分卷阅读8（2 / 2）

Draco’s eyes followed his every move as he squeezed Weasley’s shoulder and went on to greet the rest of the group. Thank Merlin Draco wasn’t there right now. He quickly turned back to Luna, who had a curious look on her face.

“I need to go to the loo,” Draco announced and hurried away. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him, flushed and a little startled. He should go home now. Nothing good would come out of going back to that table. He’d only be torturing himself. No, his mind corrected, Potter would be torturing him. All of this was Potter’s fault. That bastard! How dare he!

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he willed his cheeks to pale again. No, he wouldn’t give Potter that much power. He would go out there and prove he could stand up to him. Maybe he’d even find Potter wasn’t that great at all. Because, really, he wasn’t. He was just an annoying prat, with his annoying hair, his annoying eyes, his annoying voice, his annoying dimples, his annoying—Ugh!

Draco squared his shoulders as he walked back to the table. Granger was telling a story, it appeared.

“Potter,” Draco said, forcing his voice to sound low. A few heads turned, including Potter’s. He was looking at Draco as if he had been waiting to see him. Momentarily taken aback, Draco cleared his throat before he spoke again. “You’re in my seat,” he said flatly.

“Oh,” Potter replied, eloquently, making no move to get up. He looked around, took out his wand and flicked it once. Draco gasped as he was suddenly knocked off his feet, only to find himself sitting in a chair, wedged between Luna and Potter. “There you go,” the prat said, grinning, before he turned his attention back to Granger.

What the fuck! How was Draco supposed to act dignified when this was what he had to put up with?

He automatically reached for his wine, but stopped when he noticed there were two drinks in front of him.

“I ordered you one as well,” Luna said, pointing at the purple drink. “But I didn’t want to cancel the wine, in case you wanted to scowl a little more. You seem to like doing that.”

Baffled, Draco looked at the drink, then at Luna. He couldn’t tell if she was making fun of him. She took her own glass and raised it.

“Cheers,” she said, smiling at him. Slowly, Draco mimicked her pose, finally clinking their glasses together. He peeked sideways as he drank, wrinkling his nose as he spotted the beer in front of Potter. The prat really had no taste. Figures.

He tried to fidget as little as possible, concentrating on the conversations, which was hard; Gryffindors are loud. The other thing that was rather distracting was Blaise, drumming his fingers against his glass while he was smiling lazily at Potter. The two of them were having their own conversation, with Blaise touching Potter’s arm every now and then. Draco wanted to hex them. He was pretty sure his cheeks were a flaming red again, but he could always blame it on the alcohol.

“How come you’re still in training?” Blaise asked, shifting in his seat and moving closer to Potter. “You should be Head Auror by now.”

“Yeah, well…” Potter said, evasively. For a moment, Draco felt incredibly smug for knowing the truth.

“I bet the training is hard,” Blaise purred. “You must have quite the stamina.” A wicked grin was plastered on his face as he dragged a finger from Potter’s shoulder down his arm. Draco almost crushed the glass in his hand at the sight. Potter let out a hearty laugh but, to Draco’s relief, he leaned away from Blaise. Unfortunately, that led him to move closer to Draco. In one swift motion, that almost seemed absentminded, he even slung his arm around the back of Draco’s chair. Holy…shit.

Potter wasn’t touching him, but Draco’s back suddenly felt too warm. He restrained from squirming and emptied his glass instead. Blaise was still grinning; hell, the bastard looked far too pleased with himself as he continued bombarding Potter with questions. Draco tried to ignore them, balling his hands into fists under the table until he could feel his nails cutting into his skin.

“That is so fascinating,” Blaise said, dreamily. “I’ve always admired your wand-work. We all know how endowed you are with it.”

Something menacing and savage roared inside Draco’s chest. He didn’t realise he was literally shaking with rage, until Potter suddenly turned around to him. Draco felt a warm hand on his shoulder as Potter’s expression turned from amused to concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asked, squeezing Draco’s shoulder. Draco jumped, as if a stinging hex had just been flung at him. He leaned away from Potter’s touch, realising much too late that he had leaned into Potter’s body, as if he were trying to snuggle into his chest. Oh, damn it.

“I’m marvellous,” he said through gritted teeth. “No need to get handsy, Potter.”