Work Text:
Tight corners
It had been ten minutes and already he couldn't wait to leave. He could deal with the sideways glances, the sneers, the scoffs and even the occasional tripping jinx. What he could not deal with, was the golden fucking trio. Harry Potter stood front and centre on the stage. Reading from a crumpled piece of paper, mispronouncing every other word. The idiot redhead and know-it-all busybody flanking him on either side.
“The umm, like every year we are here to…, not to celebrate victory - over Voldemort's reign of terror but to, Ah, to remember and honor the fallen. Their sacrifice secured the peace we now cherish. They will not be forgotten”
Same shit different year. Every year the invitations go out, and every year he decides he's not going. He inevitably ends up getting dragged along by Pansy, leaving early, getting absolutely shit-faced and falling into bed with the most Harry Potter-ist looking muggle he can find. It was becoming a real problem.
Droning out Potter’s same old tired speech, Draco turned his attention to the venue. Annually, they changed the theme of the event in a way The Prophet describes as ‘Tastefully Honourific,’ and Draco likes to call ‘Terribly Obtuse’.
This year's theme was ‘Unity’. One word. The same word being thrown around like it would fix everything. All of it sounded nice… in theory. Draco’s problem with these events was that they were just one big money market for the Ministry. And the proceeds didn't even go to war rehabilitation or rebuilding efforts, they just went straight back into the political pool. For all those old crones sitting on the wizengamot.
The space was decorated with the Hogwarts house colours, red, blue, yellow and only small amounts of green. Figures.The floor tiles were spelled to shimmer your house colour when you stepped over them. Causing a trail of green sparkles to follow under Draco's feet all night.
The drinks were also themed, so instead of serving Firewhisky or elf wine, the bar contained beverages with just Merlin awful names. His personal favorite of the night was a bubbly liquid called ‘Cunningly Courageous’ ,ugh alliteration, but in this case it was practical. Considering the fact it was only his favorite because he refused to say the full name. In actuality it was just coloured gin foam, and it tasted like soap.
He snapped back from glaring at the frothy drink when the music started and everyone began to clap. He jumped so hard he spilled it all over the floor. It would have gone all down his shirt and blazer if he hadn't preemptively cast a repelling spell on himself before the ball. It wasn't uncommon for drinks to be ‘accidentally’ thrown his way at these things. Pansy didn't appear to be so lucky, if the sneer she directed at him was any indication.
“Tergeo. Sorry doll, but you knew the risks,” he defended before Pansy could start on her no doubt crushing admonishment.
She huffed at him but patted his upper arm and turned her attention to the dancers with a forced smile anyway. Across the room Minister Kingsley was introducing the golden trio to a man in bright blue robes, with silver trim, probably in hopes it would encourage him to put a hand into his pocket and cough up a few thousand galleons.
Granger looked intrigued by whatever the fashionably ignorant man had to say, while Weasly stared at her adoringly and Potter seemed utterly mesmerised with the top of his shoe. Merlin, how much longer did he have to stay before he could leave without anyone noticing. All this standing was playing havoc on his back.
When the song finished and those who had taken to the floor began to filter out to the edge of the room, Pansy tapped him again, a wicked grin on her face and said “Mr Malfoy, my dance card appears to be wide open. And by my calculation the next song should be starting in three…two…”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the middle of the room before he could protest. With gritted teeth and an elbow in the ribs from Pansy, he took her waist in one hand and palm in the other then began leading her around the room for a turn.
“It's not so bad,” she said into his ear.
“I'm going to kill you,” he said back. She giggled at him and spun with her arm in the air. Perfectly timed to the beat of the song. When she was back in his arms he added “slowly”.
They were halfway around the room, spinning around one another, when Draco locked eyes with Potter. With his horrible hair and sparkly eyes, wide grin and terrible style.
For a split second his step faltered causing him to step on Pansy’s stilettoed toes. She gasped, as he looked away from Potter's smirk. He was cursing himself under his breath, as the music carried them further around the room and away from the offending stare.
“Sorry” he breathed, once he could look up from his feet without flaming red.
“Yes well, it's a good thing I love you, these are louboutin and if they're scuffed you won’t get the chance to kill me.” she huffed and grinned wickedly, “As I will already be locked up in Azkaban for your murder” and then she smiled at him sweetly, with no trace of malice. Such a Slytherin.
Yeah well, he thought, if Potter would stop looking at him with anything other than unrestrained enmity, he wouldn't have gotten so fucking flustered. One look from the boy who lived and it was like he was a crushing first year falling over themselves.
They reached the side of the room they had started at after what felt like a millennium, and Draco headed for the bar before the last note of the violin could ring out fully.
He ran into a wall of suited backs and said as politely as he could “excuse me,” the group turned to look at him and after seeing who he was went back to their conversation. He waited a few moments chewing on the side of his thumb before giving up and figuring his way around them. The bar was within sight, he was reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet as he walked closer toward literal liquid courage…
When he was hit with a tripping jinx, and went flying.
His knuts and galleons scattering on the floor somewhere behind him, he just barely caught himself on an empty stool, when the room in his immediate vicinity erupted into pales of laughter. If this was a nightmare he'd very much like to wake up right about now.
No? Fine.
Pushing himself up to standing again, he pulled his wand from his sleeve, ignored the gasps and accioed his money. He put it all away and looked at the people surrounding him. Paused thinking he could just make a run for it, but knowing his luck he'd get hit with another and end up with his face in some poor woman's bosom. So instead he grabbed hold of his waning pride and took a bow, low and extravagant with one arm clutching his chest and the other stretched out to his side. Then he spun around and asked of the cute bartender “can I have something that perhaps doesn't taste like swill?” He handed over two galleons and then another ten (that he really couldn’t afford) and said “keep the change”.
As the bartender begrudgingly went to grab the bottle to pour his drink, Draco looked over his shoulder to find the group of chucklers had moved on from his dramatics. He let out a breath and loosened his tie slightly, he probably looked a mess but he was okay with that he decided. Because after this drink, it was time to leave.
“You’ve done that twice now… Someone targeting you, or are you just that unlucky?” the voice came from his right, dripping with not so hidden humour at Draco’s expense. Thankfully the bartender chose that moment to place his drink in front of him on a napkin. He picked it up and threw the whole two finger pour of whiskey back in one.
He didn't turn to look at him, couldn't if he wanted to. “Potter”. He put the glass back on the bar where it vanished before him, and began making his way back to Pansy.
He chose not to hear Potter’s trailed off, “wait a minute…”
The journey back to her was no easier than the one away from her. And when he finally reached her she was talking to someone vaguely familiar and didn't acknowledge him until their conversation ended. Before the woman left she shot one last look at him. Draco resisted the urge to sneer or shout ‘boo’ at her. Just barely.
“Darling, now where did you go?” Pansy said as she used one manicured finger to sweep her fringe over her brows.
“Idiots, trip, bow, drink, Potter, and now you.” he summarised, listing things on his fingers. “Let’s go”.
“And where's my drink?” she asked him. He went to reply but no words came out, he'd forgotten his manners. “Ah well, nevermind that then.” she used one pointed finger to close his mouth for him.
“Stay a little while longer to make it up to me?” she shrugged, smiling sweetly like she didn't know exactly what she was doing. She did, and she had him. ‘It’s only polite’ his mother would say. His face dropped but he acquiesced.
She had half an hour.
***
They danced again to something a tad more sombre and got through the whole step routine without incident. Head auror Robards gave a short and chilling speech about the rounding up of stray Death Eaters that cut the temperature in the room by about twenty degrees. And they were accosted by the parents of Astoria and Daphne Greengrass; Who ‘ever so wished it had worked out between him and their daughter’ before he could make a play to leave. Politics.
“Fine, but I left my bag upstairs. Be a dear and grab it for me. I want to say goodnight to Blaise wherever he is. I'll meet you in the atrium?” Pansy finally agreed, stretching her neck to scan the crowd. Draco took it and ran with it.
He left the ballroom through a side door into a chilly hallway, he headed for the stairwell and took them two at a time up five flights. When he reached the eleventh floor he burst through the double doors into an eerily vacant open office space. The charmed lighting was off but the moonlight from the large windows lit his way to a side room that smelled deeply of burnt coffee and cigarettes.
Pansy’s personal office was small, but not without her own brand of charm. Sharp edges and a clinical feel but it was airy and bright and. He checked her desk which sat dead center of the room with no luck, so he turned his attention towards the cabinet.
Usually lock cupboards like these had a blood spell on them so that they would only open to the owner. This one in particular would open to both Pansy and Draco. He loved how much she trusted him, they were always close at school but in the aftermath of the war they had latched onto each other so much they were practically attached at the hip. They had even lived together for a time but unfortunately one house didn't have enough wardrobes for the both of them, and no amount of extendable charms would fix that problem.
He pricked his finger on the pin above the handle and waited the three seconds until he heard the click and opened the door. He ignored the boring classified case files that pertained to her job as a paralegal and grabbed her Birkin without hesitation, pushing the door closed. He took a step towards the exit but spun and put a hand to the cupboard door, just to check it had definitely locked behind him. It had.
Preferring not to run down eleven flights of stairs he opted for the lift and headed towards the grate. The main lift in the ministry was the noisiest of the lot and had the most personality, but it also happened to be the fastest. When the clangy metal doors opened and Draco stepped in, the automated voice announced “one stop before destination, level six department of Ministry funding”. He scoffed and grabbed hold of one of the ropes above his head, as the lift flew forwards. Hopefully it was Pansy waiting to get on, then he wouldn't have to wait around for her or get yelled at for her having to wait on him.
The lift came to a stop after a swift thirty seconds of being thrown this way and that. The doors opened to reveal one Mr Harry Potter with his head down and arms folded he stepped into the lift. The automated voice said “hold onto your hats next stop the atrium” then took off again with a screech, although it seemed slower to Draco, but perhaps that was because Potter hadn't looked up once and Draco was currently clutching a bedazzled Birkin bag in his elbow.
Potter scuffed his foot on the ground and Draco tried to subtly move the bag down to his hand so that if the man did look up, he wouldn't have to set the lift on fire to explain the colour of his face. He managed it but as he was transferring the bag to his other hand (the one closest to the wall at his side) the other man did look over. Draco schooled his features into a sneer at Potter's shocked face and hoped his cheeks remained pale as anything.
Draco was just in the middle of the thought ‘what is taking this lift so long’ when Potter said “it’s stopped”
“What?” Draco replied dumbly because it had.
Stopped that is.
There was no need for the ropes or the automated voice because the metal vessel of transportation wasn't transporting. The panic must have shown on Draco's face or in the dropping of Pansy’s handbag because Potter said stupidly “It’s probably a jam. These things can stall sometimes, I think. Just…give it a minute”
“Give it a minute?” He said, pulling out his wand from his sleeve. What a time to be claustrophobic. He tried a wordless alohamora but it did nothing more than raise his heartrate.
“Put your wand away before you break the fucking lift Malfoy, it’s fine” Potter said as he leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his hands over his chest.
Out of all of the people he could possibly want to be stuck in a confined space with, Harry Potter was at the very bottom of that list, right below Umbridge, Voldemort and Buckbeak.
“You do realise these lifts are spelled they don't run off of mechanics if there’s a problem it's not going to just fix itself you…ughh!” he snapped at him, how could Potter not understand the danger of the situation they were in right now. “Magic doesn't just malfunction!”
“Do you realise that's the longest you've spoken to me in like -what- four years?” Potter said conversationally, like they weren't stuck in a death trap. Draco ignored him, It was the truth after all.
Draco had practically gone out of his way to avoid the daft git at every turn, something that should have been easy.
It wasn’t.
Potter was always just there. At every event, at every reunion, at every trial. Every time he walked into the DMLE to see his probation officer he was there, spinning on a chair with wheels or laughing loudly with Weasley. And every time without fail Potter would find a way to get in at least one witty quip or he would shoot him a dazzling smile that would have Draco reeling for days after.. So Draco being who he was, wanting to avoid whatever the interaction could come to, would basically run in the other direction.
He couldn't wrap his head around the whole thing. For years Potter had avoided him like the plague, but all of a sudden the war was won and their roles were reversed, he couldn't seem to get enough of Draco's presence.
He tried a few more spells, none of which did anything to the doors. He needed a way to call for help, if he could cast a patronus he'd just send one out to Pansy and beg her to come and save him from this hell. He put his palm against the doors and closed his eyes willing the tightness in his chest to rescind and his breaths to come evenly. It helped only slightly, the walls weren't closing in around him quite so quickly. He tried counting his breaths, in for four hold for three, out for six, repeat.
“You okay?” Potter asked not moving an inch.
“Fine” he gritted out through his teeth. This was not making the best impression of Draco's whole, breezy unaffected facade.
Once his head cleared a little, he shook his shoulders and arms rapidly in an attempt to get the nervous energy out of his body, he took a deep breath, blew it out and stood up properly again. He turned to Potter and asked “can you cast for help?” and was glad of how even his tone was.
Potter looked up from his crossed arms, shrugged and said “I don’t have my wand” with a slight grimace, like he was beginning to regret that decision. Serves him right.
“What?! That's outrageous, why the hell not? You walk around unarmed!"
“I didn’t think I’d be attacked by a fucking lift, Malfoy”
“You’re Harry Potter. It comes with the territory” he waved him off, “fucking idiot”
What kind of wizard with the amount of trauma Potter must have does not carry his wand with him constantly. Draco sleeps with his clutched in his hand under his pillow, and yes he might hex his left eyebrow off every now and again, but there's a suitable spell that brings it right back.
He didn't have long to think on that one world-rocking revelation though, because Potter chose that moment to say the most outrageous thing he possibly could, “give me yours.”
Draco blinked, “you could at least buy me a drink first”.
Potter froze.
Draco did too, though his expression didn’t change. “Your wand,” the other man clarified.
“Obviously” he tutted.
Logically, it would work. But that didn't make it any less…weird. To hand over his protection, his armour, his edge to Potter…unthathomable, laughable, damaging even.
He didn't really have any other options though. He'd just have to take the gamble that handing it over wouldn't damage their bond too much. It had only just barely recovered since the last time, “Fine. I have some ground rules though”
“Ground rules?” he shook his head, “You're the one panicking Malfoy, I'm more than content to wait it out. If you want me to do it, you’ll have to trust me.” Potter replied, unfolding his arms and hanging them out to the side to appear non-threatening. Draco would have laughed at him if he didn't think that would cause some unnecessary tangent when they needed to be focusing on damage control.
He shouldn't even be thinking about it, not when they were trapped. It was just that, well, given their history the idea of there being anything non-threatening between them was just ridiculous. Potter had hurt him in more ways than anyone else, ever. And that was coming from a man who grew up hiding bruises and cuts under sneers and insults.
There were the scars, the broken bones, the bathroom…but it wasn’t just that.
It was the insults, the looks, the being dismissed, ignored. Like it was easy. Like it meant nothing, like he was nothing.
It was that stupid first year rejection that shouldn't still matter.
And yet, it did.
It always did.
So no, Harry Potter was anything but non-threatening in any context involving Draco. Not now. Not ever.
“I do. I trust you to follow my ground rules. It might not mean much to you Potter but this is MY wand. Okay so. Number one: you have five minutes” he laid out and then whispered, more to himself than Potter “any more than that and it won't be worth it.”
Potter caught it though and decided to ask for clarification.“What do you mean?”
Draco glanced at him then back to his wand, “Do not interrupt me. Rule number two: don't hex me, this is a confined space you could really hurt me and I don't trust your repertoire with healing spells. No offense. And three: send it to one of your friends or Pansy if you want but no ministry officials.”
His terms were reasonable. Longer than five minutes and it would risk making it too difficult to earn back his wands' affections. Not being hexed was a no-brainer but he added it because that list was feeling a bit lax. Also he wasn't wrong, you only had to stand near Potter to be able to feel the raw power radiation off of his body. If he were to hit him with even a mild stinging jinx Draco would probably wind up with third degree burns. Having no ministry officials called to help could cause some issues. But he would take waiting an extra five minutes for Potter's dimwit best friends to figure out how to unstick the lift, over being accused of kidnapping or attempted murder or whatever other random criminal charge the aurors would come up with. Three months in Azkaban was plenty for him, he was not looking to take a repeat trip.
“Do you not know that Hermione and Ron both work in the DMLE?” Potter retorted earnestly a silly smile gracing his lips.
He shot him, what he hoped was a look that said something like ‘merlin, you're so stupid’, as if this was any time for benign semantics. “If you can’t trust your friends Potter, then send it to Pansy. Merlin”
“I do trust them but they are ministry officials. I was just saying”
Draco checked his wristwatch and reluctantly held his wand towards him. His blood started pumping faster the moment Potter stepped closer and closed his palm around the wood.
He tugged. Draco didn't let go. For a moment they just stood there, both holding either end.
Terrible idea.
Potter gave a sharper tug. Draco let go. Immediately wished he hadn’t. His hand closing around nothing but empty air, resisting the urge to whimper or snatch it back immediately.
The blinding overhead lighting glowed warmer for a few seconds and the air around them became slightly more charged, not so much to be concerning just enough to make Draco shiver.
The lift wasn't shaking, but Draco was. His eyes glued to his wand as Potter joked, "I think it missed me”, twirling the hawthorne between his fingers.
“Hurry up you idiot!” Draco snapped, this was taking far too long. He checked his watch again. It had been forty seconds. Chill.
Potter, who had been admiring the shape and feel of Draco's wand in his hand, jumped to action, flourishing Draco's wand “Expecto Patronum”.
Nothing happened.
His brow wrinkled, doing nothing to instill hope in Draco,“Umm, Expecto Patronum”
Still nada.
“What? Expecto Patronum” he tried again, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, like he was properly exhausting himself for the spell. “I can..just. Hold on” he cast again, “thats not…it should…why is-”
If Draco’s anxiety had been bad before this certainly was not helping matters. “Try something simple, it might not be responding to you” Draco said quickly.
Why wouldn’t it work?
He checked his watch again while Potter cast a lumous, and a stream of light exploded in the small space. Two minutes. He then tried to cast his patronus again. “I can do it–”
“Yes well, clearly not right now” he tried. Potter looked up like he might break a rule if Draco said another word. He paused, “That came out wrong”
When he made another futile attempt, and again it didn't work he began trying other spells. Ones designed to destroy. He tried every angle he could find, in the space he occupied.
“Bombarda. It's not working” he spun to look Draco dead on, “Malfoy, it should work…something's wrong.” he pointed a reducto at the lift doors, and again it came away unscathed, as Potter’s breaths came faster. His hands began to shake.
“Keep trying” Draco checked the time, a little longer couldn't hurt, they were in this deep anyway, “Confringo?” he suggested.
Potter nodded rapidly, “Confringo” he cast. The tiles singed but didn't light, the doors were left untouched still. He shot the same spell again and again with the same result.
When Draco next checked his pocket watch he decided enough had been enough and snatched his wand back from Potter, who released it reluctantly. He cast as fast as he could the first spell he thought of. A simple accio, and Pansy’s handbag flew into his waiting palm. He let out a sigh of relief. It felt exactly the same, no damage.
He stood there for a moment, clutching his wand to his chest. His body tense all over bracing for impact, for the next thing to go wrong. For the lift to drop, for the magic to give out and swallow them whole, for this brief reprieve to be ripped away. His pulse hadn't caught up yet, still too fast, still too forced.He forced himself to breathe through it, to return to his body…slow, controlled, deliberate.
His relief was short-lived when he turned his attention back to the other occupant of the lift. Potter had slumped on the floor and put his head in his hands, his unruly hair clenched between white fingers.
Draco frowned. “Hey. I thought I was the one panicking here. You said it would be fine” He slid his wand back up his sleeve, for safe keeping.
“Shut up.” Potter snapped, scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, it sounded less like a command and more like a plea. Unfortunately Draco didn't catch that straight away he tapped Potter's knee with his leather bound foot “Oh please” he started, and then pushed on, “just because you couldn't get us out. Oh saviour”
Potter's head shot up and his eyes that were glistening with unshed tears narrowed in on him. “I thought…” he swallowed, inhaled sharply, “I thought this was a stupid mistake– Magic acts up sometimes, right? No biggie.”
His voice cracked around a laugh…
Sharp
wrong
“We can't get out, Malfoy,” he dragged his hands through his hair, gripping until his knuckles went white, “what if no one comes…what if–” his breath hitched, cutting himself off.
Draco stared. The only person who had ever cried in front of him (for any reason other than grief) was Pans and that was when he'd pushed her in the lake on the grounds of the manor at age five.
He wasn't adept at comfort, giving it or in fact receiving it. He just stood there like a lump with his arms at his sides while Potter continued to cry into his knees. Well. That was one way to forget his own problems.
He crouched down in front of him “don’t…”
Brilliant.
He hesitated before patting Potter's shoulder “there, there-”
Potter recoiled like he'd been burned by feindfire, throwing himself into the corner holding out his hands to defend himself, before Draco could finish his admittedly lacking words of comfort.
Draco withdrew his hand instantly “Right. Never doing that again.”
Potter was shaking and keeping his eyes trained on him like he was a wild animal about to attack. “Sorry” he said shakily and sat down across from him with his back against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible, so Potter could try and control his laboured breathing.
He hadn't meant to startle him, but he supposed he should have thought better of it. If their roles had been reversed Draco would have reacted in a similar fashion. Where was his consideration?
He looked up to where Potter's jaw had tightened, his fists clenched. Draco cleared his throat. Right, this was intolerable. “Do you think it is strange how the theme of the event was unity and yet the only kind of music they played called for a traditional style of dance that not all those in attendance have had the training in. Namely muggle borns or those who grew up with an inequality in terms of money.”
“What?” Potter glared, fear dissipating and being replaced by anger shifting his weight up. That wasn't exactly the direction he had been hoping for but for now it would do.
“No, I'm just saying. If the whole ball was supposed to be in the spirit of unity and equality as such. Then they should have branched out with some of the entertainment. You know so there was less of a cultural divide.” he shrugged “I can’t have been the only one to notice the same groups of people on the floor as compared to those who were not. It was feeling a little…snobby. Do you not think so?”
“I don't understand what you're talking about. Honestly sometimes you confuse the–” Potter breathed cutting himself off mid thought and let his head thud on the wall behind him, he kept his eyes on Draco waiting for more explanation but he seemed to have calmed down a bit. That was good. Now they could get back to, getting out of there.
“Well I was talking about the music. But it appears you are not educated enough to hold a political conversation. It's either that or your panic attack has caused your brain to produce too much adrenaline for you to keep one train of thought going long enough to come up with an eloquent rebuttal on the topic. No matter. So if we can't call for help, what should we do?”
“Wait it out” he said, running his hands through his hair, and adjusting his glasses on his nose.
He blew out a breath “Okay”
Draco checked the time just to see how late it was and how pissed off Pansy was going to be at him when he eventually made it out of this god forsaken lift. It was quarter to midnight, he'd left the ball nearly an hour ago to fetch Pansy’s bag. By all rights he should be dangerously liquored by now, sweet talking some handsome dark haired man with sparkly eyes. Instead he was sat in an awkward silence with the wizarding world's most eligible bachelor, on a gross tiled floor.. The universe was a cruel mistress.
He started wondering what Pansy had done when he hadn't shown up. She could still be waiting but he doubted it. More likely she stuck around for ten minutes before deciding to head to the bar or to bed by herself. Probably assuming draco had fucked off without her, birkin bag in tow.
Knowing her, she was back at her flat, her dinner was ordered and on its way, her evening gown was hung up, her unscuffed shoes placed back on the rack. She would have on her silk pjs and a facemask watching sex and the city, a glass of red hanging loosely from her hand, reclined on her couch covered by her softest blankets. She was probably thinking about brunch, what kind of story draco would show up with. Probably hoping for something juicy. Boy, was she in for a shock.
He'd been playing with the tassel on her handbag, staring into space, zoned out in his own head when Potter spoke again, “I can’t just sit here. It’s doing my head in”
“Potter. We’re trapped, by accident or no, in a confined metal box. No exit in sight”
“Yeah,” Potter nodded.
“And you’re bored”
“Yeah”
“Unbelieveable.” Draco replied, “Well, I’ll take bored over dead or panicking. So, good job”
“No, I mean like let's do something. Play a game or whatever” Potter said, sitting up straight and scooting a little further towards him. He did a little drum role on the floor and grinned goofily.
“In case it has escaped your notice, Potter; there aren't too many chess sets or exploding snaps around here,” he sneered, and let out a breath. When was this hell going to end? It had to have been a few hours at least. The gala must be over, surely someone had to have tried the main fucking lift in the building and found it out of use? Surely someone was working on figuring out what had gone wrong.
Please Merlin, let someone be figuring out what was wrong.
Potter must have remembered who he was with because he slouched back against the wall with a moody huff and downright childish pout on his lips and said “Okay, there are other games. But whatever nevermind forget i said anything”
“Done” Draco said just as testily, because it's not like they were friends, they were unwilling participants in a tortured experiment by the universe to see which one of them would crack first and kill the other.
He lasted a record five minutes in the awkward silence in which time he adjusted his collar and his shirt cuffs, checked the time, crossed uncrossed and then recrossed his legs before he gave up on the pretense and offered a pathetic barely there “like what?”.
He could see the hope behind Potter's eyes when he looked up, for reasons unknown it seemed to steal his breath. The earnestness in that one look was almost more than he could bear. Merlin, he was decidedly not drunk enough for these tight fucking corners.
“We could. I don’t know. There's, Truth or dare, never have I ever, would you rather. Or something like that, two truths and a lie, umm, the voting game, at least I think that's what it's called. Take your pick” Potter listed scooting closer once again, like he would take any excuse to not sit still. He had his elbows up on his knees tapping his feet in anticipation.
Draco knew a grand total of one of those games and the last time he had played he'd admitted that he had lost his virginity to Theodore Nott, lost his shoes, wound up utterly pissed and woke up in a children's park with Pansy and Blaise.
Although since his pride probably couldnt take others being explained to him by Harry fucking Potter he went with it “Iv’e played truth or dare” he admitted but he did have one complaint “we don't have any drink for a forfeit.”
Potter raised a challenging eyebrow and said almost threateningly “We don't have to do forfeits…if you don't forfeit”
“No I meant you” he retorted with pinched eyes, “i would never”. While Draco was not so egotistical (anymore) as to always take every challenge that came his way, he had always been famously incapable of backing down from Potter without putting up one hell of a fight.
Potter grinned and twirled his hand in the air royally, “Oh right of course. My mistake, my liege,” he said in a pompous accent, he met Draco’s eyes and smirked, running his tongue over his teeth.
If Draco thought it was odd that one look stole his breath, he wasn't particularly ready for the chill that that smirk sent down his spine. The air surrounding them heated. Draco broke the moment by looking away quickly. He said “piss off” and damned his voice for sounding unnerved.
“Go on then” Potter said casually, almost nonchalant if it weren’t for the colour high on his cheeks.
Draco, who had forgotten what they had even been talking about, said “What?”
“Truth or dare?” Potter offered slowly as if the drawn out syllables would help sink the idea into his head.
His mouth had gone briefly dry but he snapped himself out of his head and attempted to recover some control. "Shouldn't we flip a coin or something to see who goes first. Fairs fair”
Potter shrugged “Sure.”
He nodded and rummaged through Pansy’s bag to find her purse and pulled out a coin. He held it against his palm and reached back into her bag to retrieve the bottled water he'd spotted.
He took a sip and because he wasn't a total monster offered it to Potter who closed his palm around it eagerly, grazing Draco's own hand for a singular second. The touch while fleeting was electrifying, Potter's hand seemed warm against his own chronically freezing digits. The other man took a big sip of water tipping his head back in a way Draco assumed had to have been for his benefit, it was that dramatic. He wiped his hand over his mouth and gave back the bottle. He didn't say thank you.
He winked at him.
Like that was a normal thing to do. When it completely, totally, utterly, categorically was not!
Mouth agape Draco tossed the coin into the air and practically shouted “Your call”.
Potter said “Heads” cool as anything, before the coin landed between them with a clink. Draco spared a moment to think ‘predictable guess’. The coin landed and Potter kissed his teeth “That's a pound”.
Draco stared at him. Completely forgetting his earlier unease. “Yes” he blinked, “and that’s tales. So Mr Potter, truth or dare”
“Truth” Potter answered, moving on from what was apparently a shocking revelation over the British currency.
It's a curious thing that the wizarding world's bravest man didn't choose dare, even if it would have just been to inflate his own ego. He considered a few different things he was curious about and debated the validity with which Potter would answer in any case. He decided to ask something he was fairly certain of the answer to, just to test his theory. He wasn't exactly sorted Slytherin for nothing now was he? “Did Granger write that speech or was it Robards?”
“Robards” he seemed confused by the question but answered anyway. Draco did a slight victory dance in his head. Potter’s honesty was always something Draco found disconcerting, though it seemed now it would play to his advantage.
“Figures,” Draco said breezily. Nothing to read into there.
Potter did this odd hand gesture that Draco interpreted as a non verbal ‘truth or dare?’. “Truth” obviously.
“Where do you work?” Potter asked as if he didn't really care for an answer.
Draco searched his face for any other motives than idle curiosity. “I don’t” he answered steadily. It wasn’t a lie, he didn't ‘work’ in the way other wiccan did. The fines from the ministry had barely touched his fortune and he'd donated (anonymously) double the fines to war repair and the rebuilding of Hogwarts.
So while he didn't technically need money, he hadn't spent a penny from the Malfoy vaults in years. The whole truth would have been an embarrassing, ‘I'm working part time at a quaint little coffee shop to pay rent and put myself through muggle medical school’. Anyways, he didn’t want nor need Potter’s pity or worse, whatever that would look like.
Seemingly unsatisfied with Draco’s response; Potter rolled his eyes and said “right, course”.
Draco thought perhaps what he'd really meant by that question was more ‘what do you do with your days’, and maybe he'd taken the whole ‘work’ part too literally.
Oddly enough he felt sort of guilty for not giving a more honest answer, but it is what it is. And it wasn't like he exactly owed Potter any real explanation on his life. “Your go” he said, dampened.
“Yeah okay, dare” he offered, like it was nothing. Like Draco couldn't ask him to do something outrageous.
“Gryffindor,” he remarked.
“Thats the idea”
He took a minute to look at their surroundings and concluded “there's not much you can do from in here”
Potter crossed his ankles and leaned in closer, his head resting on his palm and whispered “I mean…I’m sure there's something.” Draco was almost certain he saw the other man's gaze drop to his lips, but he had looked away and leaned back again before he could confirm. His heart beat in his chest rapidly when Potter breathed “go on” completely unaware of what that seemed to ignite in his green eyes.
Draco's lip twitched, “oh I will”. He didn't miss the blush on Potter's cheeks this time, or the way his eyes glued to his for a second too long, before shifting away.
Draco considered the possibility of this entire situation being one of the beginnings of his wet dreams. Potter was being far too open and comfortable for the whole thing to be real. It was a ridiculous thought of course, he was probably reading too much into things. Though the butterflies in his stomach and the voice in his head begged to differ.
One thing he was sure the real Potter would turn down, if anything, was a handshake. He had that first day on the train. And if that had stuck with him as much as it did draco, then surely there was no way on Merlin's green earth that he would agree. It was like an unspoken rule they had. Would testing the ridiculous idea that Draco was asleep be worth that risk. No. but was the idea he was asleep more or less ridiculous than the idea that potter was fucking flirting with him?
“Shake my hand” he blurted out before he thoughts could spin any further out of control.
Potter looked like he'd just been slapped, his face dropped and his jaw went swinging “What?” he said quickly.
He met his eyes unwavering “You heard me” he said more confidently than he felt.
Potter visibly gulped when Draco held his hand aloft. He glanced between his hand and his face a few times, while Draco tried not to shake. This was so stupid its just a fucking hand shake, no big deal. Lie.
After about thirty seconds in which time Draco fought his own instinct to snap his hand away, Potter seemed to resolve his reluctance and grasped Draco's palm in his own. He squeezed harder than strictly necessary and shook.
When he tried to let go, Draco held firm and pulled Potter closer, to whisper in his ear– far too seductively– “see, that wasn't so hard was it, hmm?” and only then did he try to let go.
Potter had frozen above him, properly this time. For half a second he didn't let go. Draco noticed and then Potter noticed that he had noticed and scrambled away trying to play it off as nothing.
“Well,” Draco said plucking non existent lint from his sleeve, “that was completely ridiculous”
With wide eyes Potter said, “It was your dare, Malfoy!” gesturing at him with both hands.
“True. And I already have many regrets, what's one more?”.
Yes, he was screaming at himself internally. Yes, his face felt warm. And yes, he then avoided eye contact and said “lets play something else”
Potter cleared his throat and sputtered a few times, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again as the right words escaped him. That was secretly dracos greatest accomplishment in life. He had rendered Harry Potter speechless. Harry Potter, who never knew when to shut up, had no words.
Deciding to help him out he offered “what was that, two lies and a truth or something” that seemed like fun, watching the chosen one attempt lying could be entertaining. It would also go a hell of a long way in helping him distract himself from what he had just done.
“Uhh, yeah. No I mean no. It umm, two truths and a lie. Did you? Do…are…what?” he stuttered, face redder than the gryffindor crest.
Before Potter could continue and say something that neither of them would be able to recover from he asked “And how do you play that?”.
The embarrassing side of admitting he didn't know something that Potter did, was being entirely glossed over by the other man's whole demeanor. Draco doubted he'd currently care.
Maybe he never would have.
Running his hands through his thick unruly hair, scootching back slightly, like he was trying to collect himself he said, “Right, yeah. Umm… So one person says three statements: two things that are true and one thing that is a lie and the other person tries to guess which one the lie is” Potter spoke to the ceiling, taking the out and avoiding further discussion on…that.
After Potter’s explanation he was feeling more comfortable again, moved on from the handshake, so he had no idea why the next words he spoke were, “Sounds easy enough, do you want head?”.
“WHAT?!!”
“The coin, Potter. Do you want heads again?” He raised a brow. Thanking the Malfoy lessons in public decorum for the first time in years. Without them he would probably be gauping and stuttering and making excuses. Why the ‘s’ had dropped off of the end of that word he could not tell you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
“There's something very fucking wrong with you!”
“Yes, I've been informed” Draco said mortified.
Potter dragged his hands down his face leaving his palms on his cheeks as he stared at Draco like he had a shark head.
“I will take that as a yes then. Even though statistically a coin will land on tails 51% of the time. But whatever.” He tossed the coin and watched it fall as Potter just kept gawping at him. It landed against Potter's booted foot and rolled a little before landing, “Heads. Okay do you want to guess first or do you want me to?”
“I don't understand you” Potter marvelled, throwing his hands in the air and letting them fall heavily at his sides.
Trying with all of his might to play dumb as fuck, he scoffed “It's simple physics Potter. The tails side of a coin is slightly heavier than that of heads, so you know it…no, you know what, I can't explain this to you you’re too thick”
There was a window before anyone spoke again where they just stared at each other. Every passing second was torture.
Eventually though Potter let it go and decided “okay, you can guess then,” he tapped his fingers rhythmically against his knee as he thought, a task that came across as very trying for him. Finally he went with “umm,” and Draco snorted derisively before Potter listed “I can play guitar. I love pineapple on pizza. I can speak five languages”
“Pineapple on pizza is disgusting Potter”.
Eww.
“Is that your guess?” he snapped, way too protective over his opinion on pizza toppings.
“No, of course not, I'm critiquing your tastes. You can't speak five languages, that's the lie. Obviously” he proclaimed, no doubt, “You can barely speak English.”
Ignoring that dig Potter mumbled “Im surprised you know what pizza is actually”
“Good for you. My turn then. I'm a morning person. I speak five languages. I've never touched the ocean.” he declared, looking as smug as he could manage.
“You're not supposed to use the same lie,” Potter protested, laughing and shaking his head. Sending his hair to and fro, coming away messier than it usually was. Weird, Draco had thought that was impossible.
“Qu’est-ce qui vous fait croire que c’est un mensonge?” ‘What makes you think that's the lie?’ he said through a smile. He then stood to stretch his legs, they'd been sitting on the floor so long his arse had gone numb.
“No fucking way. What other languages?” Potter all but shouted. Rising to his feet as well, his knees cracked on his way up, Draco noted as he stretched his arms over his head to try and loosen the stiffness in his back.
“Wouldn't you like to know. Are you done guessing? Does that mean I win?” he asked, removing his tie fully, because who was he kidding he had been so uncomfortable all night. Besides it was only potter in here to see him and it's not like he had much of a sense of propriety himself anyways.
Potter tracked the movement but didn't comment, he just kept on playing and Draco was silently grateful for that “No okay, so you're not a morning person?”
“You are awful at this game” Draco remarked smirking as he leaned against the wall deciding to stay stood up for a little while at least. It was starting to get colder in the lift so he pulled out his wand and cast a warming charm.
Potter didn't flinch.
“Or maybe you're just freakishly good at it. Thanks” he rubbed his palms together, snickering.
“Merlin, how long have we been in here?” he was far past ready for this to be over “I want my bed” he admitted without thinking.
Thankfully Potter didn't seem to think it strange that Draco would yearn for his bed, his bed with sheets from Primark and pillows from Next and yet was somehow more comfortable than the one he grew up sleeping on. With its featherdown pillows, bed hangings and multi-layered mattress. He was more hung up on the game “wait. You've never been in the ocean? Like ever?” he said, disbelieving.
“Uh-hu” Draco admitted, yawning, nodding his head unenthusiastically.
“Really?” Potter was still unconvinced.
“Really”
This didn't seem like a hard concept to grasp. It wasn't uncommon for someone Draco's age to have never ventured to the ocean side. He could think of a hundred things he probably had done that Potter didn't even know was a possibility. Like the time he flew without a broom, or when he had driven that car into a ditch. Point being, it wasn't weird!
“Why?” Potter asked with his head tilted to one side, like Draco was a puzzle he just couldn't figure out.
“Well I didn’t quite fancy drowning Potter” he smirked tapping his feet. There really had to be something going on with this lift. Sure magical buildings were known for their sporadic decisions. But he'd never heard of the ministry building forcing two people to suffer in each other's company.
Potter shrugged off his outer robe and let it pool on the floor. Leaving him in a moth eaten t-shirt and –for Merlin's sakes– tight, light-blue, denims. “What, you can't swim?”
Distracted, “Hmm, never learned” slipped out quite without his permission.
When Potter looked up again he laughed a little, not in a mocking way. In a more ‘yes I caught that’ kind of way. A light chuckle in the back of his throat.
“What about you, what's with the stag?” he grinned saying “performance issues?”
Potter nodded and laughed self-deprecatingly, “Right, my inability to cast a patronus while being magically held hostage. Was performance issues”
“No need to bite” he held his hands up, huffed and let them fall, “Seriously though. Is it me?”
“No. No, I swear.” he stepped closer waving his hands to emphasise his point “It's more like a block I guess. It's like it's there but it won't come through. Sure i've had some trouble after the war but it's not that. I think something else is stopping it.”
Draco folded his arms over his chest, “Like?”
“Oh i don’t know probably like whatever is keeping us stuck in here”
“Makes sense. What’s your advice then? More waiting. Maybe the other two thirds of your gaggle of do-gooders would have been more useful. Granger for sure.” He tipped his head to the side, “Perhaps not weasel”
Potter's playful demeanor vanished in an instant, walls rebuilt around him as though they'd never left, “Watch it” he bit.
“What? It was a compliment. He's more…fun loving” Draco retorted, removing no snark from his voice.
“Right. Because you're so big on compliments” he rolled his eyes and tapped his toe on the unmoving doors. Or rather kicked.
“Oh please, if there were anything worth complimenting here, I would” Draco muttered under his breath, pointedly not looking at Potter. The lift creaked around them before settling into an awkward, stagnant, silence. As the moment settled in, so did the cold. The only thing he could hear were Potter's breaths, sharp and loud on every exhale.
It stretched.
Too long.
And then it broke.
“Why do you keep bothering me?” Draco spat quickly into the silence.
Potter looked up at him and stepped closer, “what?”. His expression unchanged, still guarded, defensive. Makes sense.
“Well, talking to me then” he clarified sharper. After all he'd asked now. No turning back. “Every time I see you. I walk into a room and it's like you're just there. Ready with some insult to ruin my day”
Potter scoffed –at him!- and threw his arms out to his sides sharply, “I work there malfoy!”
“Don’t” draco cut in, pushing off the wall, pointing an accusing finger at his chest, “don’t give me that. Plenty of people work there. I'm not constantly having to avoid all of them. Am I?”
Potter met his gaze unwaveringly, “so it’s true then. You have been avoiding me. On purpose.”
“Well, I wouldn't have to if you didn’t keep showing up, fucking everywhere!” he shoved him by the shoulder.
He didn't budge an inch, “But you are!”
Potter shoved him back, his back hitting the wall behind him, “Of course I am!”
“Fucking WHY?!” Potter stared at him then. Like he didn't get it, like he really didn't understand. Like he couldn't possibly fathom the fact–
“Yeah. cause its not obvious” he huffed and potter kept staring at him. Waiting. Hurt. Draco scoffed, “why do you think?”
Potter nodded then let his head lull between his shoulders for a second, “no”. He shook his head, meeting Draco's silver stare again, “not good enough, i want to hear you say it”
That–
Draco breath hitched, a barely there inhale, and pushed off the wall before he could think better of it, “you won’t like the answer”
Potter didn't move
Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
“Try me”
They were too close now. Close enough that Draco could feel the heat radiating from his body. Why was it that he always seemed so warm when draco always felt like he was butt naked in the arctic. Stupid thought.
Draco released a stuttering breath, “you’re…there” he said softer now despite the butterflies setting off in his stomach, “and you. You look at me like–”
He stopped himself. Too far. Too true.
Potter leaned in just slightly and whispered “like what?”
Why was it he felt like crying, he closed his eyes “like you forgive me”
Potter's lips parted around a gasp. And for a second neither of them moved an inch, breathing in the same air the other was expelling. Their foreheads a whisper of distance between them.
Idiot.
He almost stepped back. Almost laughed hysterically and twisted it into something cruel, something safe.
But Potter didn’t move.
So Draco didn’t either.
Draco forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at the wreckage that would come from his admittance, to find that Potter's ever so bright gaze had darkened in a way Draco didn't fear. At the same time they both leaned in, noses grazing, a brush of skin–
The lift jolted.
Potter grabbed onto his shoulder instinctively, as Draco clutched at his wrist. The doors swung open, crashing into the walls on either side of them, to cries of “ they’re here”, a dust cloud coming up around them “we found them!”
They shot apart from each other. The blinding lights flooded in as the debris was vanished. The warmth hit Draco like a portkey to India, chasing away the chill of the lift. He looked to the side of the lift Potter had flung himself too, to find him wrapped up in long freckled limbs and big brown bushy hair.
Potter met his stare once more over Granger and Weasley’s shoulder’s , a small smile on his lips, a twinkle in his eye, something almost regretful. He was crushed in the side by a short woman with a fierce haircut and a gorgeous perfume that made his head spin. He dropped Potter's gaze and turned fully into Pansy, kissing the top of her head.
Something that wasn't quite relief settled in his chest.
Blinking away the whooshing in his head he whispered in her ear, “you waited?”
“Oh, darling, you have no idea,” she said, releasing him. She looked to Potter then back at him with a knowing grin, “well, if all else. At least brunch will be interesting”
He still felt off footed when she grabbed his hand and began pulling him away, “Ta-ra, Gryffindor’s.” she said to the trio as they stepped out into the atrium.
Pansy had an iron grip on his upper arm dragging him towards the floos, he looked back to his weird little metal box, looked back to Potter surrounded by his friends.
For the first time in a while, he didn't want to run.