“Happy birthday, Ron!”
“Thanks, Luna. Oh, what’s this?”
“Your present, of course,” Luna beamed. Weasley took it with a bright grin, which quickly faded when he realised whatever was in that package was moving.
“Luna,” he said, sounding alarmed. “What’s in there?”
“It’s a surprise, obviously. Be sure to tell me when you open it. I want to see your face.”
Draco wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Weasley’s worried expression or to be worried himself. Luna was such a wildcard.
He cleared his throat and extended his arm. “Happy birthday, Weasley.”
For a second, Draco thought Weasley would decline his hand. How ironic would that be? But he didn’t, and he didn’t squeeze as hard as Draco would have expected. Without further explanation, Draco handed him the bottle of firewhiskey under his arm. Some might have said it was a boring gift, but these people obviously had no taste. Which was why Draco was far more concerned about the fact that this was probably throwing pearls before swine.
“Oh wow, that’s some premium stuff! Thanks, err, Malfoy.” Huh. He almost sounded genuine. Still, it didn’t make Draco less uncomfortable to be here. Yes, he could have declined Luna’s offer to accompany her to the party, but…well. As always, it was all Potter’s fault.
Draco hadn’t seen him since that dreadful dinner and neither of them had made contact again. Even though Draco wanted to explain his…situation, he had a feeling it would only make things worse. Coming here probably wasn’t the smartest move, given these circumstances, but it was also the perfect opportunity to see Potter again without having to initiate it. And even though Draco would rather have been dead than admit it out loud, he missed seeing the stupid prat.
As soon as he and Luna stepped into the living room, Draco scanned the crowd. There were a few people he didn’t recognise. Probably people Weasley worked with. Great, just what Draco needed, a bunch of drunk Aurors! Well, they didn’t look that professional now, all dressed very casually and surrounded by colourful balloons that were floating around the room.
He spotted Granger, who was talking to some people from school; Thomas and Finnigan, who were apparently joined at the hip these days, Longbottom, a few other Gryffindors whose names had escaped Draco, and…no Potter. Ugh.
“So, should we get a—” Draco looked around when he realised he was talking to nobody. Where was Luna? Ah, there she was, talking to one of the Weasley twins. Draco’s heart sank a little when he realised he had forgotten his name again, identifying him instead as ‘the one who survived’. Draco couldn’t have cared less about his name before, but now…Maybe it was time to make some real effort.
Bracing himself for the uncomfortable conversation he was undoubtedly about to have, he walked over to them, his joints becoming more stiff with every step.
“Hey, Draco,” Luna beamed. “You remember George, right?” Thank heavens for this girl!
“Hey…Draco?” It almost sounded like a question, as though George was trying to navigate the unfamiliarity of his first name.
“George,” Draco said with a small nod. Yeah, this was really weird.
“You guys are friends?” George asked, his voice dripping with scepticism.
“Oh, yes,” Luna smiled. “Draco can be really nice. Although I think he prefers to let people think he isn’t. Not like in the past, though. He wasn’t nice when he was a Death Eater. But I think he’s trying to make up for it.”
As always, Draco’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You really just say what comes to mind, don’t you?”
Luna cocked her head. “Don’t you? Oh, no wonder you’re scowling all the time if you keep all of your thoughts to yourself!”
“I guess it hurts people sometimes, hearing other people’s unfiltered thoughts,” George said. It didn’t escape Draco’s notice that he was giving him a speculative glance.
“But everything I just said is true,” Luna said.
“Is it?” George asked in an unconvinced tone. Draco bit his tongue, but before he could stop himself, the words spilled out of his mouth.
“Listen, I know it probably means nothing to you, but I am really sorry. I’m sorry for the role I played in the war and…for what happened to your brother.” Draco stared at the floor, unable to look George in the eyes.
“You already said that,” George said, prompting Draco’s eyes to involuntarily snap up to his. “In your letter. I haven’t forgotten.”
“Oh, you got one, too?” Luna asked without sounding surprised. Instead, she sounded happy.
“Yeah,” George said slowly before he turned his attention back to Draco. “It was a good gesture, you know, that you wrote to each of us individually, instead of sending one letter to the whole family. I appreciate you apologising in person, but I don’t put much value to words.”
“Oh, but Draco is—”
“Luna,” Draco interrupted her warningly.
George’s eyes flickered questioningly between the two of them. Luna just shrugged.
“Well, as much as I prefer action to words, Harry says you’re different now, too, so…” He raised his butterbeer to Draco and took a swig. “I guess I’ll keep an open mind.”
“Right,” Draco said with the ghost of a smile. Honestly, he had expected worse. So much worse. Also, Potter was talking about him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It made his belly all fluttery and warm. Ugh.
“You want something to drink?” he asked, turning to Luna.
“Oh, yes, a butterbeer, please.”
Draco nodded, making his way to the kitchen. He was pretty sure George and Luna started talking about him the second he was gone, but he didn’t mind. George had every right to be sceptical. Honestly, Draco had no idea why Luna liked him. Most days, Draco didn’t like himself, so how could anybody else?
He let out a sigh in relief when he found the kitchen was empty. Well, except for more balloons. How many were there? He helped himself to a glass of red wine which, shockingly, tasted far better than he would have thought, given this was Weasley’s party.
“Hey, where’d you get that glass?”
Draco turned around, startled, and found a young man with sandy brown hair smiling at him.
“Right here,” he said, handing him one.
“Thanks,” he said, reaching for the firewhiskey. “I’m Henry by the way.”
“Draco.”
“Oh, you’re Draco Malfoy, aren’t you?” Henry said, stretching out his hand. Draco shook it warily. When people recognised him by his name, they usually started talking about the past. And even though this Henry guy seemed friendly enough, Draco was in no mood to talk about his days as a Death Eater with a stranger.
“That’s me,” he said in a clipped tone, sipping at his wine.
“Harry told me so much about—”
“Ah, you met Henry.”
Draco almost choked. His eyes widened as he took in the bright grin on Potter’s face as he entered the kitchen. It was such a shocking sight; not only because Draco hadn’t expected to see Potter grinning at him after what had happened between them, but…because…
Holy fucking Mother of Merlin!
Bloody Potter had a bloody beard now. And not just a little stubble from being too lazy to shave for a few days, a full-on, raven-black beard. Shit. Shit! It made him look absolutely delectable. And as if to mock Draco, the prat had chosen to dress nicely for a change.
As Draco eyed the collar of the blue dress shirt and the tie, he wondered if Potter was indeed wearing this to irritate him. Surely, Luna had told him she would be bringing Draco. That would also explain why he didn’t look surprised at all to find him in Weasley’s kitchen. Besides, he knew Potter. This wasn’t an outfit he’d normally choose for himself. The grey jumper he was wearing on top looked incredibly soft; was that cashmere? Potter didn’t wear cashmere!
