Fourteen Thousand Galleons

It Better Be Worth It

Draco's had a rough weekend. He's not particularly pleased with having his comfortable world flipped on its axis and turned upside down. In fact, if he could do it all over again, he'd have a time turner in his hand immediately. Unfortunately for Draco, Harry Potter tends to make gigantic, mental leaps of faith. Off cliffs.

Let's tell Hermione, he'd say in the most ridiculous, optimistically flouncy Harry Potter voice he can muster. She'll understand. She's very understanding and clever and beautiful and wonderful and Gryffindor.

Urgh. Why he had to go and fall in love with Boy Wonder is well beyond his comprehension. And then, even worse, he feels it when he's near her , too. This thud, thud, thud in his chest that reminds him that he's not quite as heartless as he's always meant to be. With Harry, he's alive but with Hermione, he feels. It's the most annoying load of bullshit Draco's ever known.

But he doesn't want to live without it. He's well acquainted with knowing grandeur and riches; no man wants to give them up once they have a taste. The same can be said for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

Of course, all of this came out of nowhere. All he'd done to earn these two in his life was quite literally walk into a bar intent on drinking himself into the most deplorable stupor imaginable. And a year later, he's rewarded with a gorgeous auror for a boyfriend and a pending, soon-to-be relationship with Goodie Two Shoes Granger. His luck is amazing.

"Draco?" Harry glances into the room. "Figured I'd find you here."

Draco's sitting by the fireplace in the den, a glass of whisky in one hand and a book in the other. He doesn't even look up as Potter enters the room with one of his big smiles and his knowing, sparkling eyes. Draco raises an eyebrow as he watches him cross the room and sit in the seat across from him. Neither of them break the silence and so Draco pretends to read his book.

No need to let Harry know just how much of Draco's attention he actually has at any given moment.

Without even lifting his gaze, Draco can feel Harry's antsy energy. He can hear the way his hands drag across his trousers and the soft squeak of his boot on the ground as his leg bounces. It's almost cruel that he allows Harry to sweat it out, but Draco is nothing if not patient. He'll wait a century before he gives Harry an easy-in to the conversation he knows is coming.

Finally, Harry breathes loudly and it's the most adorably annoyed sound Draco's ever heard. So impatient and such a Gryffindor move that Draco almost rolls his eyes.

"I wasn't the one walking around the house in a shirt that doesn't belong to him."

It's not exactly what Draco's expecting. The words immediately pull Draco's eyes from the book and they pin Harry to the spot. He's waiting for more.

Harry pushes his hair off his forehead and then shakes his head. His lips aren't turned down anymore and instead carry a smirk that seems to hold a private joke. Draco lifts a brow.

"She's... mostly on board," he says finally, losing most of his confidence the more he speaks. "She thinks I'm cheating on you with her and I couldn't... I'm not, am I?"

Draco sets his book down gently on the table beside him, careful not to let the page he'd been reading get lost. He sips from his tumbler and sets the glass down next to the book, and then he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He considers the man in front of him, the way he genuinely worries about his feelings and actually cares if they survive what they're planning. Draco can't imagine losing Harry, not after everything and not when his magic feels so powerful inside him whenever they're close.

But Granger presents an unknown variable. He doesn't like not knowing almost as much as he hates swallowing all of his former beliefs and seeing a constant reminder of them in his bed every single day.