Chapter 10 Consequences
Draco awoke the next morning with a low throbbing penetrating the base of his aching skull. His eyes and throat were scratchy with the effects of dehydration. He moaned as the light broke into his eyes, a new pain reverberating in his head. He gripped his face, trying to shield himself from the painful light morning had brought.
Light. He felt a stab of panic as he groped wildly for his clock. He strained his eyes to make out the time on the enchanted object. 8:03 a.m. Merlin! Its already this late! Draco had neglected, of course, to charm it with any sort of alarm before going to sleep, as he didn't usually need one anyways. Between his constant nightmares and endless anxiety, he was lucky if he slept passed six.
He jumped out of bed and was scrambling for his robes when he happened upon the now-empty bottle of Firewhiskey. It had been a rather large bottle, a litre. The hollow bottle glinted sharply in the early morning's rays. Looking at it, Draco stopped dead in his tracks. Harry. The thought illicited a peculiar feeling, but before it could surface a stronger emotion flooded him. He dropped to his knees as felt the deeply coiled knot in the pit of his stomach stirring; the quake of remembrance taking over.
He had kissed Harry. He'd sat there in amicable silence with the clearly-stressed boy for the better part of an hour passing the large bottle of whiskey back and forth, then he'd practially attacked him. How could I be so stupid! All of his doubts from the previous night came rushing back, along with his memories of where he'd gone afterward. He was really kicking himself now. His memories of his visit to Professor Albatross were where his memory really seemed to blur out. He was just positive however that he'd cried lamely at the teacher like a total loser. His mind flickered to the burning honey-gold eyes of the professor's, once again feeling the small tug of another feeling that refused to come to light. However, no matter how desperately he racked his brain, he remembered nothing but finally climbing into bed that night.
His picked up the bottle, still pondering, having completely forgot about his mad dash to class. This time a different thought struck him. Do I like Harry Potter? Draco wondered, disgusted with himself. When did I let myself get so wrapped up in him? Why can't I just be a normal guy, have a normal life, he agonized. I know why. Its because I'm worthless. Just a worthless fag and a coward. Draco was quavering as he caught himself crumbling. ENOUGH of this weak nonsense! he raged at himself. I'm a MALFOY. The last thought hitched in his brain causing him to cringe when he thought of what being a Malfoy now meant.
Somberly this time Draco readied himself for class, eventually snaking into Potions at the last second.
Harry fidgeted uncontollably in his seat. He wasn't sure how to act or what to say to Draco after what had transpired. He was sure the blonde was quite pissed with him, but why? After all, he hadn't done anything wrong. It had been Draco who'd kissed him, hadn't it? It's not my fault I'm not gay, he thought his mind drifting back to the hazy moment of the kiss. In truth, he couldn't really remember who kissed who, just the warm, gentle pressure of Draco's pink lips. He trembled slightly at the memory. It had felt good. But everything had felt good. Harry hadn't realised until this morning just how drunk he'd gotten. He'd gone to the common room and found Ron, Hermoine, and Neville throwing looks and snickers his way. He tried to remember what happened after Draco stormed out but only bits and pieces that didn't seem to make sense came to mind.
However, his freind wasted no time filling him in. Apparently he'd been quite a laugh, falling into giggles at simple sights, making up false stories to scare off the annoying first years, brooding about SOMETHING Draco did that he just wouldn't share. It had been quite a comical sight for everyone in the common roon, really. First Draco had burst forth from the suite, stark-white and snarling, running off into the castle. A few minutes later Harry appeared, poking his head cautiously out the door. The gang had watched him with suspicious faces as he'd carefully tip toed over to where they were hanging out. It didn't take the long to realise he was drunk, which made the speculations over what might have occured all the more interesting that night.
Now he was trying (and failing) to just forget about it and concentrate on his work. The concious knowledge that this beguiling vixen was currently seated behind him, with much unresolved tension, was killing him. Harry knew he would have to talk to him eventually, but he had no idea what to say. How he wished he could just pretend it didn't happen.
He spent the rest of the day lamenting his awkwardness with Draco, still undecided on what to do, when the Draco himself pulled Harry aside.
"Look, Potter, about yesterday," he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the floor. "It was a mistake." He blurted out all at once. "I was just drunk, it didn't mean anything, so lets just forget it." A bit of unfiltered sadness came through in his voice.
"Yeah," Harry said, nodding in agreement. "It was nothing. It didn't happen."
Draco turned his face up to meet Harry's with a weak smile. "Great." He had meant to sound confident but the word escaped instead as a whisper. Fearing his voice would betray him again he turned and left soundlessly.
