Maybe I don't want to

Chapter 2

Draco sat in the back of the potions class as Slughorn droned on with some stupid anecdote that had nothing to do with anything, his eyes locked on the messy hair in front of him. He'd first caught sight of Potter in the Great Hall the week before and he'd been unable to do anything but stare. His hair had always been messy but now it looked like straight up sex hair making Draco want to run his hands through it. The charcoal around his eyes made the green that much more vibrant, especially without those glasses to block the view. The thin lines of ink visible just at the edge of his robes incited instant curiosity. As if Draco needed another reason to want to see what was under Potter's clothes. The man was fit, he'd filled out during the war. But it was the lip ring that really did him in. He desperately wanted to feel the cool metal pressed against his skin. He wanted to play with it with his tongue to hear the man moan. He wanted to feel it tease along his cock as those pretty lips sucked him in.

He could hear Potter muttering to Weasley about quidditch tryouts. He'd apparently turned down the position as captain and it'd fallen to the Weaslette. Draco knew he'd wind up at the pitch that evening, just to see the man atop a broom. He had it bad and he knew it. But there was nothing to be done about it. Potter would never want anything to do with him. He'd made sure of that over the years, especially during the war. Potter may have testified on his behalf in the trial, but he'd done that because he'd owed Narcissa. Draco sighed. He just had to get through this year and then he'd probably rarely, if ever, see Potter again.

"Honestly Draco, can you daydream when my grade isn't at stake?" Pansy sighed beside him. He looked down at the book opened on their table before turning his attention to the potion they were set to make. He tried futilely to ignore Potter, but that was impossible when he kept laughing. The deep sound distracting, nearly as bad as the light glistening off the stud in his ear. It was going to be a long semester, especially with Potter's room just across the hall from his own.

***

It was hours later that Draco found himself sneaking up to the pitch. The Gryffindors who'd gathered wouldn't be pleased to see him. They'd think he was spying for the Slytherin team. In reality he just wanted to watch Potter in the air. Casting a notice me not charm, Draco slipped up into one of the empty stands. He watched Potter hovering in the middle of the pitch with the Weaslette and a few others. They ran through a few drills. Potter was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, more ink lines visible on his back as the shirt blew about in the wind. The tattoo looked like it took up his whole back, but the lines always seemed to change with each look he got.

He watched Potter plummet to the ground, pulling up at the very last second before he hit the ground. A crowd of admirers cheered from the far side of the pitch. Draco caught the glare Potter sent their way but they were too far away to see. It made him grin. Those fans were obnoxious, following Potter everywhere, taking every chance to touch him and monopolize his attention. It made Draco furious to see those silly girls fawning over him, touching him as Draco wished he could. So it pleased him to realize Potter detested them just the same.

He let a soft chuckle escape causing Potter, who was much closer than he thought, to look over. He held his breath as Potter's gaze skipped right over him. He only breathed again when Potter was called back to demonstrate another move. Draco could kick himself for his own carelessness. Potter would've been pissed to find him there and likely hexed him into the hospital wing, if his rabid fans didn't do it first. Draco watched well into the evening hours. He watched the fans file away as Potter and the rest headed into the locker room. He waited for them to leave as well before dismissing his charm and pulling out a book from his bag. It may be growing dark but he wasn't ready to return to the dorms yet. He settled comfortably in, losing himself in the ideology of runic practice.