“You have a really nice smile.” Draco threw his hands up and covered his mouth.
Where did that come from? Had he just…?
Potter stared at him, mouth gaping, seemingly trying to process what Draco had said.
So, Draco did the only thing left: he fled.
“You should wear this more often, it brings out the colour of your eyes.” He was staring in shock at Potter, who was looking just as befuddled as the last time. Draco didn't even wait for an answer before he took off in the other direction.
What the fuck, Draco? Why? What the fuck is wrong with you, saying things like that to Potter?!
He needed a long, hot bath. Probably just the nerves finally taking over, vanishing what was left of his sanity. Damn NEWTs.
“You could always ride my broom, Potter.”
Oh Salazar, could it even get worse?
He hadn't meant it like that. He had heard Potter complaining that he had lost his broom and that he wasn't interested in using a school-issued one for a friendly game of Quidditch. Draco really had to go and let someone check his brain.
And on top of that, Potter now had the nerve to grin and wink at him. Draco could feel his face getting hot and he wasn't sure how to handle this.
What the…? No. Just leave it and get out of here.
“Need a hand, Potter? Your wrist work isn't exactly ideal.”
Oh god, I've done it again. A helping hand for bad wrist work? Please, someone kill me. Now.
Potter laughed and Draco felt like he'd faint any second. He wasn't sure if it was because of the breathtaking sound of Potter's laugh or because of his own stupidity.
The books he wanted to borrow for his studies crashed to the ground loudly, giving him another reason to flee as fast as possible. If Madam Pince caught him, he'd die a slow and painful death.
“I like the black ones more, your arse looks spectacular in them.”
Oh fuck. Not this. Anything but this.
Next to him, Pansy started wheezing and crashed to the floor laughing while Draco tried, without success, to Apparate out of this situation, thinking Hogwarts might pity him enough to let him. Of course not.
“Thanks, Draco, I'll wear the black ones tonight then.”
That's it. I'm going to drink myself into oblivion tonight. He was asking his friends, not you, you dumb—
Draco hadn't even had enough energy left to run from there. He dragged himself to his room and threw himself onto his bed face first. There was enough time left for a bit of self-pity before he had to leave for Hogsmeade.
Draco wasn't shit-faced enough to not notice Potter on the other side of the pub.
Potter wore the black trousers — the ones that did things to Draco. And, they were in addition to a tight black shirt and fucking boots. He looked like a wet dream come true.
Draco had no desire to speak to Potter tonight, so he stayed in his booth and tried to ignore everything around him. With his brain and mouth running amok on him, he couldn't even begin to think what would happen if he had to face Potter now.
His hiding strategy worked right up until Pansy next to him choked on her drink and he looked up to find himself staring into Potter's grinning face.
“Hey Draco, would you mind if I Slytherin?”
“Fuck me, you look hot. You know that, right? But that was the worst pick up line I've ever heard.”
What the-? Oh, Salazar. No. Just shut it already. Did you really start with ‘fuck me’? What's wrong with you?!?
“How about: ‘Anytime, but not in front of everyone’.”
Groaning, Draco buried his face in his hands. Potter squeezed himself into the booth next to him before he shoved another drink towards Draco.
“I think it's time I tell you that I might have hexed you a little bit Draco,” Pansy huffed out between laughs. “But, you see, it worked, so you're welcome.”
This is my fourth entry for the gameofdrarry2018 fest, I rolled 7 and got: Azka-Damn prompt based on roll - Minimum: 69 Maximum: 690
