Saturday came far quicker than Draco would have liked. Potter had been oddly quiet at work as well, which seemed to make the days go faster. A fact he enjoyed before he figured out that Potter was probably just saving up his conversation for the full day he'd signed up for when Saturday came.
Andromeda came with Potter, mother letting them both in downstairs. Instead of the do she was heading to with the Weasleys, mother was taking Andromeda to some sort of muggle flower show. One Draco sort of wished he was going to as well. It was certainly better than sliding off his bed to bid his mother goodbye left, once the door closed, with Potter and just Potter.
"Oof!" Well, Potter and Teddy. "Yes, hello," he hugged Teddy back.
Potter cleared his throat, holding a bag of something slightly colourful inside, "I brought some board games. My broom too. Figured we could spend some time flying."
"Like we don't do enough of that," Draco muttered, but even he couldn't deny it was a nice day for it. He took Teddy's hand, accio-ing his broom down, "Fine then. Do you want to learn to fly Teddy?"
The answer to that was an enthusiastic "Yes!"
He leaned forward on his broom, resting his arms on the handle and sticking his tongue out at Teddy. The kid laughed, letting go of Potter's broom to stick his hands out on his cheeks. Very cute.
Flying could only last so long however. They couldn't exactly go fast with Teddy either, and while he was three, nearing four, even Teddy found Potter cruising him along the long stretch of the Malfoy grounds fun for a certain amount of time. Not that it mattered, Potter had come prepared. Not only did he have board games, but sugar, flour and a whole other things to make cookies out of.
As much as Draco wanted to pretend he knew what was going on, he didn't. He was in as much awe as Teddy at how, exactly, chocolate chip cookies were made. "So they only go in for twelve minutes?" Draco made sure. That didn't sound right to his ears.
Yet Potter nodded. "Maybe a bit longer. We keep them in until they're golden brown on top." Which Draco didn't know what that meant until Potter got the cookies out and showed him and Teddy. "If you want them gooey, leave them in less and wait until they harden up a little. If you want them crunchy," he handed one to Teddy, the cookie gone in under a second, "Twelve minutes more or less."
Draco took his own bite, the cookie still soft but crunching slightly under his teeth. They were good. More than good. God he wished he knew how to make these before. He only swallowed a little bit of his pride, and more cookie, to ask, "Could you maybe write that recipe down? Mother would appreciate some." And these certainly wouldn't be making them to her.
Potter grinned, "Sure. Anything else you want to know how to make? My aunt used to make me do the cooking when I lived with her."
Tempting. Far too tempting really. "I'll think about it."
They took the cookies to the parlour, Teddy jumping on the sofas until Potter told him to get down. Draco didn't see why, he needed an excuse to get rid of them, and broken because Teddy had jumped on them too hard didn't seem to be that bad. It wasn't like his mother would blame Teddy. She hated these sofas too. Still, Potter had called him down, and, after reading a bunch of parenting books at the muggle library he liked to hide in on some weekends, conflicting orders weren't good for children.
Board games, more cooking with Draco taking notes and then evening, where Draco actually knew the routine. Bath, bed, book, done. Easy. Except Teddy always liked to make things difficult, and this time there weren't two extra people for him to exploit. He was pouty all through Draco lathering up his hair, not even bothering with the bubbles. Which, for Draco, wasn't that much of a problem. The less time he had to pry Teddy out of the bath the better. Brushing his teeth was a different story, because Teddy knew, after teeth came bed, which meant, in the mind of a three, almost four, year old, if he put off doing his teeth, he could put off bedtime.
Solid logic.
"Teeth," Draco insisted, holding the toothbrush in front of Teddy's mouth.
"No." Even a foot stomp. Oof, no build up, Teddy really was in a mood.
"Teddy," Draco warned.
Teddy stomped his foot again, Draco hearing Potter snigger behind him.
"United front," He hissed, watching Potter's smirk fall into a serious nod. He turned back to Teddy, "Teeth please. Harry and I need to brush ours too. You're holding everyone up."
Teddy turned his head away.
Okay then, "Teddy bear Lupin we are not leaving this room until your teeth are brushed."
Teddy's brow furrowed, head slowly tilting back to Draco, "My name's not Teddy bear. I think," he looked to Potter.
It wasn't, but all those books had taught things like distracting the kid from their bad mood, and if calling Teddy a teddy bear was going to do it then Draco was going to try it. Sure enough, when Potter played along, humming and harring for a good minute, Teddy's bad mood was all but disappeared, meaning when Draco handed the toothbrush over again, Teddy stuck it in his mouth. Anything to get back to what his full name was.
Edward, it turned out. Named after Andromeda's late husband. Draco hadn't known that, he'd thought the kids name was Theodore or something like that. Well at least he knew now.
Not that it mattered since, before he settled down under his covers, Teddy announced he liked the sound of Teddy bear better than Edward.
Potter read Teddy his bedtime story, Draco leaving them to it in favour of stealing the leftovers from dinner. Potter found him down there, rooting through his cupboards to see if they had enough flour for a second round of cookies. Of course Potter chose clearing his throat as a way to announce his presence, and since Draco was too busy trying to reach the top shelf, he didn't hear the soft taps of Potter's approach. He would deny to his grave that he'd jumped. Either way Potter looked amused as he strode the rest of the way into the kitchen. "It's smaller than I thought it would be here."
Draco's heart was still pounding in his ears, common sense telling him to get off the counter so he didn't look like some sort of goblin. "Well it was made for house elves."
Potter nodded. "That explains it. Sirius's kitchen was small too. I always wondered why since they're always big houses."
Draco felt his heart stop for a moment before starting again, pretending he hadn't heard that name, pushing it out of his mind. "Well, the kitchen isn't what's important. You don't show people the kitchen when you take them on a tour."
"You took me," Potter pointed out.
"Yes," He had, "But that's because I wasn't going to cook for you." he shut the cupboards, "Is Teddy asleep?"
"Knocked out," Potter agreed.
Well that was something. He crouched, looking in the lower cupboards. There had to be some leftover butter. Maybe some icing sugar. Buttercream was tasty. Easy to make too.
Potter cleared his throat again.
"You really need to take a cough drop Potter," Or to get to the point. He knocked over the owl food, checking behind it for the icing sugar.
A hum came behind him, a bump too as Potter slid onto the counter next to him. Nothing came after that however. Draco made it four more cupboards, Potter staying in his spot, watching, "I was wondering if you wanted to, maybe, go to Diagon Alley with me."
"Diagon Alley?" Was he on drugs? What was going on here? Yet Potter looked well in mind when Draco looked up. No weird marks on his face, no large eyes, or weird behaviour. Well, he was always weird, but nothing beyond the realm of the norm. Which meant, Draco stood up, "Did my mother put you up to this?"
Potter immediately looked away. That answered that then. "Andromeda, actually."
Ah. Well, that changed things.
"Your er, she wanted me to get you out of the house." Of course she did. He knew she was starting to worry. With familiarity came scrutiny after all. It was alright with mother, she was just as shut in as Draco, but, apparently, her trips out with Andromeda actually counted for something since she wasn't here with freaking Potter asking him to go outside of his own- "There's something you need to know, and I sort of agree you shouldn't be at home when you hear it."
"Oh." He could feel his shoulders relaxing. "Really?" So it wasn't because she thought he was antisocial or whatever it was they were calling it these days. That was good.
Right?
"Yeah," Potter said, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "So, do you? I know a quiet place. Well, Hermione found it, or maybe we could go into town here? I had a look around before I came here, it looks nice."
The town was okay. "It's better than Diagon," that was for sure. No one in town was waiting to hex him if he turned his back on them. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been to Diagon. Probably shortly before his final term of school. He didn't remember a lot of it. Nor did he particularly want to. "When?"
"Tomorrow?" Potter checked, "I mean, I'm guessing I'm staying tonight, and Andromeda's coming in the morning so, we could just head straight there?"
"Fine." It wasn't Diagon, and it wasn't a way to 'make friends' which was fine by him.
It wasn't until he was lying in bed later that he wondered what sort of news couldn't be said in his own house. Was his mother seeing someone? That certainly would be cause for alarm. His mother didn't have the best taste in partners. Everyone 'eligible' these days would either be courting her out of spite or for some other nefarious reason he didn't want to think about.
He ended up searching the kitchen until dawn, alternating between feeding himself and the owl that had followed him into the kitchen bits of toast. "You're going to get fat," Draco told it, stuffing another slice of bread in the toaster. "Then what will happen? I'll have to get another owl. Or worse, a phone like those muggles."
"Owl!" screeched into the kitchen, Teddy running at full speed until he was by Draco's feet, hands grabbing up to try and get the owl.
"Teddy," warned before Draco could, Potter shuffling, yawning, into the kitchen, "Be gentle, you heard what Draco said, he can't afford to end up with a phone."
Draco stuffed the last bit of toast down his throat to stop himself from calling Potter a dick. Shooing the owl away, he grabbed Teddy around the waist and set about making breakfast. Something he didn't actually have to do as, once he'd finished buttering his new slice of toast, Potter had a pan and the leftovers of his goody bag out, bacon sizzling in a way that made Draco want to throw up.
Potter noticed, asking, "You alright?" as he flipped a piece over.
"Fine," He'd just have to breathe through his mouth, "Just not fond of the smell."
"Of bacon?" Potter made sure. "Thought you loved it. I distinctly remember hearing Pansy call you a thief when you stole her sarnie on a Sunday."
Just how Potter remembered that he didn't know but, "I used to like it. These days not so much." Cooking meat of any kind made his stomach turn actually. It was alright when it was in the oven, or on his plate, but the sound on the grill with the smell?
"You can wait outside if you like," Potter offered.
"I'll be fine." Like he said, he'd just breathe through his mouth.
Andromeda and mother clamoured through the door at nine. Mother went straight to bed, Draco making sure to hand her some water as he watched Andromeda and Potter have some sort of silent conversation to the side. Right, that 'message' he was supposed to be told about.
He grabbed his boots once he'd handed Teddy over, his muggle money too. Potter was waiting by the door, and after unlatching Teddy from his person they were off, the two of them walking the long twenty minutes until they came to the town.
He let Potter do his little bit exploring. Draco had been here enough times, lately too, to know what was where. After the fourth time, the wonder seemed to die down a little. That also could have been because they were out of his favourite cupcakes that day. Whatever the case, Potter wanted this little outing, so Draco let him take the lead. If he not so subtly hinted at some of the clothing shops they passed on their way then so be it. It wasn't his fault Potter needed new jeans. Or something that wasn't practically hanging off his person. How that Weasley girl even looked twice at him was beyond Draco's understanding. He knew she didn't exactly live off luxury, but he'd seen some of her exes. She had taste beyond this scruffy look Potter was perpetually wearing.
"Yes, yes, you hate my clothes," Potter snorted after Draco steered him towards a cheaper shop. One that Potter should have been happy to spend his money on.
"I'm just trying to do the world a favour. Merlin help those poor people who have to immortalise you at some point. All they'll have to go off are a few team photos and whatever this get up is," he gestured.
Potter rolled his eyes, "If you must know I'm holding out for another growth spurt. No use spending money when it's all going to be thrown away in a few months."
Draco bit his lip. He did everything he could possibly think of yet he still ended up saying, "No offence Potter, but you haven't grown since fifth year and I don't think it's going to happen again. Also, I'm pretty sure the average person stops growing at eighteen so," he yanked Potter a few steps back, herding him into the doorway, "Please do the wizarding, and muggle, world a favour and get yourself a decent shirt. We'll have a funeral for that one if it'll make you feel better but I honestly can't be seen with you like this." He'd seen more than a few looks directed their way. Did they think he was, what, taking advantage of a homeless kid? That was all he needed, these muggles turning on him too.
"Such a git," Potter muttered under his breath, yet he followed Draco inside.
That was where the cooperation ended. How Weasley and Granger had suffered through Potter's whining all these years was beyond his understanding. After five minutes of listening to constant 'no's' or 'can we do this another day', Draco gave up. He marched them out of there and told Potter outright, "If I'm arrested because they think I'm soliciting you I swear to Merlin I'll-" A rush of things came to mind. Things, a few years ago he'd have no problem saying. Now, he just found himself telling Potter, "I'll crash Weasley's wedding. See how happy they'll be when they see my face glaring at them the whole walk down the aisle."
Pathetic. They both knew it was pathetic but Potter had the grace not to mention it. Instead Potter took him to a wall overlooking a row of shops. The promise of ice cream was within his sights, and Draco focused on that as he braced himself for whatever this elaborate plan to get him outside came down to.
Except Potter could be a spineless git at times, meaning after a long, drawn out, "er…"
Draco was left to guess, and he knew there was only one thing that could have people, especially someone like Potter who had never been afraid to scream profanities at him before, hesitant. "Father's getting out isn't he?"
There was a brief moment of hesitation, then Potter nodded. "Four weeks. They're going to formally tell you on Friday, but Andromeda thought you should know before then."
He felt his nails clench into his palms. "Right." Mother was going to be, well, he didn't know what she was going to be. "I take it someone just let this information slip."
"There was a hearing." and Potter was always invited to those these days. "Since your dad defected-"
"That's bullshit." Defected? When had his father defected? When in all of that chaos did he once think of defecting? "I can't believe this." But he couldn't believe his own sentencing either. Mother's maybe. But his own? He wore the dark mark. He'd done things that would have landed anyone else in Azkaban yet here he was. His father must have done something, struck some sort of deal or weaseled his way into someone's good books because- because "This is ridiculous. Who the fuck decided that?"
"I-" There was an odd look on Potter's face, "I don't know. I was honestly just as shocked as you." Which he honestly hadn't expected.
"What, you thought I would be happy to have him out?" he could already predict what was coming. He felt sick. But public wasn't exactly the best place to have a meltdown. Or in front of Potter for that matter. "I think it's best I go home," he said, his voice only slightly wobbling.
"Okay," Potter said after a moment.
Draco left him there. Potter was an adult, he could apparate, so he left him there, and once Potter was out of sight he near ran the whole way home. The plan had been to find mother. Maybe write to Andromeda, make sure this was real. In the end he simply ended up in his room, staring at the wall opposite his bed. Hours he sat there, the light fading until darkness had set in, the creaks in his house becoming whispers, footsteps, screams that made his skin crawl.
The worst part was he had work the next day. He had work the entire four weeks leading up to his father's release. The urge to quit nearly overwhelmed him when he turned up to the stadium. He was going to end up doing it anyway. But courage had never been his strong suit. Meaning, he spent so long standing there, working up the words to say, the formal letter he would have to write, that he ended up wasting what little time he had to actually say it in. Before he knew it Peters was yelling at him to get on his broom, and Draco had been well trained enough to simply do as he was told that he didn't think, just followed. He did his drills all day, listened to the game plan they were going to be executing on their next match. He stared at the sky on his lunch break and went home when the day was done with no insinuation at all to Peters that he wasn't going to be here for long.
The next day was the same. The next after that as well. In fact, Draco made it to his next match without word coming up about his resignation. Potter didn't comment about any of it, strangely enough. Draco would have thought he'd use any excuse he could to ask about Lucius's return to society, yet lunch came and went and the most Potter did was tell him some anecdote about Teddy.
The eve of his next match he forced himself to pull himself together. His father wasn't out yet. Two weeks and then, well, then things might change, but for the time being Lucius was in Azkaban, Draco wasn't. So Draco wasn't going to quit. He didn't have to quit. He didn't want to quit was the thing. He liked his job. Even with Potter there he liked his job. It was a reason to get up, it made him happy. Tired beyond belief, but happy in a way he hadn't been in a while. So if tomorrow was his last match, so be it, but Draco would be damned if he didn't try and go out in a blaze of glory. Let them call him a Death Eater to his face all they liked, but he was a damn good Quidditch player too, and he was going to show that.
Hopefully.
He certainly forced himself to sleep, waking with a full eight hours under his belt and feeling like he could sleep a few hours more. He made it to the pitch on time however, forcing all thoughts, other than where the quaffle was, out of his head.
He wouldn't, afterwards, say it was the best game he'd ever played, but it hadn't been the worst either. He'd scored more than once too. Actually, it had mainly been a good game, great he would even deign to say, if it weren't for the bruises starting to come up on his skin.
He heard more than one person hiss when he dragged his Quidditch robe over his head. "Want me to fetch the healer?" Wood offered.
Draco shook his head, dumping his robe to the bench as he twisted to see his back. He couldn't see a lot, but what he could see mainly matched the front, that being a patch of red that was slowly darkening in colour. Patches of it were scratched up, some of it scabbed where it had clotted throughout the match. But, "I'm not too bad with healing spells," and he'd certainly gotten worse from a Quidditch match, second year coming to mind.
Potter's head popped around the corner, "I can go fetch Hermione if you don't want the fuss."
"For Merlin-" he took a deep breath, "I'm not dying, I can use a wand and I did pass my O.W.L's. I can handle a few bruises." And he certainly didn't want Granger to get her hands on him. He remembered how hard she could hit, and that had been years ago now. She'd grown since then.
"They should have been disqualified for that in any case," Wood piped up. "I swear that bludger had been tampered with."
Draco was inclined to believe it too. He wouldn't put it past someone in the crowd if not the players beforehand. But, "I survived. What's more I didn't fall," he grabbed a shirt, "which means they'll know for next time they're going to have to try harder than that if they want to get rid of me." If there was a next time. This just proved that maybe he should quit now before he gave Peters hope he wouldn't have to put the reserve in for the next game. Spelled or not spelled, people's fear of him were slowly waning. First it was a bludger, then it would be hexes. Draco was looking at an early grave if he continued down this line of work.
He folded his uniform, wondering if that would be his legacy in Quidditch. Bowed out because the pressure had started to ramp up. Would they call it smart or cowardice? He didn't think he wanted to find out. He was going to have to avoid any wizarding place he could until the media storm blew over.
If there was one. Draco honestly wasn't sure how popular his name was in the papers these days.
"Hey," Potter landed his uniform on top of Draco's, taking both of them under his arm, "So Andromeda said she wanted to take us to this new muggle place near London. But if you want to go somewhere else I can always take Ron and Hermione." Hint, it's going to be a talk about his father and Potter wanted to know if Draco wanted an audience to their family laundry or not.
"Probably for the best you go with your friends. Don't take this the wrong way but while you may have forgotten our little talk about looking appropriate in public I certainly haven't," he said, eyeing up the ratty shirt Potter was sporting.
"Such a snob," Potter snorted, running off to his friends before Draco could get another word in.
He only realised, after he'd been spirited away to some place quieter than an all you can eat buffet Andromeda had planned to take them, that Potter still had his uniform. Not that it mattered he supposed. He could just tell Potter to hand it in for him once he'd handed over his resignation to Peters.
"Here," a large glass of something sickly sweet smelling was placed in front of him, Andromeda sipping at her own glass. "You look like you need it."
"You know you're not supposed to encourage alcoholism," and Draco certainly wasn't going to start down that route either as he pushed the glass over to mother.
"Sometimes it's the only way to get through life," Andromeda said, a roll to her eyes. "Now are we going to talk about this?"
He saw his mother fiddle with the glass stem. "What's there to talk about? Father's getting out of prison." Big whoop. Now everything was going to go back to how it was. Well, sort of how it was.
Andromeda cleared her throat, Draco catching his mother make a face back at her. Then, "Draco, you know you don't have to be there, don't you?"
"Be there?"
"At the manor," mother explained. "You're twenty, you have a good job, you're more than capable of living on your own."
Valid points but, "I'm not just going to leave you there." since that was what it came down to. That was what it always came down to.
"Draco-"
"Are you leaving?" he checked.
"Well, no, but things are complicated-"
"Things are always complicated," He hissed, "that doesn't mean you can't leave."
"I need to sort some things out," She tried again.
"What things?" He challenged. "What could you possibly have to sort out with him?"
"It's complicated."
"You always say that." complicated. What was complicated about it? So she was married, so what? Muggles divorced every day. Sure, it wasn't as heard of in the wizarding world but it still happened. In fact, he was sure no one would blame his mother for filing for a divorce. Not that it mattered what people thought since mother didn't talk to enough people these days for her to care about their opinions. "I can't stay here." Their meals hadn't even come, and Draco wasn't hungry anymore. He'd pay for their next meal or slide some money their way at some point but he didn't want to have this conversation. Especially not in public.
So he left. He apparated back to the manor and locked himself in his bathroom. He hadn't even started the bath before he heard the door slam downstairs, his mother's shoes stomping up until she was banging on his door, then the bathroom door when she inevitably found that one empty. "Draco open this door."
"No." He started the tap, sitting on the side of the tub.
"Draco," she warned.
"I'm busy."
Another voice joined mother's, the two of them hissing to each other before mother, again, started, "We're going to have this conversation whether you like it or not so open this door."
"I'm indecent!" Leave, leave, leave.
"Fine! Then you're just going to have to listen." Another hushed conversation. "Your father is getting out of prison," like he was entirely unaware of why they were having this conversation, "And he's going to be coming back here. This is his home Draco. But it doesn't have to be yours."
"I'm not leaving."
"Yes you are," she snapped. "As soon as the weekend comes you're packing your bags and you're getting out of here."
Wait. "You can't do that!"
"I can and I am. If you don't move your things I'll move them for you," she threatened, then, quieter, "Darling you know what he's going to do if you're still living here when he gets out. You know how he is. And you're happy. You're so happy sweetheart and I don't want you to lose that. I… I need to stay. Just for a little while. But you don't, and I'm not going to let you suffer in this house if you don't have to."
"I don't want to leave you." She spoke so much about him but what about her? What about her nursery and the remodels she'd been doing? What about the telephone thing that Andromeda had brought her? The nights out. The muggle cooking and restaurants and- "I can't leave you here."
"Draco," Andromeda this time, "you know I won't let anything happen."
Did he? Did he really? So many people had promised him that in the past and where were they? What good had their promise done? "Please don't make me leave."
There was a beat of silence, then, "The weekend Draco." Leaving him little more to argue with.
That wasn't to say he didn't try and argue his case. He spent all night coming up with reasons and arguments about why he shouldn't leave. What he hadn't banked on was mother evading him that next morning. Or the patronus that near scared that life out of him from Potter telling him he was late.
Potter had the decency to shove his uniform at him when he finally got to the pitch. "I told Peters I stole your uniform. He's still pissed, but he's not murderous."
He didn't know what to do with that. So he didn't say anything, instead changing quickly and sprinting onto his broom. That morning was a nightmare. He got told off in front of everyone, was made an example of for unprofessionalism. Draco barely heard him. If Peters thought he was even the least bit intimidating he was wrong. Draco knew intimidating. Draco had grown up with intimidating and Peters, with all his yelling, maybe once he could have found a slither of fear inside of Draco and taken advantage of it, but not now.
Peters seemed to realise too at one point. Still, he kept on with his rant, if only to show no favouritism, before letting them go to lunch.
Potter didn't even keep his distance this time, walking right alongside Draco up the stand to the little nook he liked to suffer by. "I'm sorry, again," Potter said, "If I haven't already said sorry that is. I honestly didn't realise I had it until Sunday, and then I figured you'd probably just wear your spare."
He didn't say anything, falling, instead, onto his bench. Mother was probably going to avoid him when he got back. She'd avoid him until the weekend, he just knew it, which meant he wouldn't have a chance of telling her he wasn't moving out. She was probably already moving some of his things now, while he wasn't around to complain or move them back.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to be living with Andromeda. Something he didn't actually hate the idea of. He wouldn't mind spending more time with Teddy. They lived in one of those muggle houses too, with the telephones and tvs and stuff. No long hallways. No dead birds buried in the back garden. No, he was leaving mother to that. To that and father. He was an awful son.
Potter was rambling. Draco could hear his voice like white noise drifting in and out of his ears as he felt sorry for himself. At least until Potter nudged him, Draco finally able to hear Peters calling them down to start training again.
He had to do laps that afternoon while the others flew. The running was actually kind of nice. It tired him out so much that he didn't think, just focused on not looking like a wimp who couldn't run a few laps in front of everyone else. His legs felt like lead when he was done, Draco stretching as much as he could but even he knew he was going to have trouble getting up tomorrow.
The hours passed more easily after that. He fell back into his routines, his drills and plays and studiously didn't think about just what his mother was moving to Andromeda's back home. Work had to come to an end at some point however, Peters telling him, again, not to be late tomorrow as he waved the rest of the team off. Which meant at least one thing was still consistent right now, Draco wasn't quitting. He had a perfect opportunity to do so and he didn't take it, which meant he was moving into Andromeda's. He was leaving his mother.
His shoulder was nudged on his way out, Wood's voice asking, "You coming to the pub?" like it wasn't a Monday.
"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be drinking on a work night," Draco told him.
Wood waved him off, "It's Martin's birthday." Martin… reserve chaser, he placed. "He's turning the big one eight, which means muggle booze cruise." Wood even did a little dance, Draco feeling the first smile in a long time stretch across his face.
"Love to, can't."
Wood rolled his eyes, "Look, if you don't want to drink, you don't have to. I keep telling you, just come for the craic."
Tempting. It would save him trying to look for his mother who was probably hiding even as she left some sort of dinner out for him he was going to have to eat alone. But, "I'm er, I'm moving in with my aunt at the weekend. I should really go home and sort stuff." He'd never had to move before. What the hell did he even do? Use a shrinking charm? A backpack?
There was an odd look on Wood's face when he said, "Oh really?" Then, "huh. So you're finally moving out of the manor?"
"Had to happen some time." Draco had always thought it would be when he was seventeen. Him and Blaise, maybe Crabb, would get a place in London. He'd have some swank job in the Ministry that earned him way more than he knew what to do with and he went home every night complaining about a bad back and missing quills. It would all be temporary, of course, until father retired him and mother to one of their houses abroad and Draco moved in with some woman he'd been set up with and their one, maybe two, children.
Weird how things didn't always go to plan.
"Wait, your aunt?" came to his right, Potter appearing like some sort of spectre, just waiting for Draco to say the right trigger words. "Wh- is this about…?" his eyes went larger like that finished his sentence off.
Thankfully Draco knew the context of it all so he didn't have to spend a year deciphering this weird language Potter thought he spoke. "Yes. And mother has kindly informed me that I am to leave and continue with my life as it is now so."
"Huh," Potter said, falling into step with him.
"Am I missing something?" Wood asked.
"No," Draco answered before Potter could make some half brained excuse. "And again, I'm sorry I won't be there to scare the living daylights out of whoever you've invited to this booze cruise."
Wood had the good sense to know when to leave things alone since he said, "Suit yourself," and went to catch up with the others.
"Booze cruise?" Potter asked.
"Wood's determined to get me drunk." Draco knew it was because Wood was curious what sort of drunk Draco was. He was rather curious himself, but, again, slippery slope. "I'm surprised you're not going."
"Can't," Potter sighed, hefting his broom onto his shoulder, "Ron has me helping with wedding stuff now the engagement is firmly out of the way. Apparently because I just 'play quidditch all day' they think I have time to pick up samples and- and you don't care so I'll stop talking."
"Wise of you," Draco nodded.
"But you're moving in with Andromeda?" Potter asked again.
"Yes." And that was that. Potter didn't need to know the whys of it all. "No doubt you'll be seeing a lot more of me if you spend half as much time with Teddy as I fear, so, sorry I guess."
They walked a few more feet closer to the apparition point, "I didn't mean it like th-"
"I don't care how you meant it Potter." He took a deep breath, forcing himself not to start. He wasn't in school anymore. What's more he had to work with Potter, he couldn't just lay into the man like he might have once done. It wasn't like it was Potter's fault anyway. So, "I'm sorry."
"'S fine," Potter mumbled, the two of them parting ways after that.