Part 3 - Spring, 2006
The man wasn't attractive - not what Johnny would define as attractive, anyway, and definitely not to Draco's taste. He was too scrawny, for one, too wiry, looking almost under-fed. His shock of jet black hair had no elegance in it, none of the shape and form Draco always liked. And his clothes were even less elegant - he was wearing an old faded t-shirt of some band and trousers that had seen better days.
But there was something about him. That was what made Johnny notice him in the first place. Something in the mischievous smile, or the absolutely calm way he threw himself at the stool and surveyed the room, as if he didn't have a care in the world. There was some sort of self assuredness in him, the kind that could be mistaken as that brand of simple magnetism that just drew the eye.
He wouldn't have bothered, had it not been obvious that the man had noticed Draco. He was sitting in the same spot for half an hour, his eyes fixed on the dance floor, fixed on Draco. Johnny cursed his leg again - if he hadn't sprained his ankle, he would have been up there on the dance floor with Draco, rather than down here, next to the bar, drinking whiskey and learning how people around were noticing his boyfriend.
Another song, another dance, and that bloke simply wasn't taking his eyes off Draco. This had gone far enough, Johnny thought and decided to go and have a word. Just to make sure he didn't get the wrong idea.
"Hey," he said as he sat down on an empty barstool. Between the dark room and the loud music, he wasn't quite sure whether the man would even know he was there, let along hear him. But he did - he smiled, said "Hello", and tilted his head at the barman, as if asking, Buy you a drink?
"Nah," he said.
The man shrugged. "You're with him, right?" he gestured at the dance floor, at Draco. There was a trace of accent to his voice - like he had been born somewhere else and lived in London most of his life, or perhaps, born there but had lived a substantial amount of time out of the country.
"Yeah. Noticed you were looking," Johnny couldn't help but be honest.
The black-haired man laughed, and there was something infectious about his laughter. "Look, don't touch," he said. "Gotcha."
Now Johnny was feeling a bit ridiculous. "I didn't mean to come off all - "
"Nah, it's alright," the man didn't even let him finish the sentence. "Makes perfect sense. He's an attractive man. How come you're not there with him?"
"My stupid ankle," Johnny admitted.
"Ah. That's a shame." The man looked him up and down some more. "Actually, you're not bad looking yourself, you know."
Now Johnny laughed, too. "I'm kinda taken, too."
The man's green eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "Don't worry. Duly noted," he said. "Look, don't touch."
"Something like that, yeah."
He certainly looked - there wasn't any conscious attempt at seduction in his eyes when he measured Johnny up and down quietly, but the more he did that, the more attractive Johnny found him. Johnny shook his head and turned to look back at Draco. He always had a soft spot for those guys who had this effortless confidence. That was how he found himself drawn to Draco in the first place. Draco had that same confidence, or rather, what Johnny learned later, arrogance that had disguised itself so well as confidence. By the time he had met him his family was already poor and down on their luck, but the way he was raised still left room for nothing but the absolute self-assurance that he had a right to be there and that things would work in his favour.
Johnny wondered quietly whether it was the same with this guy, and stole another glance at him. He was now back with his drink in his hand, back to looking at Draco. His confidence didn't feel like Draco's - there wasn't anything like Draco's self-satisfied smirk, for example, nor did he stand as if he owned the place, the way Draco often did. No, Green Eyes simply leaned there on the bar, looking at Draco, as if there was no reason not to do so.
Johnny returned his eyes to Draco.
"Tell Malfoy I said hi," he heard the voice next to him and jumped. By the time he looked around - only a split second after he registered the meaning of those words - Green Eyes had already gone. Disappeared into thin air. Wizards!
By the time Draco dropped next to him on the same barstool and ordered a drink, it was as if the wizard had never been there.
Johnny spent the next three days wondering whether he should tell Draco about the man. He didn't know who it was, of course, but he had no doubt Draco would recognise the description. Something in the encounter stopped him from telling him straight away, though. Not just the fact that the man had been looking at Draco all that time. No, it was more the way he had said those last words. 'Tell Malfoy I said hi'... There was some sort of familiarity there that had Johnny worried. And then the three days had passed and it didn't matter anymore whether he would tell him or not.
It was Ron's birthday, and Hermione had been working for two whole weeks, trying to make it perfect. They were spending the weekend with his family, but on the actual day she had set up a small party, just for their best friends, in their London flat. Johnny and Draco, of course, had got there fashionably late - as they always did.
"I swear," Johnny sighed for the fifth time, "I have never met someone as vain as you are."
"What? What's wrong with looking good?"
"Draco, you've got about three sets of decent robes in your wardrobe, and they've seen them all."
"Ah, but not this combination."
Johnny declined to continue the conversation. It couldn't go anywhere he'd want it to go. Instead, he rang the doorbell.
There was no reply.
Confused, he rang it again. They could hear voices from within the house - people were already there, Hermione was definitely there, and yet, no one seemed to hear their ringing.
"Maybe they're - " Draco started, and was cut off by a loud laughter that came from within the house - "busy."
Johnny tried the doorknob - faster, he thought, than ringing the doorbell a third time - but the door was locked. Draco raised an eyebrow and pulled out his wand. A tap on the door and it opened up.
"Nice," Johnny said. There were definitely benefits to dating a wizard. Magic was only one of them, but it was a major one.
They walked inside, greeted by another burst of delighted laughter - Hermione's.
"Hello," Draco called, announcing their presence just before they walked into the living room.
Johnny stopped on the spot. The unknown man on the sofa, surrounded by all of their friends, was the same man from the pub. The same dark, messy hair, the same glasses, the same lack of style, although now it was in wizard's robes rather than Muggle clothing. The same confident, mischievous smile, while everyone else around him was roaring with laughter.
A small glance at Draco told him he hadn't been wrong. Draco was rooted to his place, staring at the man with disbelief in his eyes. His face seemed to move between shades faster than should be possible - first a deep red, then, just as quickly, completely white, as if all the blood was drained out of it.
He knew then who the man was, knew with stomach all of a sudden full of lead, a split second before Hermione noticed them and got up, delighted, saying, "Oh, Draco! Look who's here - Johnny! You haven't actually ever met Harry, have you?"
If Potter told his old friends where he had been all that time, he had done so before they arrived. Johnny suspected he didn't - a question here and there, a comment, and it seemed that Potter had not actually shared anything about his whereabouts or the things he did. It was obvious he had not stayed in the UK from his accent, but other than that, nothing was certain.
And Johnny, allowing him and his old friends their space and their reunion, watching from the side, had noticed he had hardly talked at all. Mainly, it seemed, he was interested in listening, in learning what had happened to his friends all that time. He would sit there, half the time hugged with Hermione, the other side by side with Ron, encouraged them to talk more, to show him wedding pictures, to tell him what they were doing and how had things been, turning to Neville and Luna and Ginny and Dean, and all that time he listened.
Even with Draco - Johnny had seen them talking when the evening and alcohol had settled in and everyone was a little bit tired and not really paying attention anymore.
"How are things going?" Potter asked Draco quietly.
"Fine," Draco answered stiffly.
"Your parents?"
"You know. Still living in denial, like always. Father's as insufferable as always."
Johnny had perked up his ears. By now, he had heard enough about Potter to know of the bad blood between him and Lucius Malfoy, the kind of bad blood that had even dwarfed Lucius' distaste and contempt towards Johnny.
"I'm sorry," Potter said quietly.
"Yeah."
"I take it they're not thrilled about Johnny?"
"Guess."
Potter sighed. "Look on the bright side, Malfoy; at least it doesn't matter if they take you out of their will."
And that was all it took. Just like that, with one silly, sarcastic comment, Draco was roaring with laughter, and the conversation between them became animated and - Johnny noticed - much more intimate.
He got up. All of a sudden, he wanted to check if there was some more wine left in the kitchen. Or something to eat. Or even wash the dishes, preferably with the water coming as loud as possible out of the tap. Anything but listen to the two of them talking.
Hermione was already there, putting things back into the fridge, sending the dishes to get themselves washed with her wand. She was moving around the room so lightly, almost dancing with happiness.
"Johnny!" she said with a smile when she saw him.
"Just wondering if there's some more wine," he mumbled.
"Oh, sure," she flicked her wand, and a bottle came flying out of one of the cupboards. "Madam Rosmerta's finest oak mature mead - you want to taste it, it's wonderful. I was just thinking of taking it out with some chocolates."
"Just what everyone needs to fall asleep," he said, not really feeling like smiling.
He uncorked the bottle and poured some of it into a clean glass. He stood up then back from the counter, but only then realised he chose exactly the wrong spot to stand. From where he was, he had direct line of sight to Draco, who was still deep in conversation with Potter. They were both sitting on the carpet, leaning on the sofa where Ron, already drunk, was snoring lightly. One of Draco's hands was supporting his head; the other was on Potter's leg. It was nothing conscious, Johnny knew - he knew Draco well enough to know his seduction moves, and this wasn't one of them.
Somehow, it just made it worse.
Something of that train of thought must have shown on his face. Hermione's smile froze slightly, and she looked at him curiously, then through the open door, until her gaze fell on Draco on Potter. Her lips looked thinner all of a sudden.
"Who's up for some more of Madam Rosmerta's mead?"
Johnny jumped; he had not expected her to speak so loudly, not when most of the room was half asleep.
"Hermione, you're the most wonderful person on the planet," Potter said in response. Both he and Draco were still sitting on the floor, but for some reason the distance between them looked bigger now. Draco's hand was definitely not anywhere near Potter anymore. Johnny felt a rush of gratitude towards Hermione, and went back to the room to join the rest.
He sat next to Draco, embracing him slightly. To his relief, Draco didn't try to get away from the embrace, but put his own hand on Johnny's shoulder. Hermione, in the meantime, was delivering chocolates and glasses of the mead - which really was the best thing Johnny had ever tasted - rich and thick and sweet, with a touch of nutmeg.
Once she was sure everyone had a glass, she put the near empty bottle on the table and told Draco pleasantly but firmly, "Budge up, will you?" She then sat right between him and Potter.
"Where have you been, Harry?" she asked Potter quietly.
"Here and there," he said, a generic response that wasn't an answer at all.
"We were worried about you."
"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry."
"You could have sent an owl, a message... something."
He shook his head and took a long sip of the mead. "I couldn't, Hermione. I'm sorry."
"Why not?" she insisted.
Johnny hazarded a glance to Draco. His eyes were fixed on Potter, drinking in every word. His face was slightly flushed, and Johnny had a strong suspicion it wasn't because of the alcohol. He turned his eyes to Potter, too.
Potter didn't answer. Instead, he stared at the fire, playing with his wand.
"No one blamed you for what happened with Yaxley."
"It was self defence."
"Exactly," she said. "You should have realised it then."
His laughter was soft, but there was a trace of bitterness in it. "I did understand it back then. It wasn't because I killed Yaxley."
"So what was it, then?"
He hesitated for a moment. "It was because I had to kill Yaxley."
Hermione didn't pursue the topic further. Johnny was left utterly confused, feeling even more like an intruder between his own friends.
-X-
They Apparated back home. It irritated Draco a bit, because it required concentration, and his head was full of other things. But they didn't have much choice - they had left Johnny's car parked when they went.
The familiar compression feeling engulfed him. He managed to dredge up enough concentration to show up back in their living room, but it had taken more time than usual.
"Uh, Draco?" Johnny said a moment after they appeared again.
"Yeah," Draco said, hoping he wouldn't talk too much about whatever it was. Probably a recap of the party. Draco didn't need a recap of the party. He needed some time to think.
"Your finger's bleeding."
"What?" Draco threw a look at his hand. Johnny was right - a fingernail was missing, and he was bleeding from the tip of his finger. He had managed to splinch himself while Apparating. He swore loudly.
"You want something for it? I think we have some plasters in the bathroom..."
"No, I'll fix this," he said and pulled out his wand. So stupid. He'd been so distracted that he managed to splinch himself. Honestly. He swore again, then aimed the wand and said the incantation. "See, much easier. Next time you sprain your ankle, you should let me fix it."
"No, I think I'll stick to bandages," Johnny answered. Muggles and their hang-ups.
All Muggle hang-ups and Apparition injuries were gone from Draco's head as he went into the shower. Potter was back. He had worried so many times, what things would be like between them if he ever showed up again, even long after he'd given up the hope he'd ever show up at all. Tonight he had his answer, and it warmed his heart. They didn't go back to the old rivalries. They didn't go back to the old hatred. No, it looked a lot more like those last few weeks before he disappeared - something that could even pass as friendship. Draco was so childish back then, so self-absorbed. He didn't know what friendship looked like, what proper relationships with people looked like.
Spending all that time with Ron and Hermione changed all that. He almost laughed in the shower - there was no reason to go back to the old hatred, of course there wasn't. As it turned out, now Potter's friends were Draco's friends, too. More than that - Draco knew them much better these days than Potter did.
That was an odd turn of events, wasn't it, he mused as he soaped himself under the water. Potter had missed eight whole years, eight years in which his old school friends grew and changed and Draco was there for that bit, he knew them through the changes and changed with them. It was Potter who was the stranger now.
Before he even realised it he was all clean. He jumped out of the shower full of energy, as if it weren't 1 a.m. and he wasn't half drunk. Still drying his hair, he stepped back to the bedroom.
Johnny was still standing there, his arms crossed, just as he had been when Draco walked into the shower. "I was in the middle of the sentence," he said, and Draco could detect a trace of annoyance in his voice.
"Were you? Sorry, I was a bit distracted."
"Yes," Johnny's nostrils flared. "I've noticed."
Draco froze. The trace of annoyance wasn't a trace at all. It was pronounced and present. And it wasn't quite annoyance - more like rage. Johnny was standing there, shaking with anger.
What on earth did he do? "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to ignore you, I was just - "
"Distracted, yes."
"Look, I'm tired, I've had way too much to drink, and I need to wake up early for work tomorrow. Whatever it is, it can wait." He crawled into the warm blankets, not checking to see if Johnny followed him.
It didn't take the wizarding world a long time to realise Potter was back. Someone must have seen him in Diagon Alley, or the Ministry, or Hogsmeade - or, really, in any other place where wizards were. Harry Potter was instantly recognisable - barring Polyjuice Potion or his invisibility cloak, of course. In the old days, it would have annoyed Draco. Now, however, he read the Prophet avidly every morning, listened intently to the WWN, and paid his full attention to the gossip at the office. Potter was everywhere; it seemed the entire wizarding world was just as interested as Draco was in where he had been, what he had done, and what he was going to do now. Draco ,however, was in a better position than most, seeing as how unlike the rest of the wizarding world, he was friends with Potter. Or, at least, friends with his friends.
Needless to say, he had waited that entire week with mounting anticipation to Hermione's next dinner, and she didn't disappoint - the next weekend was another such dinner, and Draco was sure Potter would be there too.
They came in Johnny's car this time. Johnny had suggested it, and Draco leapt on the offer. He didn't want to take the risk of splinching again, and throughout the entire week he had been just as distracted as during that first evening. He knew why, of course - Potter would be there again.
At Ron and Hermione's, Johnny seemed to find Hermione immediately and then proceeded to talk to her throughout the entire evening. Draco didn't much care - it gave him a better chance to speak with Potter. It wasn't like they talked about anything important, of course - mainly jokes, ridiculous stories, hearing from Neville about Hogwarts or the regular Ministry round-up, as so many of them there were employed by the Ministry. He didn't mind. He'd have a chance to tell Potter everything he wanted to say later on. Right now, it was enough just to talk about the silly things, as long as they were talking.
He grew irritated when Hermione insisted on sitting between them, or when Ron started reminiscing with Harry about anything and everything from their Hogwarts days. He couldn't say anything - what would he say, really? Please stop talking about how your friendship is much stronger than anything I'd ever have with Potter? Please stop talking about all those incidents from the time I was busy hating your guts?
He nipped to the loo for what he thought was a moment, some point late in the evening. He was surprised to discover, when he got back, that Potter and Hermione were both missing. They must be in the kitchen, he thought, and started to walk towards it. He froze when he heard his name.
"Draco's got a good thing going on with Johnny," said Hermione.
"Mmhm," said her unseen interlocutor, which was probably Potter.
"They really are good together, Harry. Draco's changed - you can't imagine how much he's changed, just in these four years. Don't ruin it."
"Ruin it?"
"Don't pretend you haven't noticed, Harry. You know if you say the word he'll come running. He'll do it with sarcasm and sneering to satisfy his Malfoy pride -" Draco didn't like the sneering way she said 'Malfoy' - "but he'll throw it all away just the same on the off chance he'd get to be with you."
The resentment was rising in Draco. Who was she to talk about him like that?
"You were never a selfish man, Harry," Hermione continued. "Don't start now."
"You don't understand," Potter said quietly.
"What?" came Hermione's answer. "That you're just back for a week and already everyone's going on the same way as they did before?"
"I'm not this great saviour they all make me up to be," Potter said, the resentment in his voice almost matching the one in Draco's heart. "I couldn't take it then, and I don't think I can take it now, and I hoped all this time would be enough to make them forget but they just won't stop."
"And you want this relationship because you feel like he's the one who looks at you and sees only you?"
Draco's smile, that had become wide with that last sentence, was erased completely from his face when he heard the next one.
"... You don't really know Draco at all, do you," Hermione stated softly.
He slammed the door open, knowing his face was flushed and angry but for once he didn't care. Both Hermione and Potter jumped - it was almost like they had forgotten there were other people in the house.
In the back of his mind, Draco was pleased that the look on Potter's face when he had walked in was also irritated. Hermione was back to her know-it-all ways, but she didn't know all about him, he thought, full of resentment. She didn't know all about Potter, either, and she didn't know all about the two of them together.
"Hi, Draco," she said, her voice slightly higher than usual.
"Hi," he said coldly. He walked towards the tap, as if to take a drink of water, but made sure to brush Potter's neck with his fingers on his way. He could feel Potter shifting slightly in his seat, reacting just a little bit to his touch. Smirking to himself, he stretched over to find a glass, bent over to reach the tap, drank noisily, and left the room again. He knew Potter was watching his every move.
"It's getting late, Draco," Johnny's voice greeted him when he got back into the living room. "Time we were off?"
"I don't know, I'm still enjoying the party," Draco said untruthfully. A quick glance around the room only served to confirm it as a lie - Ron was snoring on the sofa again. Neville was nodding off on Luna's shoulder. Ginny and Dean were already preparing to leave.
Johnny was unimpressed with the transparent excuse. "It's 1:30. I'm knackered. And I need to wake up in 5 hours."
"Then go home, I'll get there later."
Johnny got up so quickly that he nearly turned the chair over. "Fine," he said and picked up his car keys so fast that if Draco hadn't known better, he'd have thought he Summoned them.
Johnny's leaving signalled the death of the party. Five minutes later, Draco stepped out of the door mumbling his own goodbyes, but mostly, he was trying to avoid Hermione's glare as she stood at the doorframe, her arms crossed and her eyes pinned to him in undisguised anger.
Draco's discomfort was soon forgotten - he had realised that Potter was walking down the street next to him.
"You know, Potter, I still feel like drinking," he said.
"I think I got a bottle of firewhiskey at home," Potter said with a small smile.
"Excellent."
-X-
This time, it was Draco who stayed awake. He didn't think Potter would run off, not again, but still, he felt more comfortable staying up, watching the sleeping man beside him. Perhaps to convince himself it was real.
It was real. The messy hair was unmistakably Potter's, as was the face underneath it. Draco looked at it in the soft light that entered the room from the corridor - the slightly sharp chin, the slightly-too-large nose, the eyes - now closed, green underneath the eyelids. And of course, the scar on the forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt.
Out of a whim, he moved his hand; his finger hovered slightly above the scar, then went back to caress the cheek. Potter shuddered from his touch. His shoulders tensed, his face darkened, and he pulled himself tighter, as if trying to become smaller. Draco immediately sent back his hand, but it took long minutes before Potter relaxed again, before peace returned to his sleep.
Draco watched him a little longer, studying him intently. Now he could see that Potter wasn't really relaxed, didn't seem to have a truly peaceful sleep. Even after Draco's fleeting touch was forgotten, whatever had haunted Potter's sleep was still present. He could see it in his face - not completely relaxed; in his back muscles - slightly contracted still; in the white of his knuckles. Potter during night was so different from daylight-Potter. When he was awake, he looked and acted completely in control. Harry Potter, who had defeated Dark Lords and dragons and Dementors and who knew what else, who nothing could touch. When he was asleep, Draco had rather thought he seemed much less self-assured.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it broke his heart, and not out of pity for Potter.
He must have fell asleep eventually, because he woke up with a start when Potter shook him roughly. "Oi! Malfoy!"
"Wha -" Draco mumbled. It didn't feel like he had slept more than a minute or two. He blinked and opened his eyes, trying to fight the strong light coming in from the window. Potter had already taken a shower, and was now drying his hair with an oddly fluffy towel.
"I think you need to go to work soon," he said, then threw his wet towel half on the bed, half on Draco himself. "Fetch me my trousers, will you?"
Draco, who did not appreciate being hit by the towel, threw it back at Potter. He laughed and dodged it, and then went closer to Draco again to take his trousers himself.
"What time is it?" Draco asked.
"Eight."
"What?" Draco jumped out of the bed, fully awake. "How d'you mean eight, I need to be at work in fifteen minutes!"
Potter gave him an amused smile. "Next time, look less cute when you're sleeping. C'mon, I need to get out too."
His entire morning had gone in an unproductive haze of thinking about the night before. With the exception of his supervisor telling him off for not arriving in the proper robes, it was the perfect morning. But then came lunch time, and just before he'd had the chance to ask some of his colleagues whether they felt like going out somewhere, Hermione showed up at his desk.
"Lunch?" she asked brightly, so brightly that he was already suspicious of her intentions. But lunch was lunch, and she was one of his best friends, and he couldn't quite refuse, not on the hunch that this would not end well.
Surprisingly, it took fifteen whole minutes of friendly chit-chat before anything uncomfortable was said.
"By the way," she said quietly, "Johnny called me this morning. He wanted to know where you were."
Draco swallowed. "What did you say?" he said, his voice much calmer than he felt.
"I said you fell asleep at our place."
A rush of gratitude hit him, mixed with surprise. "Thanks, Hermione! You're a life saver, you're - " he said.
"Don't do it again. I won't cover for you a second time."
He didn't respond to that - there was nothing to say, really.
"I assume," she continued after a moment's silence, "you went over to Harry's?"
"Yeah. We still felt like drinking, and he said he had some firewhiskey." Draco looked at his food. They never even made it to opening the bottle, but he'd be damned if he admitted it to her.
She didn't ask, though. Next time he checked, she was looking at him, a strange expression on her face.
"What?" he demanded.
"Do you remember what my first impression of Johnny was?"
"You kinda liked him, didn't you?"
"Actually, I didn't quite understand what he saw in you," she said honestly. "I thought he was bound to dump you once he got to know you better."
"Thanks. You're making me feel loads better."
"Good, because you need to listen to this. 'Cause Johnny's the best thing that's ever happened to you - he changed you, Draco, and he changed you for the better. And in the last week or so, you've been..."
"What? I've been what, exactly?"
"More like you used to be."
He didn't answer. He wanted to shout at her and tell her she was wrong and being ridiculous and why was she ruining this for him, but he couldn't. He had to admit that he didn't even think about Johnny before she mentioned his name. And then he thought of Harry's words to Hermione the night before.
"You're wrong," he said. "This isn't me being selfish and self-centred and spoilt. Harry needs - someone," he almost said 'me', but decided not to. Even he could tell that it wouldn't make his point about not being selfish any stronger. "Aren't you his friend? Much more than my friend, that's what you guys keep on reminding me, so can't you see it?"
She got up. "Whatever Harry needs, you can't give him." And then, perhaps feeling she was too harsh, her voice softened somewhat. "I am your friend, Draco. So take it as a friendly advice. You need Johnny a lot more than you need Harry. Let Harry go. He's not going to be yours, no matter what happens. Not the way you want, anyway."
Draco watched her go in silence.
-X-
Draco worked late that day. He didn't really want to go back home. Coward, he told himself as he realised he had been staring at the last, finished report for fifteen minutes, anything not to hand it in and go home. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he was going back to the way he used to be. To being a coward.
With a flick of his wand, he handed in the report and stepped outside of the office. Time to go.
When he got home, the house was dark. For a moment, Draco's heart was full of fear - had Johnny left? But the house had the unmistakable scent of cooking hanging around the air. Draco went to the kitchen, hopeful for some dinner, but the kitchen was dark as well. Any dinner was already had; Johnny's dirty dishes and empty pasta pot were in the sink, unwashed. Can't he wash his dishes, Draco thought angrily automatically, and then caught himself. This was not really the moment to think that. At least Johnny hadn't left.
He found him in the bedroom, reading a book. Draco recognised it from the colourful cover - it was by a Muggle who was fond of writing his idea of wizards. Draco never saw the point.
"Hi," he said, standing at the doorway.
Johnny didn't raise his eyes from the book.
Draco took a deep breath, then walked to the bed and sat, tentatively, on the edge. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"You weren't here when I woke up," Johnny said, his eyes still fixed on the book.
"I know."
"I called Hermione. She said you fell asleep there in the end."
"Yeah."
"Was she lying?"
It was a no-brainer, really. "Yeah."
Johnny took his eyes off the book at last. "Thanks," he said.
"For what?"
"For being honest. I knew she was lying. It was a stupid lie."
Draco smiled. "She's got this crazy idea, Hermione. She thinks I deserve another chance with you."
Johnny didn't smile back. Draco's eyes wandered to the cover of the book, in which an oddly-shaped wizard in a ridiculous hat was brandishing something that didn't really look like a wand at a creature that looked even less like a dragon.
"What about Harry Potter?" Johnny asked, still calm. Draco was finding the Muggle version of dragons very interesting indeed. "I know that I knew what I was getting into. I can live with being second best, Draco, and let's admit it, I don't have much choice, not next to Harry Bloody Potter. But I can't do - this."
"I know," he said quietly.
"I thought you and I were -" Johnny swallowed. "I'm sorry, but I have no interest in being with you just to make you respectable enough for him."
"Is that what you think?" Draco stared at him - he shouldn't be surprised, of course, he knew. He had never given Johnny a reason to think otherwise.
"Look, Johnny," Draco now sat at the edge of the bed. "You were never supposed to be my road to salvation. He was. I had this crazy dream that we could save each other."
"And now?"
"I don't want to live in dreams anymore."
Johnny didn't answer.
Draco took a deep breath. "Malfoys don't apologise. And we don't beg," he said, and then looked up to Johnny and licked his lip nervously. "Johnny - please. I'm sorry."
Johnny nodded for a moment, then picked up the book again.
"Why do you read about these... wizards?" Draco had to ask.
"They're a lot like your lot," Johnny allowed himself a smile. "Completely mental."
Draco laughed. "Yeah, I guess we are. Budge up, it's cold in here," he said and crawled under the blankets. He couldn't find his own book, so he ended up reading over Johnny's shoulder. The subject of Harry Potter didn't come up again between them.
Draco kept on reading about Potter in the Prophet in the next couple of weeks - the paper was full of rumours and speculations about what Potter would do next, whether he would return to the Auror office, whether he should be given the position of Minister of Magic. Other rumours were printed about his whereabouts in the past eight years: Rita Skeeter claimed that he was the reason that American dark wizard disappeared; 'a Ministry insider' heavily hinted that the recent disturbances with the goblins had been won thanks to him; on the WWN, a talk-show host talked about the dragon colony that went wild in Romania. On and on and on it went, and in the end, Draco didn't pay much attention to those rumours. Some of them he knew to be false. The others, he discovered he didn't really want to know.
He'd seen Potter a couple of times more, mainly at Hermione's dinners. By the end of the second dinner, it was Johnny, not Draco, who could be found deep in conversation with Harry - about Muggle sports of all things. Wherever he had been all that time, apparently it was somewhere where people had watched a lot of football. Draco wasn't quite sure what football was.
For the third dinner, however, Potter didn't show up. By the fourth, Neville had told them that he'd gone round Potter's house, only to find Grimmauld Place dark and empty.
None of them said anything. Draco wasn't really surprised, and he had the inkling neither was Hermione. Ron's mood was foul for a bit, but much less than Draco expected. Draco's main surprise was Johnny - he seemed as genuinely sad with Potter's absence as the rest of them. Blessed Potter, Draco thought with affection, mixed with just the slightest hint of bitterness. Can't even get someone's boyfriend to cheat on them without all involved still liking him afterwards.
Hermione was still subdued when she took out a bottle of Madam Rosmerta's oak matured mead. For a moment, Draco thought she was going to offer a toast as she distributed the glasses between them all, but in the end, she stayed silent.
It was Ron who spoke first. "Hey, remember when I almost got poisoned by mead and Harry saved me with that bezoar?" he asked.
"How can I forget?" Hermione laughed. "That was when you split up with Lav-Lav."
"Nah, that happened later," Ron corrected her. "I think that was Harry's Felix Felicis, to be honest. He was going nuts with her -"
" - Not as much as you were -"
"- Just so you know -"
Ron and Hermione went on bickering for a while on the subject. After a while, they stopped, and Neville started telling a different story about Harry Potter, aided by Ginny Weasley, and the room erupted into laughter again. Draco Malfoy sat there on the sofa, one arm holding his drink, the other wrapped around Johnny, and listened.