Oh You Pretty Things (A Drarry FanFiction)

Oh You Pretty Things

   Draco stumbled as he descended into the Eighth Year common room, trying to keep his footing and not lose the bottle that hung precariously from his fingertips. He squinted through the darkness. Good. No one was still up.

It was easier that way. He kept his head down, he studied hard, and he gave people the space they needed to glare at him and the dirty tattoo he sported on his left arm. It didn't make things easy. He didn't expect anyone outside Pansy or Blaise to tolerate him or even be civil. That was their right, and he wasn't going to stop them.

It didn't mean he had to hang around for it though.

He liked slipping off to the Hog's Head by himself and drowning his sorrows. He could drink and smoke as much as he liked with no one to tell him off, and for a while he could just...forget. He couldn't change the past, but he could deal with the present and damn well make a better job of the future, of that he was certain.

He made his way into the circular room that all the returning students shared, regardless of house. It was uncouth, Draco felt, that they had been made some sort of example of to show how important unity was in their new, post-war world. Like they could just sweep all those years under the carpet? He would have been much happier to keep skulking around the Slytherin dungeons, but sadly, that had not been an option.

He huffed and rubbed his eyes, hoping Blaise would be asleep when he got to their room, otherwise he'd get an earful about not inviting him down the pub. He really should have been watching where he was going though, because despite knowing his path through the smattering of squishy chairs, sofas and coffee tables, he still managed to trip on something and go sprawling to the ground.

"Omph!" he gasped as he smashed into the carpet and dropped his near-empty beer bottle, but he was distracted almost immediately as the room suddenly came alive with light, sound and movement. Specifically, the movement of Harry Potter sitting bolt upright with Draco over his legs, and the sound of a gramophone playing quite loudly under a soft orange glow.

"Malfoy!" Potter cried in shock as Draco scrambled up, blinking stupidly at Potter sitting next to him. He'd obviously performed a silencing charm to keep the music in his own little bubble, and some sort of deflector so no one else would be able to see the light.

"Sorry," Draco breathed apologetically, and he meant it. It was hard to still be mad with him after everything he'd done for Draco, and the wizarding world at large. Plus, he just didn't feel that old animosity he had when they were younger. He was too tired for all of that nowadays. "I didn't see you...which, I guess was sort of the point, wasn't it?"

Potter – or Harry as he was trying to train himself into thinking – broke into a happy smile and shifted so they were sitting opposite each other, legs de-tangled. "Nah, it's alright," he said. "I didn't want to disturb anyone, but I don't mind some company."

Even from me? Draco wanted to ask, but he didn't. It was a long time since anyone had made him feel welcome, so he wasn't going to pass that up.

"You're up late?" he said instead, and Harry bobbed his head in agreement, taking a swig from something amber in a solid glass tumbler that Draco thought looked interesting.

"So are you – were you out having fun?" he asked with a flick of an eyebrow. Draco was a little taken aback; it was almost like Harry was flirting?

"Trying to," Draco said wryly. "You haven't got any more of that?" he asked, flicking the glass with a fingernail and making it ping. Harry just gave him a delighted look, and fished out a bottle from under one of the nearby armchairs as Draco happily conjured himself up another glass. "What are you listening to?"