Sour Grapes

Chapter 4 - Fair-Whiskey Friends

Well this day had not turned out nearly as planned. Had he been imagining it or had he just witnessed Hermione Granger coming undone by his presence? She had been stealing glances at his shirtless body, and at one point seemed to be staring at his lips with a sense of... yearning? He couldn't recall a time when she had looked at him with anything other than hatred, so perhaps he was reading it wrong. It might be that he had been projecting memories of one of his dreams onto this real life situation and therefore reading it all wrong.

By all accounts, it made no sense that Granger could even consider him in that way for a second. This wasn't a dream, this was a very real reality in which he had been her tormenter for the formative years of her life. He was a recluse, shunned from wizarding society, an unwelcome presence to be sure. Fear began to bubble up, as it occurred to him that she might have thought that he was trying to lure her into a trap.

The probability of that washed over him as a thick sense of dread, and he put down his wine glass, scowling. He cursed himself for being so foolish as to assume she was attracted to him, rather than scared of him. Going over the events of the last half hour in his mind, it was now clear she had been terrified the entire time. Terrified of him. She bloody ran away, how could he be so daft as to read it any other way?

He grabbed the glass and downed the rest, snatching up any bottle at random for a refill before deciding he needed something stronger and reaching for the fire whiskey instead. It was at that moment that a loud crack sounded just outside his door. Had she come back? His heart leapt for a moment with hope before realizing who it was when the sound of a male voice came resounding through his walls, "Oi! Put your pants on mate I'm coming in."

Blaise. Of course. He poured his firewhiskey and called back, "Pants are all I have on, be forewarned mate," just as Blaise strode through the front door. Draco mentally reminded himself that hope was a fools errand, he supposed he agreed with his Father after all.

"Well hello there Mr. Malfoy," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"You know, when these jokes of yours come as frequently as they do, I begin to wonder whether it's true you only enjoy the company of witches," Draco said, grateful to have a distraction from his morose train of thought.

Blaise shrugged, "I'm not in the business of limiting my possibilities, and nor should you be. Shall we take it upstairs and find out?"

"Tosser," Draco said with a laugh, "Fancy a whiskey?"

"Always," he said jovially, moving into the sitting room and plopping down on the couch with his feet on the coffee table.

Draco entered and, handing Blaise his glass, sat down on the couch opposite his oldest friend and raised his in a cheers. Blaise responded in kind, this was a regularly practiced dance.

"So what were you doing standing practically starkers in your kitchen drinking alone?" Blaise asked casually.

"It's hot. And aren't I always drinking alone?" Draco responded with the same casual tone.

"Fair points, mate," Blaise said as he raised his glass again and downed it all in one.

Draco was unsure whether he was being intentionally evasive about what had just happened. Perhaps he needed to think on it more before allowing Blaise's opinions to interfere with his own, as he knew Blaise would have many of them. He always had.

"We need to talk about the plan for this evening," Blaise said as he removed his feet from the table, put down his glass and clapped his hands together.

"Ah yes, the plan, what were you thinking? Polyjuice into those muggle inn owners this time? I still have their hairs in the kitchen cupboard," Draco offered.