分卷阅读9（2 / 2）

“Two weeks ago,” Potter said.

“Well, well, well,” Blaise said, gazing at Draco. “You never said anything.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” Draco drawled, refusing to look at Potter.

“You were a lot nicer then, Malfoy,” Potter muttered.

“Hey, why don’t you start calling him Draco?” Blaise smirked. “Since, you know, you guys already went on a date and everything.”

“It wasn’t a date!”

“Oh, shush, you lucky bastard.”

Draco wanted to grab Blaise and shake him. What did he think he was doing?

“Um…I mean, I could—If you—”

Draco turned to face Potter, who was suddenly rather flustered.

“I wouldn’t mind calling you by your first name,” he said.

Instinctively, Draco rolled his eyes. “Do I look like I care?”

“Alright…Draco.”

It was as if fireworks had just gone off somewhere around his midriff and the heat was turning his insides into warm, molten chocolate.

Fuck.

“Whatever, Potter.”

“You…err—You can also call me Harry…if you want.”

Draco snorted, masking his nervousness. “Don’t count on it, Potter,” he said in his most superior voice, while he pressed his palms against his thighs to keep his hands from shaking.

“He’ll come around,” Blaise said with a dismissive gesture. “He’s a bit timid.”

Potter snorted into his beer and started coughing. “Right,” he spluttered.