Tied

Tied by Fate Chapter Two –- Diagon Alley

Draco Malfoy woke up in the worst mood of his life.

The mattress had to be one of the most uncomfortable surfaces he had ever slept on, and Potter hadn’t helped at all with his furious kicking and mumbling in his sleep. Draco thought more than once about using a stunning spell on the prat, but decided it wouldn’t do to have his wand broken in half.

So, he had to deal with it. Unfortunately, this meant not getting a wink of sleep. However, he did pretend to be asleep when the Boy-Who-Lived had bolted upright in bed, clutching at his scar and panting heavily.

He had felt Potter’s nervous, curious stare on him, and it took all of Draco’s self-control not to launch up and yell at him wrathfully for staring so much. Eventually, Potter had fallen back on his back and attempted sleep.

Draco didn’t know whether he had fallen back asleep or not, because just a few minutes later, he had fallen asleep himself.

Only to wake up two hours later by being furiously shaken by Potter.

“Get up, Malfoy,” Potter growled.

Draco opened one eyelid and saw that it was, indeed, Potter shaking him and not some horrible nightmare. He groaned and turned his head into his pillow. “Oh, fuck off you barbarian.”

“You need to get up if you still want to stay here,” Potter told him.

Draco heard the boy scuffling about and assumed he was getting dressed. He kept his face in the pillow. “What makes you think I want to stay here?”

Potter was silent for a moment. “Do you have anywhere else to go?”

He had a point. Damn him. “Not really.”

Potter sighed. “Well, thanks for getting my hopes up,” he replied sarcastically. “Anyway, you need to get up. You can borrow some clothes if you want.”

Draco felt something drop on top of him. He looked up and saw that Potter had thrown down an outfit consisting of a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt with “The Ramones” written across the front. He raised his eyebrow. “Who are the Ramones?”

Potter rolled his eyes and pulled on his own t-shirt. “A Muggle music band.”

“And you expect me to wear something promoting Muggle music?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a loathsome prat.”

“So I’ve been told,” Potter said rather carelessly. “How long do you expect to be here, Malfoy?”

Draco shrugged, throwing the blankets off of him and proceeding to put on Potter’s jeans. “I’m not sure, really. I sort of came here on a whim.”

Potter sighed. “Fine, but while you’re here, you’ll do what I do.”

Draco raised his eyebrow. “Oh? And what is it you do?”

<<*><*><*>>

“No.”

“Don’t be so stubborn. It’s not that bad.”

“I absolutely refuse, Potter.”

“Look, you just-”

“Don’t you listen?” Malfoy snapped. “I don’t know how to cook!”

Harry frowned. “Why not?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m a Malfoy and Malfoys do not cook.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Anyone can pour milk and cereal into a bowl. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.”

“…”

“What’s a rocket scientist?”

Sigh. “Never mind. It’s a Muggle expression.” Harry took the eggs from the fridge, heated a skillet, and proceeded to crack them into the pan. “You’d better be watching Malfoy, because you’re going to know how to cook after today.”

Malfoy scowled. “And why exactly are we cooking? I know you’re a big eater, but even both of us together cannot finish off a dozen eggs.”

“I know that, but we’re not the only ones eating this breakfast. The three hippos upstairs are joining us. In fact, if my clairvoyance skills are up to par, I predict we’ll probably only get one egg each.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “Why can’t they make their own breakfast?”

Harry shrugged. “Guess they’d rather not.”

Malfoy shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe it. You could hold them all in the palm of your hand, yet you let them treat you as a common House Elf.”

Harry shrugged, but seemed to be chopping at the scrambled eggs a bit more intently than necessary. Of course Malfoy would not understand. He himself could not understand why he continued to act like their servant, but he supposed it was just a habit that he really didn’t care enough about to break. He decided quickly to change the topic.

“Hey Malfoy, what’s that tattoo on your arm?”

Yes, that seemed to abruptly change Malfoy’s demeanour. Now, instead of being an annoying little busybody, he seemed more like a deer caught in headlights. “What tattoo?”

“That one on your arm,” Harry repeated. He had noticed the strange tattoo while Malfoy was changing, and now that Malfoy was wearing a t-shirt so that it was clearly visible, it had begun to bug Harry just a bit. It was exactly where the Dark Mark would be if he were a Death Eater. That sent a chill down Harry’s spine.

“Oh, um, right,” Malfoy mumbled. “It’s just a, you know, tattoo.”

“How eloquently put, Malfoy, but really, what is it?”

“Nothing, Potter, it’s just a tattoo. Now will you drop it?” Malfoy snapped irately.

Taken aback, Harry just blinked at him before transferring the eggs in the skillet to a plate. “Sorry, I was just curious. What does it say?”

“Pardon?”

“On your tattoo. I can see some writing, but I can’t make out what it is.”

“…You can see the writing?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be able to? What does it say?”

Malfoy looked back at his arm and traced his fingers over it. He saw that when he did that, the letters seemed to glow green momentarily and the dragon perked up and looked at them before once against resting on the hilt. “In Tenebrae Credeo,” he mumbled.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s Latin. It means, ‘In Darkness I Believe’.”

Harry blinked at him once again. “In Darkness I Believe?” he asked uncomfortably. “Erm...”

“I don’t know why it says it, you prat, so don’t go making assumptions,” Malfoy growled, knowing very well what Harry thought it meant.

Harry looked back at the eggs. “I wasn’t,” he mumbled.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, you’re an open book, Potter.”

“And you talk too much. If you’re not going to cook, then you had better set the table.” Harry shoved five plates into Malfoy’s hands.

“Set…the table? Like a common House Elf?! Well, I never-.”

“Oh, get off your bloody high horse and do it, you spoiled little prat,” Harry snapped as he proceeded to make bacon.

Malfoy just stared.

“What? Don’t you know how to set a table?”

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably and raised his chin just a little higher. “I know how a table is set, Potter. I’ve just never done it before.”

“Well, now’s as good a time as any, don’t you think?” Harry inquired.

Malfoy glared witheringly at him, mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and went about setting the table.

<<*><*><*>>

When the Dursleys finally came down for breakfast, Draco realised that Potter hadn’t been kidding before – they really did eat that much. Draco managed to get one of everything – hardly enough to satisfy his appetite – before the two largest men in existence got their sausage-like fingers on the rest.

Draco had never been more disgusted in his entire life.

“Your family eats like they’ve been starving for years, Potter,” Draco commented as they walked outside.

Potter seemed to like to do that a lot – walk outside, doing nothing but trudging on lost in his thoughts. Draco didn’t know how the older boy could stand it. He had never been good at doing nothing.

“Yes, well, you know what they say: you can’t choose your relatives,” Potter replied in a distant voice, as if he really wasn’t thinking about it.

“I’m still hungry,” Draco mumbled.

Potter raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you’d be full.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. “Just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I don’t eat a lot. I happen to have an extraordinarily high metabolism.”

“Uh-huh.”

Draco looked around. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Dunno.”

“How long are we going to be walking like this?”

“Until it gets too hot or until you get too annoying – whichever comes first.”

“Funny, Potter.”

Potter shrugged. “I thought so.”

“So, you really do this everyday?”

“I seem to, yes.”

“Potter, this is ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous?”

Draco stopped, waving his arms up and down. “I’m already sweating and we’re not even that far from your house.”

“Then go back inside. I never said you had to come with me,” Potter replied.

“And be alone with that sodding family of yours? Really, Potter.”

Harry didn’t get to reply, as something hit him over the head from above. He looked up and saw an owl flying off. He looked down, and saw two envelopes lying together in a haphazard fashion.

One was addressed to Harry, and one was addressed to Draco. Harry opened his first and mumbled, “Acceptance letters.”

“Acceptance letters? But how did they know I was here?”

Potter gave him a funny look. “Um, he’s Dumbledore.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, that’s right. That man seems to know bloody everything. Quite annoying, really. Especially when you’re trying to keep a secret.”

“And what secrets are you trying to hide, Malfoy?”

Shit. He had opened the door on that one. Damn his babbling. “Nothing you’d be interested in, Potter,” he replied rather scathingly. That should deter any questioning, at least for today.

“Well, shall we then?”

“Shall we what?”

“Go to Diagon Alley. We need to get these supplies. Better to do it immediately. Last year, I waited until the last minute and everything was nearly gone.”

“Hm. What about your…relatives?”

Potter shrugged, shoving the letter back into the envelope. “They won’t miss me. Besides, what are they going to do? Take away my allowance? I’m seventeen.”

Draco smirked and nodded.

<<*><*><*>>

Sure enough, even though Uncle Vernon had threatened nearly everything in Harry’s life, he still could not stop the young wizard from taking off to Diagon Alley to get his school supplies. Harry still humoured the large man, thinking it rather amusing to see veins popping out of Uncle Vernon’s neck and forehead.

Of course, Harry didn’t think it was all that funny that Uncle Vernon decided to take another blow at his dead parents. That was when he promptly silenced him by producing his wand. It worked just as well as if he had uttered a silencing spell. Taking his Uncle’s silence as permission, Harry once again went outside with Malfoy.

“And…now what are we doing?”

Harry raised his wand in the air. “The Knight Bus. I used it once in third year. It should take us directly to the Leaky Cauldron, and we’ll get to Diagon Alley from there.”

“You know, we could always Floo our way there.”

Harry shook his head. “I hate Floo-ing. I prefer this way.”

“Yes, but Floo-ing is much quicker.”

“Oh? You think I care about that?”

Malfoy sighed and crossed his arms again. “I hate, hate, hate you, Potter. Making me ride a stupid, smelly bus.”

“Oh, get over it already.”

The Knight Bus appeared a few seconds later, and Stan Shunpike greeted them merrily. Malfoy frowned at the friendly boy with his acne-ridden face, and growled under his breath, “Hate, hate, hate you. So. Very. Much.”

Harry smirked.

<<*><*><*>>

A few minutes later, Malfoy and Harry were dropped off at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry looked as relaxed as ever, his arms resting behind his head as he walked. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked as if he had spent hours at a head-banging concert. His hair was standing every which way, his eyes wide with terror, and Harry’s “Ramones” t-shirt was askew.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Harry asked, knowing perfectly well that it was that bad – especially for someone who had never ridden the Knight Bus and didn’t know what to expect. Like Malfoy. Harry smirked.

“Not that bad? Not that bad?” Malfoy said in a voice stressed from screaming. “I nearly bloody broke my nose, Potter. My nose! Not to mention the state of my hair. Oh, my poor hair. I don’t want to look. Is it bad, Potter? Is it horrible?”

“Like I’d tell you if it was.”

“Please, Potter, I need to know,” Malfoy pleaded. “Does it look like I was just manhandled by a tornado?”

Wondering how a person could be manhandled by a tornado of all things, Harry glanced at Malfoy. “It’s not that bad.”

Malfoy sulked. “Considering your definition of ‘not that bad’ is flying back and forth inside a bus, I’m assuming my hair is in complete disarray.”

“It really isn’t so bad, Malfoy. Stop sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You are. You look like I just took away your ice cream cone.”

Malfoy brightened considerably. “Speaking of ice cream, that should be our first stop. I’m starving.”

Harry sighed. “If you don’t mind, I think Gringotts should be our first stop. Unless you somehow have your entire family fortune in your pockets.”

Malfoy stopped in his tracks. Oh, shit!

Harry shot him a concerned look. “What’s wrong, Malfoy?”

What’s wrong? His father had tried to kill him, that’s what’s bloody wrong. And most certainly, he’d have already stopped Draco from being able to get any money from his vault. Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Harry tilted his head to the side, wondering what was troubling the blonde wizard. All he did was mention his family fortune and-.

Wait.

If Malfoy had come to Harry’s house, then his home situation must’ve been really bad. Did Malfoy possibly think that his father wasn’t going to allow him to have any of his money? And he wasn’t seventeen yet (as far as Harry knew) so he didn’t have a vault of his own.

“You know what? To save some time, why don’t we just stop at my vault? You can pay me back later.”

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow and said nothing for a moment. Then, “I don’t need your pity, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Like I’d ever take pity on you. This is for my own benefit. I still have homework I need to finish up, and the sooner we get back, the sooner I can start on it.”

“Right.”

“And you really had better pay me back, Malfoy. I mean it.”

Malfoy scowled. He never had to pay anyone back in his entire life. Why should he pay Potter back of all people?

He knew there was no point in arguing, and followed his archrival through the entrance to Diagon Alley.

<<*><*><*>>

“Oy, Harry!”

Oh, bother.

Draco stopped as Potter turned to face the voice that had called him. Draco glanced up and saw that Granger and the Weasel were sauntering towards them.

Oh, lucky day.

He should’ve figured they’d run into those two. Potter never could go anywhere without them. It was really quite annoying, and Draco had the sudden feeling that he was going to be subjected to relentless torture. He should just run. Quickly. Into that dark alley over there. Nobody would see him.

Bugger. His legs refused to move.

“Harry, I didn’t expect to see-,” Granger’s voice died as soon as she saw the sulking blonde. Her eyes widened with alarm and fury. “Malfoy, what are you doing here?”

Draco had the sudden urge to mock her in a childish way. He was having a perfectly – well, not perfectly, but sort of pleasant time with Potter alone. Why the two idiots had to go and find them was beyond him. “You’re supposedly intelligent, Granger, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Granger scowled. “It looks like you’re somewhere you don’t belong, Malfoy,” she retorted, spitting out his name as if it were poison.

Draco smirked. “Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing, Mudblood.”

Before he could even think about what to say next, he felt a hand on his throat and a wall hit his head. Really, Potter, such unnecessary force, he thought to himself. Of course, all he vocalised was a sort of strangled noise.

“Don’t you ever call her that name again, Malfoy,” Potter sneered at him. His eyes sparkled murderously and Draco felt the fear from seeing Voldemort return a little.

When Potter seemed satisfied with his rival’s reaction, he set Draco back down on his feet and turned back to go meet up with Granger and the Weasel.

Draco let out a low growl and pounced, knocking both him and Potter to the ground, Potter making an audible oomph! noise. Draco rolled off of him, his eyes glaring dangerously.

Potter’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing, Malfoy?”

“Nobody, Potter, nobody gets away with pushing me around,” Draco snarled in a menacing voice.

“Really, Malfoy, you’re being ridiculous. You deserved it after calling Hermione what you did,” Potter retorted.

In response, Draco lunged at him and threw a punch that landed squarely on Potter’s jaw. It wasn’t strong enough to break Potter’s jaw, but it was enough to have the prat seeing stars for a moment. Draco smirked in appreciation of his obvious strength.

And while Draco gloated, Potter charged at him and knocked him back on the ground, knocking the wind out of him for a second. It was then he realised that Potter was sitting on top of his abdomen, landing punches left and right into his face.

That’s it, Draco mentally growled, Potter is going to die.

With that, Draco used his knee to roll them both over, forcing Potter on his back. The Boy-Who-Lived cringed as the back of his head met concrete, but that didn’t stop him from trying to push Draco off of him – to, of course, no avail.

“Oh, cut it out!” Draco heard from somewhere beyond the roaring ocean in his ears. “Impedimenta!”

Draco’s fist stopped three inches from Potter’s face. Though he tried to fight the spell, he could not move. A shadow fell upon them. A shadow that was unmistakeably Granger.

“Now, either you two stop fighting immediately, or you stay like this until school starts. When I take this off of you, you both had better stand up and apologise to one another, or the hex goes back on. Got it?” asked Granger, sounding rather unsteady.

If Draco could move his jaw muscles enough to talk, he would’ve told the Mudblood to sod off.

However.

“Finite Incantatem.”

Potter hurriedly pushed Draco off him and scrambled to get up. The blonde just glowered at Granger, then at Potter, and spat indignant vulgarity under his breath.

Satisfied that the two sworn enemies were not fighting anymore, Granger smiled smugly and put her wand back into her pocket. She then turned to Potter, most likely forgetting that a wounded Draco Malfoy still sat on the dirty ground.

“Well, Harry, Ron and I must be off. We’ve already got all of our shopping done.”

“Yeah, mate, I’ll owl you later,” Weasley replied.

Harry nodded, almost thankful that the pair was leaving. Draco seemed almost docile and nearly manageable when his friends weren’t around. “All right.”

When Granger looked back at Draco to give him a nasty parting glance, her eyes narrowed. Draco stood up, raised his eyebrows and followed her gaze: his shirt.

Damn it.

“Harry, why is Malfoy wearing your shirt?”

“What?” Harry asked, thrown for a second.

“Isn’t that your ‘Ramones’ shirt? I never thought Malfoy would like a Muggle band,” Granger replied suspiciously. She kept darting insinuating looks at both of the boys.

Draco did not like those insinuating looks. They implied something that Draco didn’t even want to consider. Not with Potter.

Potter looked back at him. “Oh, that. Well….” Potter then launched into a story about how Draco came to his house just yesterday needing a place to stay and how, since all of Draco’s belongings were at his house, he was wearing Potter’s clothes.

“But, why would you go to his house, Malfoy?” Weasley asked, obviously confused.

How surprising.

“That, Weasel, is none of your concern,” Draco drawled nastily.

“Why, you….” Weasley began, storming up to Draco.

Draco was slightly relieved when Potter grabbed the enraged red-head’s arm, preventing him from moving any farther.

“Ron, don’t. I believe Malfoy’s had enough of a beating today, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” growled Weasley. “I think he could use a few more bruises…maybe a broken bone or two.”

“Ron,” Granger sighed. “As much as I’d love for you to pound the ferret, we really must get going. Your mother is expecting us back at the Burrow any minute now.”

At the mention of his mother, Weasley calmed somewhat. “Fine,” he mumbled. He then turned to Potter. “You know, this whole arrangement could work out to your benefit. You know what they say: the taste of revenge is sweet.”

Potter raised his eyebrows for a moment and cast a considering glance at Draco. Draco’s heart fluttered in panic for a second. He nearly died of relief when Potter shrugged, chuckled, and said, “Yeah, but then I’d have to deal with an overly moody ponce for the rest of my vacation.”

Well, part of him nearly died in relief. The other part sputtered indignantly. “I do not get moody, Potter.”

Potter looked at him disinterestedly. “Okay, Malfoy.”

Draco crossed his arms and sulked, mumbling unintelligibly.

“Well, I’ll see you guys soon, I guess.”

Granger and the Weasel disappeared into the crowd and Potter walked back over to Draco, giving him a hard look.

Draco rolled his eyes after a few seconds of waiting for an explanation. “What is it?” he asked impatiently.

“There is one rule and only one rule you must follow if you’re going to be staying with me, Malfoy.”

“Oh? And what is it?” he asked. “I can’t promise I’ll follow it, Potter, because quite frankly, I have no desire to be anyone’s – most especially your – sex slave. There are some things even I won’t do.”

For the second time that day, Potter seemed thrown. Blinking, he snapped from his stupor and proceeded to blush noticeably. “No! God, Malfoy, no! That’s not it. Merlin, Malfoy, what would make you think that?”

Draco shrugged and muttered something Potter didn’t quite catch.

“I was talking about being at least partially civil to Hermione and Ron,” Potter explained. “I don’t want you calling them ‘Mudblood’ and ‘Weasel’. Not only does it make me question your creativity on insults, it’s also really hurtful.”

Draco tilted his head to the side in thought. “Well, that would be the general idea behind insulting someone, Potter. Or do you do it because you believe it makes the other person feel special about themselves? Getting insulted by the Great Harry Potter. Oh, what an honour.”

“Oh, shut up, Malfoy. I know why you insult them. I’m just telling you to stop it.”

Draco’s eyes flashed. “You’re telling me to stop it? Since when do I have to follow what you say?”

Potter took a step forward, bright green eyes glowering down into Draco’s own steely greys. “Since you started living in my house, that’s when.”

Draco stared up defiantly at him, a sense of self-righteousness rising in him. How dare Potter order him around like that? He had absolutely no right. It wasn’t Potter’s place to tell him what he should or should not do. The only person who could do that, right now, was Draco himself. And he was not about to let Potter get away with thinking he could control Draco. “I’ll call them whatever I please, Potter.”

Potter’s eyebrow raised in an infuriating way. “Oh? Well, then I suppose I’ll see you at school.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

Dumbfounded, Draco shook himself from a momentary stupor and caught up with Potter. “What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said I meant. You either stop calling them those names, or you spend the rest of your summer somewhere else. To be honest, Malfoy, I thought it was a pretty fair deal – in fact, I think you get the lesser of the two evils,” Potter informed him.

“But…you can’t just leave me here,” Draco protested, desperation tingeing in his voice.

Potter stopped and narrowed his eyes at him. “And why not? If you can’t lower yourself enough to stop calling my friends names, then why should I lower myself into letting a bratty little git stay with me all summer?”

Draco scowled and crossed his arms. “I’m not bratty.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You just want me to stop calling them names?”

“Yes, that’s it. You can do whatever else you like…. Um…you know, that doesn’t involve maiming them or pushing them to the brink of insanity,” Potter added as an afterthought.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You take the fun out of everything.” Sighing, he looked back up at the speccy git. “Fine, I won’t call them names anymore. However, there’s something you must do for me in return.”

“What? But, we’re already on a level playing field! What makes you think I’ll tip the scales in your favour?”

“It’s nothing, Potter, really. It’s just a price to pay for my kindness. Besides, the scales are tipped in your favour, not mine. Having a Malfoy such as myself in your home is considered to be an honour,” said Draco in a regal tone.

“Yeah, well so is being in the highest ranks of the Death Eaters, but you don’t see me jumping for a chance for that, do you?” Potter asked sarcastically.

Draco chuckled. “Don’t be silly, Potter. The Dark Lord would never accept you. You’re too high on his list of enemies. He’d rather see you die in a million and a half ways than let you into his army and ensure his ultimate victory.”

For a moment, Potter wondered if there was some sort of underlying compliment in that statement. If there was, he decided to ignore it. “Yes, well…get on with it. What did you want?”

Draco smirked.

<<*><*><*>>

“You’re a ridiculous prat. You know that, right?”

Malfoy smirked at him. “Since I’ve been told that a thousand times since I got here, yes.”

“Well,” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of the packages in his hands. “I just thought you should know that my opinion of you hasn’t changed. Really, Malfoy, you aren’t going to be at my house that long – the summer’s nearly over. Do you actually need ten pairs of pants, eighteen shirts, and eleven pairs of shoes? I mean, honestly, you could’ve worn my clothes. I have absolutely no problem with it.”

Draco shook his head. “While your clothes do fit, they don’t fit me in the right ways. For one thing, this shirt is way too big to be considered comfortable. It hides my figure completely.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “It…hides your figure? Malfoy? Is there something you want to tell me?”

Draco seemed to think of a response for a moment. “Hm. Yes, yes there is. I’ve decided you aren’t going to get these jeans back.”

Harry stumbled a little. “What? Why not?”

“Well, I would think it was obvious by just looking at me,” Draco replied. “They hug me in all of the right places and really accent my bum, don’t you agree?”

Stunned pause. “Malfoy, I’m not looking at your arse.”

“Oh, really, Potter, it’s not a homosexual thing at all. Girls look at other girls’ bums all the time. It’s considered normal. And now you’re telling me that you think looking at my bum will make you gay?”

Harry shook his head, a bit bemused. “I’m not, Malfoy. But, I am beginning to wonder….”

“Wonder what?”

“I’m beginning to wonder if maybe you are.”

“Well, of course I am, you git,” Draco told him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “With my fashion sense and looks, do you really think I could be anything but?”

Over twenty packages fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Harry stood there, opened-mouth, and wide-eyed. “Y-you’re kidding me.”

Draco turned to look at him. “You really didn’t consider it, did you?” He chuckled. “You’re about the only person who hasn’t. You really are as oblivious as they come.”

“B-but, what about Pansy?” he asked, trying to wrap his brain around the whole idea. He had shared a bed with the guy. It was almost surreal.

Draco made a face. “Pansy? Well, that was fourth year. I mean, I only realised I was gay in fifth year. Back then, I thought Pansy and I were going to be forever. But, then she went off and told me I was too focused on Nott.”

“Nott? So you two…?” Harry wondered, walking with all of the packages in his arms again.

“We were on and off all sixth year, Potter. Really, you are that unaware.”

“But you must have kept it so secret.”

“Secret? We were flirting shamelessly everywhere we went. I believe your friend, Mu—Granger walked in on us in some shadowy corner snogging.”

Harry blinked and tried to erase the mental image that conjured. “I can’t believe it,” he said in a meek voice.

“Of course you can’t, Potter. You’re too caught up in your own little world,” Draco stated, not bothering to hide the bitterness behind that comment.

Harry continued on in stunned silence. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? Sure, Draco had become more of a small distraction than a real focus in his life since the end of fourth year, but he thought for sure that if Draco and Theodore Nott were boyfriends, he’d notice it.

Apparently, however, Draco was right. He was too caught up in his own little battle with the Dark Lord to notice anything around him anymore. As he reflected, he realised that killing Voldemort seemed to be the only thing he had thought about with any depth.

Casting a curious glance at the blonde as they made their way out of Diagon Alley with their packages, Harry wondered just what else about the younger wizard he didn’t know.