分卷阅读20（1 / 2）

Draco slowly nodded, too confused to speak properly.

When he put the suit in his wardrobe that evening, he stared at it for longer than was probably normal. But he couldn’t help it. Not only did that suit look completely out of place, next to his other clothes, it also felt out of place. Because that suit seemed to be holding a promise; a promise Draco was fairly sure Potter wouldn’t be able to keep.

Saturday, 18 January 2003

“I brought you something,” Potter said as he stepped out of the fireplace. Draco peeked over and saw he was holding a bottle of Ogden’s finest.

“At least you have the sense to come bearing gifts,” he drawled, not bothering to get out of his armchair and turning his attention back to his book.

“Well, I thought since we emptied that fancy bottle of wine the other night, I’d make up for it.”

“Fancy,” Draco snorted. Potter really had no idea. “That wine costs 190 Galleons.”

Potter stared at him. “What? Why would you pay 190 Galleons for a bottle of wine? That’s insane!”

Draco pinched the bridge of nose and shook his head. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t understand, even if I explained it to you.”

“Aw, you know how much I like it when you’re being all snooty and contemptuous,” Potter sniggered. He walked over to Draco, swinging one leg onto the armrest. Draco inched away from him, eyeing him sceptically.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for you to get us glasses,” Potter shrugged.

“You know where they are,” Draco retorted. “Don’t act like you haven’t been here almost every day for the last week. You probably know this place better than me by now.”

Potter grinned and jumped off the armrest. Draco wanted to point out he could have just summoned the glasses, but he kept his mouth shut as his eyes wandered down to Potter’s backside. It was a shame he seemed to prefer loose clothing. Then again, it left so much more room for Draco’s imagination, which, on second thought, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Daydreaming about Potter was pretty much all he was doing these days. Spending more time with him, it seemed, only amplified his desire. And even though it got harder to deal with it, he thought he was doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

Well, he definitely should have known better. Three glasses in, Potter was getting emotional again. Apparently, his mother’s birthday was coming up. She would have turned 43. Potter didn’t need to tell Draco how much he missed his parents. He could hear the sorrow and the yearning in his voice, in every shuddering breath. Draco couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable or confused. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around Potter and comfort him. He settled for a slightly trembling hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, avoiding looking at Potter. He was absolutely sure his heart wouldn’t be able to take what he would find in Potter’s eyes.

“Me too,” Potter said hoarsely. And suddenly, Draco felt a warm hand on his. “What do you think our lives would be like if Voldemort had never existed?”

Draco wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a rhetorical question. Probably, since Potter continued talking without waiting for an answer.

“You know, a week before the trials, they gave me your file.”

Draco stopped breathing. He hadn’t known that. Oh Merlin! That probably meant Potter had read all the transcripts of his questionings. Had they also made notes about how Draco had broken down in tears? How he had tried to fight the Veritaserum, screaming, because he didn’t want to relive every horrible detail of the last few years while a bunch of strangers were scrutinising him?