分卷阅读2（2 / 2）

It felt good, seeing Potter stare at him in astonishment. It took the edge off the heat that was spreading in Draco’s chest.

“Fair enough,” Potter said. “I’m looking forward to having my mind changed.”

And just like that, the heat was back, tenfold, devouring Draco from the inside.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Potter said, and it didn’t escape Draco’s notice he moved a bit closer.

No. NO! This was exactly what Draco hadn’t wanted to happen, even though he hadn’t thought he’d actually have to worry about it. He couldn’t have Potter snooping around… right in front of him.

“Not much,” he said evenly, keeping his face impassive. “Just…living my life, I guess.” He picked up the wine the bartender had left for him and took a sip.

“What is your life like these days?” Potter asked. Draco couldn’t detect an undertone. He sounded genuinely curious. However, Draco didn’t want to discuss that with him. He didn’t want to discuss anything with Potter right now. He was short of breath and, surely, Potter would notice. His gaze darted to his left and, acting as though someone had just waved him over, he put on an almost convincing smile.

“So sorry to cut this short, but it seems I’m needed elsewhere.”

Without waiting for a reply, Draco hurried through the crowd, until he felt like he put enough distance between them. He bumped into a group of middle-aged witches who were quick to engage him in conversation. Draco did his best to laugh at their jokes and to seem interested in their wittering, but ultimately excused himself again when one of the witches started complaining about how exhausting redecorating her parlour was.

Where the hell was Pansy, Draco asked himself for the umpteenth time. She’d probably be able to keep Potter away with just a glance. But, unfortunately, she was nowhere to be seen. What was even more unfortunate was the fact that Draco was so lost in thought, he didn’t realise who was standing in front of him until it was too late.

“Hey,” Potter simply said.

Didn’t he have any other words in his repertoire? He said it in such a nonchalant way, too. As if they were old friends. It was too casual. It was infuriating. Draco kept his face neutral while his insides boiled.

“You know, I was wondering if—”

“Oh, look at that,” Draco said, gesturing to Potter’s empty hands. “You don’t have a drink. I’ll get you one.”

Before Potter could say anything else, Draco strutted away, his chin held high. He’d rather be dead than let Potter know what he was doing to him. He told one of the waiters to get Harry freaking Potter a drink, who, in turn, looked mortified at having neglected the unofficial guest of honour.

Draco grabbed yet another glass of wine himself before he spotted Blaise near the balcony.

“Are we behaving tonight, or are we getting pissed?” Blaise asked in a seemingly innocent tone.

“We’re behaving,” Draco said, emphatically.

“Really? Because you look like you’re already halfway there.” Blaise nodded at his face, making Draco frown. “You’re flushed. It’s quite dinky.”

“Shut up,” Draco snapped, almost gulping down the whole glass. But Blaise was right. His face was too warm and his tongue felt a little heavy. He quickly scanned the room for Potter, who was now wedged between two wizards. They almost looked like they were trying to convince him to accompany them home after the gala. One of them was playing with the hair near his ear, while the other had his elbow on his shoulder and touched a finger to his chin every now and then. Draco inadvertently wondered what it would feel like to touch Potter like that; his index finger under his chin, while his thumb stroked his bottom lip…