entanglements | d.m.

18.propositions

October '98 | H I M

Draco is in a rut.

It's been over a week since that announcement of the Dance in November and since then, he can't get it out of his head. Which is bad, because the opening Quidditch match this Saturday should be his main concern. Or right behind it, the fuckload of schoolwork being pushed on graduating classes.

To be fair, he is not the only one finding an unusual priority in this stupid Dance. The theme, the dates, the dresses are a constant topic of discussion, especially around Pansy and Daphne.

"I think it's unfair," Theo complains, his big body slouched on an aged cabriole. Daphne, with her legs thrown over his while reclined on the other end of the sofa, throws him a skeptical look. Much like Pansy and Draco.

Blaise the loon has found another reason to hole himself up in his dorm. Draco can only hope their friend uses the solitude to work on his perspective or something, but he knows Blaise is only trying to avoid them.

He still shows up to practice, which is the only thing he gives much energy to, but otherwise he appears thoroughly depleted of energy and... the will to live. Which is the only reason Draco checks up on him, eggs him on at every chance, rather than equally icing him out. For the comments towards Wood, mostly.

Yes, Draco is still pissed about them. It was inappropriate to bring it up out of bitterness and there is still no apology in sight, as per usual, so things are looking rough.

At least his leg seems to be making some progress the last few weeks. According to Daphne, it's a new potion he takes.

"You want to be asked out?" she questions.

"It could be nice." He hooks an arm behind his head, readjusting on the throw pillow. "I would love to get doted on. Why do guys have to make the effort in things like this?"

"Theo," Draco wakes him from one of his daydreams, "you do everything but doting."

Theo's grin turns feral. "Define doting."

"Who would you want to ask you out then?" Pansy asks, holding her hands stationary before her in the air to get a fresh charmed manicure.

Rain is slapping against the windows like the world is going down—but it's not—and has caused practice to be called off, thankfully.

The familarity of this composition is thawing a bitter cold part in Draco's heart. This energy is so relaxed, just hanging out with his friends chatting casually, he dares to believe that maybe, life can go back to normal.

"I don't know," Theo replies. "I'd like to be surprised. I'd like to not have to decide for once."

"You better hurry shaking your booty or whatever it is that calls your kittens because no one likes to be the last minute option." Pansy lifts a sassy brow. "Not even you, trust me."

"That's what I'm saying," a different voice agrees. Corner, along with some of his friends, sink around the group as though this is a common occurance. "Shoot your shot as soon as possible. I already asked my girl."

"Yeah," Draco deadpans, less cold than usual. Trying to make an effort, here. Turning a new leaf and all that. Don't be a bitch. "Everyone saw."

Not twenty-four hours after the announcement, Corner entered the Great Hall with the biggest bouquet of flowers, the question painted in the air above his head asking out his girlfriend Fay Dunbar.

Said girlfriend cups his cheeks this very moment. "That was so sweet of you. I never had a guy do something that thoughtful for me."

Then she's kissing him and Draco drives his gaze to the book in his lap, thumbing the page he gave up reading a while ago.