Draco, you have to go to lessons today. Or at least go and get your stuff back from Potter."
"No," Draco replied immediately, sounding bored, his eyes fixed on his Potions textbook. He was lying back on his bed, still dressed in his pyjamas, with no intention of going anywhere that day except maybe to the bathroom.
"It's been three days. Come on, you've had the weekend to calm down-"
"I don't want to," he cut across Theo before he could expound on his million reasons as to why Draco should go and talk to Potter. He wasn't going to talk to Potter, and that was that.
"You know you shouldn't miss Defence," Theo tried half-heartedly, looking down as he tied his tie, fingers moving slowly.
"I heard you yesterday, now drop it," Draco said irritably, anger immediately bubbling up inside of his chest. He got up off his bed, tossing his book aside, and stalked towards the bathroom and away from the questions. He was cross at Theo for going on at him and making him snap; Theo knew damn well what would happen if he continued to harp on about the situation, and Draco disliked feeling guilty for snapping at his friend even if it was Theo's fault.
"I think he has a point," came a bored sounding voice as soon as he entered the bathroom.
Draco groaned, his steps faltering as he realised he bathroom would provide no safe haven for his shredded nerves. "Christ. Not you, too."
Blaise raised an eyebrow as he looked at his face in the mirror, magical razor held in hand. "I think he's being very patient with you. I'd have told you that you're being stupid a long while ago."
"I am not being stupid," Draco insisted, running his hands through his hair and then wrinkling nose in distaste. Merlin, he needed a shower. "Potter still wants to talk to me, and I bet he's just waiting to make fun of me-"
"Theo?" Blaise called, interrupting Draco. Draco glared at him.
"Yes?"
"Has Potter called Draco any names yet?"
There was a pause, and then, "No, I don't think so. Not according to Draco, anyway."
Blaise nodded in mock thoughtfulness. "That's interesting," he said, and then raised his voice again, ignoring Draco's death glare.
"Has the whole school started wildly gossiping about Draco?"
"Definitely not," came the reply.
"Alright, enough," Draco said, shaking his head and walking over to the stone topped counter in which the sinks were embedded. He ignored his reflection in the mirror above the sinks. "I get the point."
"Do you?" Blaise remarked. "Go on then, explain the point to me."
"Fuck off, Blaise," Draco muttered, turning his back to the counter and placing his palms on the stone surface, jumping back so he was sat next to the sink Blaise was shaving at. He reached out and idly ran his hand over one of the taps, carved stone in the shape of a hissing serpent.
"Potter does not give a bludger that you're queer," Blaise said bluntly, dipping the razor into the basin of water and lazily swirling it around. "Now if you'd just stop caring that you're queer, it would make life easier for all of us. You included."
A dull flush appeared on Draco's cheekbones, a sharp contrast to his pale complexion. "Stop it," he said forcefully, pulling his hand away from the tap and folding his arms tightly across his chest.
"I'll stop it when you stop being in denial," Blaise offered.
"I am not in denial," Draco began heatedly.
