Muggles ✧ Drarry

᥊𝓲ꪜ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5ᴋ
ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ: ᴊᴀɴᴜᴀʀʏ 27ᴛʜ, 2021
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"Potter, you're getting in your head again," Draco warned, tapping the saviour on the face with his finger. "Don't wanna see you thinking, now do I? That's too dangerous."

Potter chuckled, twirling them around some more. They were on the dance floor for the second time that night. After their first couple of dances, the speeches had begun, and then dancing had resumed. Of course, more people were just chatting around now, instead of dancing, but Draco found himself really not wanting to talk to people, so they danced instead.

Well, dance was a strong word. They were swaying still, just a bit less lackadaisically. They were swaying with purpose, as Draco liked to say when Potter asked him what the hell was happening. Swaying to look dignified, and to have fun.

Though they were having a nice time swaying and avoiding social interaction, Draco could tell that the Gryffindor was becoming antsy. He wondered if he was the only one who liked swaying like this, if Potter didn't like this intimate gesture.

Of course Potter didn't like it, he was Potter. Harry Potter had heaps of other options that were better than Draco, so of course he wouldn't like being forced to dance with the healer.

Just a little longer, he told himself. Just a little longer until Potter can be freed from my obnoxious clutches.

Draco took a minor step back, increasing the distance between them and wondering if Potter would prefer dancing with the old woman he had talked to earlier. He probably would, with his stupid selflessness and all that.

"Are you alright?" Potter asked, because he was courteous like that. His green eyes, which Draco looked into out of proper habit, were flashing with variants of concern and amusement. There was something fascinating about Potter's niceness, something that Draco wanted to know more about once they were done with this whole issue and possible friends.

Friends. That seemed like something that Draco would like to happen after he got his magic back. He could imagine Potter spending time with him and his friends, he could even imagine himself accepting Weasley into his home, if it meant getting to spend time with Potter.

He wondered what Potter's friends would think about him when they got back from their trip. He wondered when they were going to get back from their trip at all. He wondered if Granger would know what to do about their magical issues right away, if she would prove herself more useful than he was, most intelligent than he was. He liked to imagine that he and her were most evenly matched in terms of intelligence, but now that he was realising the struggle of having to figure out something so unprecedented without the help of magic.

Draco felt his Malfoy mask, which he wore so proudly in moments like this, slip into a frown. What if Potter didn't need him anymore after this? What if Granger came home that night, solved the problem, and then Draco was cast to the side forever?

More importantly, why did he care that Potter was going to leave? Why did he care that the end of their journey could be nearing? The only ties he had to Potter were sexual, and that was hardly something irreplaceable.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" Potter asked again, softer this time. He halted their swaying, and Draco found himself surprised at the action. He looked into Potter's eyes again, because his own had shifted away, and saw that the amusement had dissipated, leaving only concern.