Empty Spaces

Chapter 12

- Malfoy -

Taking Andor for a lover had turned out to be infuriatingly more complicated than Draco thought it would be, although in retrospect, he supposed complication is inevitable when one is a Malfoy.

Whether it was love or not, Draco couldn't say. There were moments when the whole world melted away, times when it was just the two of them, where nothing could reach him and nothing could hurt him. But there were other moments, moments where Draco saw the dreary image of himself being trapped at Andor's arm, accompanying him to galas and functions, serving as nothing more than a pretty face and a partner in bed.

Is this my future? Who knows? But who else will look at me like this, without judgment, just desire? Who else would overlook the past? Who else will lie with me, hold me, run their hands over me without scorn or disgust or hatred?

So he stayed.

Tuesday afternoon came around, and Draco wondered whether Potter was serious about meeting up again at the lake. He wasn't sure what prompted Potter to come over last Friday, although come to think of it, he wasn't really sure what prompted most of Potter's actions. Draco had never met anyone who seemed so simple on the surface, yet so complicated just below. A Malfoy was complicated everywhere. Who knows about Potter.

"Hey," Potter said, settling himself at Draco's side, closer this time but still maintaining a decent distance. "Good weekend?"

Draco nodded. It had been an excellent weekend, in many ways. Is this my future? Warming the sheets for a handsome Hungarian writer? That can't be all. But what else is there? Who else would look over the tattoo, the scars, the past?

"You?"

Potter nodded, and they sat together in silence once more, relishing in the freedom to be broken. There was no one to impress, no one to convince. It was a nice change, not having to pretend everything was okay when it wasn't.

"Well, Potter," Draco announced after a while, "As lovely as this has been, I'm afraid I must be off. See you Thursday." While everyone else is at Defense. Somehow, Draco had a feeling this would become a weekly ritual.

"Thursday," Potter said. "Have fun at your 'appointment'."

Is that jealousy I hear, Potter? No. Yes? No.

"If only," Draco replied dryly. McGonagall had requested a meeting this afternoon, which he suspected had something to do with his rapidly dropping grades. Since becoming Andor's lover, Draco's free time had somehow managed to evaporate. Even when he wasn't rolling around in bed with his handsome Hungarian, he just couldn't bring himself to concentrate on school outside of his classes. Doubt and guilt, it turns out, are absolutely paralyzing. Moments later, in McGonagall's office, all suspicions were confirmed.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall stared him down while handing him a parchment. Yes, this is most definitely about grades. "Is there anything you wish to explain?"

'No," Malfoy said, glancing down at the report in his hand. Shit.

"Mr. Malfoy, you have been allowed to return to school under the condition that you keep your grades at a passing level," McGonagall reminded him. She softened now, her face losing its usual no-nonsense expression and taking on one of understanding. "It appears your work in class is still up to your usual standards," she mused, looking over another parchment, "But you've missed almost every homework assignment for nearly three weeks. We have study halls available for your use in addition to the library, and as a member of Slytherin house, you are still welcome to access the common room for studying and homework. And should you find yourself needing it, you are more than welcome to utilize my own personal study. All you need to do is ask."

Draco would have preferred being yelled at. He wasn't used to sympathy.

"I also invite you to make use of the Hogwarts counseling services," she continued, "should you need any help. And do not hesitate to reach out to any of your professors or myself if there is anything you need. We are here to help you, all of us."

A Malfoy doesn't need help from anyone.

McGonagall seemed to sense that this would end up being a rather one-sided conversation, so she wrapped things up by handing Draco the second piece of parchment.

"I will talk with your teachers. If you can turn in the missing assignments by the end of the month, it won't affect your final grade. But that is where my influence ends, Mr. Malfoy. If you are unable to bring up your marks, I will have no choice but to dismiss you from the school."

Draco gave a curt nod before turning on his heel and leaving. This, more than anything, sent a shockwave through his system. How the hell had everything managed to go so wrong when it had all been going so well just weeks ago???

Thinking that what he was about to do was either going to turn out to be an extremely good idea or extremely stupid one, he returned to the lake, hoping Potter was somehow still there. He was.

"It's not Thursday yet," Potter said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Miss me, Potter?"

"In your dreams."

Not saying anything else, Draco took out his Potions assignment and started working at Potter's side, ignoring him but not at the same time. Potter thankfully didn't ask any more questions; he just pulled out his own homework, following Draco's lead and working in silence. Alone but not alone. It was strangely comforting. And then, all too soon, the lawn began to buzz with students coming out of their final afternoon classes.

"I– er– I'll probably go finish this in the village," Potter said, hesitating slightly, "You coming?"

"Yea, sure," Draco replied, surprised just as much by the invitation as he was by his own acceptance.

They headed to the inn, Potter leading the way back to his room. Draco couldn't help the tiny part of him, buried deep inside years ago, that smirked gleefully at this whole series of events. Eleven-year-old Draco might have had a heart attack and died from such an invitation, so maybe it was a good thing that it was eighteen-year-old Draco doing this instead.

"Bit intimate for homework, don't you think, Potter?" There was no way he could enter Potter's room without saying something.

"Shove it, Malfoy," was Potter's response as he took out his essay.

They worked in silence, the scratching of quills and occasional shuffling of books being the only sound that penetrated through the air. But it was a comforting silence. No one to impress, no need to pretend, no questions asked and no answers required. Eventually, Draco noticed it was only his quill that remained, and he looked up to see Potter clearing his side of the table.

"I'm done," Potter announced while Draco rolled his eyes. Leave it to Potter to state the stupidly obvious. "I'm going to go visit Hermione at Honeyduke's. It's always slow on the weekdays, she'll be happy for the company. Come if you want, or stay here and finish up. Just lock the door on your way out."

It was probably the most conversation they'd ever had about something normal. Mundane, everyday things things that regular people would talk about.

"I'll just stay and finish. Thanks," Malfoy said, unused to being caught off guard like this. "See you Thursday."

"Thursday," Potter said, heading out.

What the hell, Potter. You would really trust me in your room like this, with all your personal crap!? And Granger's, although she's probably got all her stuff covered with an anti-theft jinx... maybe yours as well, knowing her. But there are counter-curses for that, I could just clear the place out. What the hell is wrong with you??? Nobody trusts a Malfoy, and for good reason. Idiot.

He finished off his Transfiguration essay and started packing up his things. When he put his mind to it, he could work quite fast and efficiently, especially when it involved writing. It wasn't all his homework, but it was a start. He packed up his bag and headed out into the corridor, locking the door behind him.

"There you are, liebling, I have been looking for you!"

Oh shit.

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