Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy || Drarry

Chapter Seventeen

"You're staring again," Potter said.

"Obviously," Draco said flatly.

Potter sighed.

Draco propped his hand on his chin, sitting at the small table in Potter's flat. Potter was in the kitchen, chopping an onion. He was supposedly making salsa for the bag of tortilla chips he brought back from the shops.

"It's been days," Potter said.

"Mhmm," Draco said.

"You've been acting odd since your last group meeting," Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Potter glared at him, "Like that. Too quiet. Staring. Being fucking cryptic."

Draco shrugged; it was fairly accurate.

"Care to explain why?" Potter said tightly.

Draco was almost impressed that Potter had managed to finally ask. His previous responses to Draco's staring were to glare at him, tell him to cut it out, leave the room, and, once, throw a magazine at him.

"Well, since you asked, I was-"

"Since I asked?" Potter stopped and frowned at Draco, "Are you saying all I had to do is ask?"

"I imagine it would have helped," Draco said, knowing full well that he wouldn't have had an answer the first couple of days.

"For fucks sake," Potter muttered, turning back to his onion.

"Do you still want to know?" Draco asked.

"Yes, Malfoy," Potter said.

Draco swapped, propping his chin on his other hand, "I've been thinking."

"I could have guessed that," Potter muttered. He took a breath and asked, his tone a faux calm, "What have you been thinking about?"

"Relationships... with my parents, my old friends, if I can really call them that, that sort of thing," Draco said vaguely.

"And that involves me how?" Potter asked.

"You?"

"Yes?" Potter silently swore under his breath before adding, "You've been staring at me."

"Oh, right," Draco said.

"Yes, right, that," Potter said impatiently.

That was a bit more difficult. It was a delicate question, and Draco had enormous difficulty being civil where Potter was concerned. But he was starting to want to be.

"I've been... trying to figure you out," Draco said.

"You could just ask. I imagine it would help," Potter said sarcastically.

"I don't know how to ask," Draco said.

"Just ask, Malfoy. I'm fucking tired of you staring," Potter said.

Draco winced in anticipation, "You're not going to like it."

"Ask," Potter said.

"Fine. ...Were you starved as a child?"

The knife slipped, and Potter swore as it fell, clattering across the floor.

Draco was startled to his feet, "Merlin, Potter, are you alright?"

"Fine," Potter said.

Draco didn't believe him. He hurried over and took Potter's hand.

"It's fine, Malfoy-"