mind, erupting butterflies in my stomach at the memory of Draco's firm hands on my waist, my wrists, my neck. It became clear to me, quite quickly, that my affection for him had only grown. And this was a dangerous concept. He had told me, plain as day, that he could not be with me. He did not want me in that same way, did not feel this heart-sick wrench as I did. Still, I had been intimate with him.

You fucking idiot, Astoria.

I took a quick shower and sat at the kitchen table with my coffee — sweet, milky, caramel. An owl tapped at the window, the day's Prophet tied to his leg. Bile soured the base of my throat, and my hands shook as I unlatched the screen and took the paper. I tucked the coins into the miniature satchel and tossed the Prophet onto the growing pile of unopened newspapers on the counter. I couldn't go there — not yet.

To my surprise, two more owls arrived at the window, both bearing letters. I audibly gasped at the sight of the snowy one, with a plume of gorgeous feathers in a pattern like leopard skin. But the barn owl tapped his beak, impatient, so I unravelled his letter first.

Astoria,

Luna says you are interested in further journalistic work for the Quibbler.

I am putting together a political column, and would love to meet and discuss your opportunities further.

I'll pencil us in for four o'clock this afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron. Send your answer back with Quibbly, the owl. He'll wait.

Kindest regards,

Xenophilius Lovegood

Editor-in-Chief

The Quibbler Publication

I scanned my mental calendar, before realising the idea of me having anything happening was laughable. Unemployment was not a busy affair. I scribbled a yes on the back and sent the owl away again, with a handful of sunflower seeds for the journey. I then turned to the white owl, who was watching me as though assessing something. I removed the parchment to see only one line in elegant, looping green ink.

I don't like being in debt. This owl's yours. -D

My brow grew heavy as I took in the words, absent-mindedly extending a finger to brush the owl. He gave a happy little hoot, but I remained lost in thought. Was this a kind gesture of Draco's, or a way of cutting ties? I don't like being in debt. What did that mean?

"You're not blowing me off again, Malfoy."

I pocketed my shaking hands, meeting his eyes with a glare. He stood in the entrance to Zabini's apartment, holding the door ajar. A puzzled look flitted across his face.

"Did you get the owl?"

"Yes, I did get the owl." I swallowed. "He's lovely. But I didn't understand the note."

"What's there to understand?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why would you be in my debt?"

"Because you bought me an owl, Tori," he rolled his eyes.

"It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing."

I glanced past him, into the house. "Can I come in?"

"Why are you really here?" A smirk flitted across his face. "Miss me too much, after last night?"

"I just want to know where I stand."

"I've already told you."

"So things haven't changed then?"

Draco sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn't finished.

"I told you I couldn't do this, Draco. I told you I had to step back because it would hurt too much, and then you show up at my house and you… And we…"

"Fucked?" he offered, grinning.

My cheeks pinkened. "Yes. And then you tie up your debts, and you wonder why this isn't confusing as hell for me."

"What do you want me to say, Tori? That I'm your boyfriend? You already know why I won't."

"No. I just…" The door had swung wider forward as we spoke, and I saw the place was filled with boxes. "What are they for?" I asked, pointing.

Draco looked down at his feet. "Blaise is moving."

"Oh." I paused. "Are you going with him?"

"No. He, uh, asked Hestia to marry him."

Things had suddenly become very awkward. Neither of us could look the other in the eye.

"Tell them I say congratulations," I mumbled.

Draco nodded.

"So, are you staying here?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

"Zabini's father is selling the place."
"Then where will you go?"

Draco sighed. "I don't know yet."

I softened, concerned. "Could you buy it yourself?"

"My parents have frozen my Gringotts vault."

It didn't feel polite to ask why. I felt a nonsensical need to help him, to look after him, in any way that I could. Maybe it was the shadows beneath his eyes, or the pained expression he wore, like a saddened child.

"Why don't you stay at Daphne's?" I blurted. "It's just me there, and now I've stopped working, I could use a roommate.

He was silent for a moment and I held my breath, barely believing my own daring.

He snorted. "That's the worst idea I've ever heard."

"I'm only trying to help."

"And how would moving in with you help anyone?"

"I know you care about me, Draco!" I'd had enough. The words spilled freely, my hands balled into fists. "You told me so yourself! So stop pushing me away, and saying hurtful things. I mean it, or I'm going to have to quit you. Cold turkey."

His silence only made me angrier. I turned to leave, before I cursed him into oblivion, when he spoke.

"Tori. Can we not just… be friendly?"

I scoffed at him. "You said it yourself, Draco. We're not going to be friends."

I was still in a mood when I entered the Leaky Cauldron. I grumbled my order to the bartender, firewhiskey thanks, and found Xenophilius almost immediately. He was sat, wearing purple robes with shoulder pads almost half a metre wide, extending into long, draping sleeves. Atop his head, he wore a mock green crown, and a single earring dangling down to chest height. He periodically flapped a hand about his head, as though swatting away invisible flies.

"Mr Lovegood?" I asked, extending a hand. "Astoria Greengrass."

He looked at me only blankly for a moment, before springing into action with fervour. "Miss Greengrass, yes, pleasure to meet you! Do sit down, sit down."

I took my seat, clutching my parchments to my chest. I'd brought samples of recent articles, as well as my NEWT results from Hogwarts.

"I'm very sorry to hear about all that nasty business with your employer at the Prophet," Xenophilius said, his forehead creasing into a frown. "The Prophet have used slanderous propaganda for years to silence those of us with voices worth speaking."

"Thank you. It's… not nice, having people think I'm a death eater."

"And how powerless we feel to alter public perception," he mumbled, staring into space.

"Yes," I agreed, shifting in my seat.

"Astoria, how would you feel about writing a piece detailing your side of the story? A chance to lay down the truth, once and for all."

I was taken aback. "That might be dangerous, Mr Lovegood. Marcus is a powerful man… I'm sure he would retaliate."

Xenophilius shook his head, sipping on a brown, muddy liquid. "Marcus has committed the first act. Your story would be the retaliation. And most justified."

"I don't know…"

"Well, if the idea doesn't appeal to you, I have been working on a piece investigating Shacklebolt's latest tax hikes. Sources have told me the extra funding will extend to bewitched surveillance owls, until such a time…"


Draco felt beyond embarrassed, beyond humiliated, as he stared into his mother's eyes. His wand arm went limp, sending his trunk and owl cage to the ground with a thump.

"You're telling me I can't come back?"

"Of course not, darling," Narcissa said in a hurried whisper. "It's just, the ministry is watching all of our homes, and taking note of who enters. Proof of death eaters. I've told your father you're not to be involved, not again. I won't have you harmed this time, Draco."

"Then where am I supposed to sleep?" Draco hissed.

"We'll hire a room for you at the Leaky Cauldron."

"I'm not staying in that shit-hole." He clenched his jaw. "Release the hold on my vault. I'll sort my own place."

Narcissa wrung her hands. "We can't, darling. The ministry have holds on our vaults as collateral."

"What the fuck?!"

"We can continue our day-to-day spending, we just can't withdraw large amounts, anything that would make them think we're planning to run."

"How is any of this legal?"

Narcissa shook her head. "I don't know. But we have to do this, Draco. When this is all over. we'll… we'll go abroad. To France, maybe. Get away from it all."

"They'll never let you go," Draco spat. "You'll be under saint Kingsley's thumb forever."

Tears welled in his mother's eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Draco retreated in disgust. He made it halfway down the driveway before sinking to the ground, pressing his knuckles against his eyes. It seemed the world was determined to taunt him, to curse him, to send him straight into Tori's arms again. He fought with himself for a moment as the selfish, impulsive part of his mind erupted with glee. He imagined living with Tori. Waking beside her each morning and falling asleep in her bed each night. Kissing her neck and whispering in the dark, and snuggling up to read together by the light of day.

No.

It would not be like that. He'd set limits, boundaries, he reasoned with himself. Separate bedrooms. Contact only when necessary. It could be the best thing for them both. The spark would fizzle out of its own accord, and by the time she realised this and moved on, he'd find a way to access his vault. Maybe go to France, just as his mother had said. With a vow that he'd go to Gringotts the next day, Draco spun on the spot, ignoring his internal complaints at the formality of his own agreement.

Draco knocked twice with no answer. Where the fuck was she? He turned around, seeing the last rays of sun disappear beneath the trees in the distance. The neighbours would start looking soon, and see him with a levitating trunk and cage. He didn't know if the surrounding people were muggles. He also didn't much care to find out.

"Alohomora," he grumbled, letting himself in.

The place smelled faintly of her floral perfume. The owl hooted from atop the back of a dining chair.

"Didn't think I'd see you again so soon," Draco said. "You can share with mine."

He opened his own owl's cage — still unnamed — and the two sized each other up for a moment, before deciding they could cope with the arrangement. Draco muttered an extending charm to give them more breathing room.

"See," he said, more to himself. "You can live together. The world hasn't ended."

He glanced around, taking in the crisp white walls and plush furniture. He ran a hand along the mahogany table, recalling his first meal there with Tori. As though inspired, he walked to the fridge and inspected its contents.

Nothing but a single beetroot and a cheese string.

Draco grumbled to himself, swearing he would send for groceries by mail-order first thing in the morning. He inspected each room, familiarising himself with the layout. He took his trunk up to the spare bedroom and set to work unpacking, then transfigured his bedding to Slytherin green. He tried not to worry about Astoria wherethefuckisshe but couldn't help a sigh of relief when the door opened.

"About time," he called out, folding his last jumper and making his way down the stairs.

A spell hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards and locking up his entire body. Only his eyes could move, frenzied, as Tori came creeping slowly forwards from the shadows.

"Draco?" she asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He tried to convey what he hoped was a look of incredulity, while she muttered the counter-curse and released him.

"Do you treat all your guests with such kindness?" he asked, rubbing a sore spot on his elbow from where he fell.

Tori's eyes narrowed. "Do you usually break into people's homes?"

"I didn't break in. I decided to take you up on your offer."

A look of surprise burst across her face. "Why?"

Draco gulped. The words lodged in his throat, and he found he couldn't tell her. "I was worried about you," he joked. "Not being able to afford rent."

Tori rolled her eyes.

"I won't stay long," Draco promised, serious once more. "I just need to work out a few things."

Astoria reached out a hand to brush against his. "You can stay as long as you want to."

This act of tenderness was breaking his rules, his boundaries. He pulled away.

"It won't be long at all if you don't get some damn food. What exactly were you planning on eating?"

"I have some tuna in the cupboards," she mumbled, her cheeks turning pink.

Draco pulled a face. "A tin of tuna is not a meal."

"It's only me here! It would be silly to stock up."

"That's going to change."

Draco ordered dinner from the Leaky Cauldron, and they arrived via the Floo network. The pair ate in silence, with only the occasional hoot from the owls. It was an awkward moment when the dishes were finally clean and the doors locked.

"I'm off to bed," Draco said, tugging at his sleeves.

Tori nodded. "Goodnight."

He hesitated, not knowing what he wanted to say, but decided to leave on that note. He climbed in beneath the thick duvet, secretly longing to be engulfed in hers. Some time later he heard the footsteps on the stairs, the swing of her bedroom door. The sprinkle of the shower came from the other end of the landing, muffled through the walls. What is it with us and showers? he wondered.

A silent war began to wage in his head. He wanted to be with Tori again. Last night had felt unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The way she had whimpered beneath him, the way her fingernails dug into his back, just two walls away. But he had promised himself none of that here. And the mental image of her in the shower was not helping him keep a clear head.

His willpower lasted through the entire, torturous shower. But when all the lights had gone dark, and only the moon shone through the windows, Draco finally relented.

He crept across the landing and knocked on Tori's door.