|0idontknow0 (0idontknow0) wrote,|
@ 2013-12-28 00:47:00
|Entry tags:||advent drabble things, christmas, ficlet, harry/draco, pg13, the spirit of yule compels you|
Looking After Answers
Title: Looking After Answers
Pairing: Harry/Draco pre-slash
Summary: Draco asks Harry what the hell is up with his behaviour.
Prompt: adventdrabbles' #25 & #27 Christmas tree & Gingerbread.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and publishers. No offence is meant by this fan fiction and it is made purely for fun.
Word Count: ~600
A/N: Other fics in this verse I'd Like a Taste of Your Candy Cane, Shocked Senseless, More Obvious Than You Think,He Likes Me (He Likes Me Not), A Little Less Ignorant, Admitting It Aloud and A Surprise Guest.
Right, so Draco was at Potter's place after a far too spontaneous decision to Apparate there. What now? He did not want to ask for a hot toddy, more alcohol would not be smart. At all. Draco needed his wits about him if Potter decided to throw him out on whimsy. Why was Draco even putting himself through this torture? Potter was still infuriating. Really, who slams the door in someone's face without so much as a word -not even an angry exclamation!
Draco was not getting over that any time soon. His pride was too hurt. Too hurt. So hurt. His pride. He was sure some of it was still shattered on Potter's doorstep. All right, this sort of thinking is precisely why Draco needed to avoid more alcohol.
"Er…" Potter sounded, looking fidgety and at a loss as to what to do next. He downed what little was left of the booze in his tumbler and turned towards the… kitchen. "Did- Did you want something to drink or eat or… something?"
"I wouldn't mind something to nibble at," he said, eyes roaming the house as he hung his winter robes.
The place was moderately neat. There were a few things that looked like they belonged to other rooms but it was more or less clean. There was a small Christmas tree in a corner of the room that was positively glowing. Draco was not sure if it was glowing quite as much as he thought it was though.
"Well… I have…" Potter began. "I have… not much actually. Your options are gingerbread, regular bread and… ham. Oh, I have honey... and jam…"
"Toast and honey sounds fine," he said, not knowing where to put himself. He decided to just go to the kitchen since Potter was there.
"Right," Potter nodded, before fumbling around with the bread and some sort of Muggle device. "Something to drink?"
"Water's fine," he shrugged, fiddling with the… it was a really tall glass with a lid and a base full of buttons.
Potter poured him and glass and held it out to him before seeming to think better of that and putting it on the counter. He was always avoiding touching Draco. It was frustrating really.
"Why do you keep doing that?" he asked. "Avoiding me."
"When did I avoid you?" Potter asked.
Draco glared at him. "Just now," he said. "With the water."
"Look, I'm not doing it on purpose," Potter said, cheeks tinged pink.
How was that any better in Potter's point of view? Was Draco supposed to find comfort in the fact that he reflexively avoided him? What was the logic behind that? He did not see how it was any better. It was worse. By far. Worse.
"Oh my- I didn't mean it like that," Potter hurried. "I just- I- I'm getting to it."
Potter whispered the last bit and Draco was not at all sure if it was directed at him or not. He was sort of scared to ask. Bloody hell! Was Potter mental? Great. Just bloody great. Never mind that Draco muttered things to himself sometimes too. They just did not normally sound so much like something you said to someone else.
"Look, Malfoy, I don't hate you or anything," Potter said, eyes fixed on Draco's shoulder. "I'm just absolutely terrified of my feelings for-"
The thing Potter had put the toast in made a frightening, springy, clicky sort of noise that made Draco practically jump out of his skin. "Holy fucking shit!" he yelped, grabbing his wand. "What the hell is it doing?"
Potter sighed and took the, now toasted, slices of bread out and tossed them onto a plate. "Here, your toast is ready," he said, defeated, before going for the honey and a butter knife.