Finding Potter (HP - Drarry)

Finding Potter

Draco groaned as Blaise propelled him bodily into the circle of 8th years. "Remind me why I'm friends with you, again?"

Blaise grinned, pressing an empty beer bottle into his hand. "Spin, Draco."

Draco spun. He watched the tip as it slowed, detached amusement spiraling quickly into mounting horror. He willed it to keep moving as it slowly wobbled to a stop.

Potter looked up at him from across the circle, an unreadable expression in his too-green eyes.

Blaise smirked. "Off you go, then. Into the closet. We'll fetch you when your seven minutes are up."

Draco paled. "What?"

Pansy giggled. Giggled. "It's just a kiss, Draco."

Potter rolled his eyes, already hefting himself to his feet. "Come on Draco."

Draco drew himself up haughtily. "Fine. But I would like it noted that I do this under duress." He sniffed, took Harry's arm, and tugged him toward the closet, back ramrod straight.

Harry followed meekly, but the muscles of his arm were hard and rigid, and when Draco looked down, confused, he saw that Harry's hands were clenched into fists.

He tugged Harry into the closet, and Harry stumbled. "Clumsy, Potter," Draco chided, but his heart wasn't in it. He shut the door, wincing at the quiet snick of the latch sliding into place, and then turned. He braced himself against the door and closed his eyes, waiting. After a few moments, he opened one eye. "Well?" he asked, arching a brow. "I'm waiting, Potter."

Harry glared at him. His eyes were harder than Draco had ever seen them, glinting dangerously. He looked furious. Draco swallowed.

"Duress?" Potter snarled.

Draco frowned. "Yes, Potter. It means – "

"I know bloody well what it means, you insufferable git."

"...well?"

"Well what?" Potter spat.

Draco stared at him. Perhaps the rumors of post-war brain damage were true. "The reason we're both in here?" he tried.

Potter growled, startling him. "Just... forget it, Draco." He scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, mussing it further. "I forfeit. Now go gloat to everyone how you won. It's what you do best."

Draco stared at him. "But – "

"I don't bloody well want you 'under duress,' alright? Now just go, Draco. Please?" His voice broke. Which did strange and not-altogether-unpleasant things to Draco's insides.

Draco frowned. That almost sounds like he wants me, otherwise. "But... what will I tell the others?"

Potter scrubbed both hands through his hair and tugged viciously. "I... tell them whatever the hell you want, Draco." He laughed bitterly. "Tell them the truth, yeah? That I disgust you. That you wouldn't be caught dead with someone like me." His voice carried an odd undercurrent that sounded suspiciously like hurt.

"Potter..."

"Go!" Draco drew back from the force of Potter's glare. He opened his mouth to say – well, he didn't know what he would say, actually – and Potter's lips thinned. He dropped his hand to hover over his wand. "Get. Out. Now."

Draco got out. His heart was pounding and his blood was fizzing. He was terrified. And alive. He closed his eyes, savoring the life he felt coursing through him. It had been ages since he'd felt so alive. He turned back to share the adrenaline rush with Potter – but Potter was gone. The closet stood empty.