Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy || Drarry

Chapter Three

A groan crawled up out of Draco's throat, and he gripped the sheets tightly in both hands. His stomach twisted, and he swallowed hard, clenching his jaw to keep everything down. His head was thrumming with agony. Every single movement sent warning pains through his head and stomach. Draco squeezed his eyes shut until shapes swam in his vision, took a shuddering breath and then slowly and carefully pushed himself upright. He sat very still, focusing on breathing.

Draco didn't recognise the smell of this place. The last thing he remembered was being at the bar with Laura and her friends. Despite being stripped down, he was still wearing his pants. Draco pried open his eyes just enough to see through the haze of his eyelashes. The bed was empty and neatly made up; Draco had just been placed on top of the duvet, a throw blanket tossed over him.

Before he could look around further, his stomach gave another ominous roll that propelled Draco to his feet. He pressed his hand over his mouth and hurried out into a small apartment, turning on his heel until he spotted another door and rushed inside, barely making it to the toilet before his stomach emptied.

Draco slowly pushed himself to his feet and rinsed his mouth out at the sink. There was a bottle of painkillers on a shelf by the mirror, and he popped two into his mouth. He had to lean against the sink as his stomach ached at having nothing but pills and water on it.

Grey eyes looked back at him in the mirror ringed by deep shadows and sallow looking skin. He went to swing the mirror open against the wall, but it wasn't a medicine cabinet, just a mirror attached to the wall. Draco pressed his hand over his reflection as he pushed himself up and shuffled to the shower, stripping off his pants along the way.

The bathroom was small but well cared for. The white tiles were starting yellow with age; the porcelain and exposed pipes spoke of the style after the war, perhaps a building built in the aftermath of the second world war and the bombing of London.

Draco turned the water on and was hit with shudderingly cold water that gradually turned warm but never got properly hot. There were three bottles, one of shampoo and conditioner and a bottle meant to be shampoo, condition, and body wash all-in-one. Draco would roll his eyes, but he'd seen the same thing in many, many bloke's showers.

He used the separate shampoo and conditioner that had a vaguely jasminey-flowery smell. Draco turned the water off and had to grab the only towel hanging beside the shower to dry himself off. He had left the bedroom before finding his wand, but he could dry the towel along with everything else before he left. It was odd that there was only one towel, as he remembered Laura saying she had a roommate.

Draco frowned to himself as he scrubbed the towel over his head. He studied the bathroom more closely with growing unease, there was no makeup on any of the shelves, but the girls might keep it in their rooms if they wore any. He thought Laura had been wearing makeup.

Draco retrieved his pants off the floor and put them back on before easing the bathroom door open and peeking outside. The apartment seemed to be empty, and smaller than Draco would have expected. He stepped out and looked around.

The main room was half living room, half kitchen, with a small table and four chairs on the kitchen side and a large plush couch on the living room side with a narrow space to walk between the two. The only other rooms were the bathroom he had just been in and the bedroom.

Draco's breathing stuttered, and he hurried back onto the bedroom. He quickly scanned the floor, but it was clean; his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

Draco ran to the dresser and pulled open the drawers until he found a pair of grey joggers. Tying them up to keep them on his thin hips. He pulled a t-shirt on next, so loose it seemed to be made from someone three times his size.