No More Games (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Five

Part Two – Snakes and Ladders

Harry woke with the distinct impression his head was about to split in two. He groaned and tried to squeeze his eyes shut to will the hangover away, but it wasn't doing him much good. So with a sigh, he stumbled out of bed and pulled some clothes on before venturing out into the flat, not wanting to risk startling his flatmate Ron or his girlfriend Hermione by bumping into them in just his boxers.

The night before was coming back to him in snippets. He remembered Mac first, and his stomach plummeted as he stilled by the sink, letting the water run for a good minute before he came back to his senses. It was the most popular gay bar in town, so it wasn't all that surprising they'd run into each other, but Harry was still crawling with mortification. But then, slowly, the rest of the night was coming back to him.

Draco.

He found some ibuprofen and finally filled up his glass, before sneaking back to his room, glad not to have run into anyone along the way. His phone was dead, so he patiently plugged it in and allowed it to charge for a few minutes whilst he took his pain killers and checked his watch for the time. Nine thirty. That seemed important for some reason.

Unable to wait any longer, he held the phone's on button down and watched as it came back to life. The minutes dragged by as the systems gradually re-booted, and then his heart skipped as the ping of a text message flashed up. The number was unknown, but Harry was pretty certain he knew who it was from.

"Hey Harry," it read. "I hope your head isn't too sore, still up for meeting today? Draco x"

Then another message. "Hi, I'm worried you're still asleep lol, so I won't come over so early. Let me know when you're awake and I can head to you x"

Harry stared at the messages for a pretty long time, enough so that he had to tap the screen a couple of times to stop it going dark. Suddenly, he felt very sick, and he was uncomfortably certain it wasn't to do with his hangover.

Draco had been amazing last night, rescuing him from facing Cormac alone, being unreasonably lovely to him, saying he wanted to wait before coming up, that he wanted to see him again. And then, finally, kissing him.

He may have been drunk, but he remembered the incredible light feeling that had accompanied him back up to his flat and stayed with him until he'd drifted off to sleep. So why now was he feeling more and more like there was a lead weight on his chest, like he wanted to curl up into a ball of alcohol fumes and disappear from the world?

Why did Draco want to see him, surely it had just been out of pity he had helped him last night? Every thought of him inevitably had Harry sliding back to Mac, and he felt like his skin was raw with open wounds and live nerve endings.

He missed Mac's laugh, the way they'd drive a bit too fast in his car, and the way he would eat his food hungrily in big messy bites, even if he did give Harry a hard time for burning it or making it too salty. He thought of the time they watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy back to back, the extended edition no less, and how they'd been planning on tackling The Hobbit next. He thought of how they'd got on the plane to Rome together, of the five amazing days they'd spent there wandering about the city.

Then he thought of that terrible phone call out of the blue, of how his heart had shattered because Mac had apparently just got bored with him or something, and once he'd decided it was over, there was nothing Harry had been able to do about it.

It had been okay yesterday facing him. He'd had his friends, and for some reason Draco had taken it upon himself to start playing someone who was actually interested in Harry, and now it seemed that he really was interested in him.

He'd let the screen on his phone go blank he realised.

He thought about facing Draco today, and whereas yesterday he'd been giddy with the prospect, now he felt like it was crushing him down. He didn't know how to feel about somebody saying they liked him, not after all those times Mac had said it, only to drop him without so much as a care. He squeezed his eyes together, and felt a cold tear slip down his cheek.

No, there was no way he could do this, not today. Today he was going to hide in bed, order pizza and marathon Drag Race or TOWIE. Something that didn't require his brain to actually function.

"Hey," he typed out before he could change his mind. "I'm actually feeling pretty terrible, I don't think I'll be much fun today. Rain check?"

He typed, deleted and re-typed a kiss at the end until he growled out in frustration and pressed send without it. He didn't have the energy to think about whether or not he was good enough for Draco, or if he was going to regret this. All he could hear was Mac's voice saying "It just isn't working anymore Harry" and realising he'd rather feel numb than feel that again right now. Nothing was better than risking something.