Draco took a small broken tortilla chip and dragged it along the bottom of the bowl of salsa, collecting mainly watery tomato dregs and a single sad piece of onion. A few bites left of abandoned meat pasty were sitting in the centre of an empty plate. Draco contemplated for a few brief seconds if he was better than eating half-eaten leftovers, then decided it was worth it for those particular meat pasties and popped it into his mouth.

Potter was in the living area, putting away the game boxes stacked in random, haphazard piles on the floor.

Someone had brought a packet of biscuits that was now just an empty wrapper sitting on the counter. Draco licked his fingers and pressed them into crumbs, thinking they weren't very good biscuits as he sucked them from his fingers.

"I thought you were cleaning," Potter said.

Draco glanced over at Potter, who had paused his own task to throw an annoyed look at Draco.

"I am," Draco said blandly, eating another tortilla chip.

Potter sighed and went back to his task.

Draco absently vanished the biscuit packet and dropped a few dishes into the sink. The group had ordered pizza at some point during the night and, obviously unable to come to a compromise on toppings, had just ordered cheese. He ate the last piece left in the box, cheese gone rubbery as it cooled. One of Potter's heathen friends had decided not to eat the crust, a travesty if there ever was one. On the off chance that the person in question had been Weasley, Draco used a knife to carefully cut off the chewed edge before eating the rest and vanishing the box.

"Is that everything?" Potter asked, coming up behind Draco.

"What did Luna bring?" Draco asked, scanning the counter. He couldn't imagine her bringing something as plebeian as biscuits, especially cheap biscuits; that had to have been Longbottom.

Potter stared at him for a moment too long, and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I- Sorry. You calling her Luna-"

"It's her name," Draco said archly.

"Yeah, I was just starting to think you had to call people by their last names, like a compulsion or something," Potter said.

Draco huffed a laugh. "It's just a habit from school. I don't tend to do it with anyone new."

"Then I could call you Draco?" Potter asked.

Draco grimaced, "Fuck no."

"What-"

"Can't you hear the way it sounds? Awful. I won't stand for it," Draco stepped around Potter. He went over to the couch, grabbed the remote and turned on the telly as he dropped onto the cushions.

Potter opened the fridge and grabbed something before sitting next to Draco on the couch.

"Luna brought cupcakes," Potter said, holding out a small round cake, the pale yellow frosting covered in sprinkles and edible glitter. "I saved one for you."

"You're feeding me again, Potter," Draco teased, taking the cupcake before he could change his mind. "Thank you."

"I'd never have heard the end of it if there were cupcakes and you didn't get one," Potter said. "And they're really good."

Draco peeled off the paper liner and took a bite, sighing into the taste of perfectly too sweet lemon flavoured. He smiled as he realised Luna had worn lemon earrings and a yellow dress to match her lemon cupcakes.

"So..." Potter hesitated, "are we going to talk about it?"

"If you apologise, I will murder you," Draco said.

Potter quickly shook his head, "No. No apologising."

Draco let himself relax, slightly mollified by Potter's answer.

"But this changes a lot, doesn't it?" Potter said.

"Does it?" Draco said.

Potter opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked terribly confused.

Draco had to sigh. "Potter, we find one another attractive. And now you're willing to do something about that. Anything beyond that is... a choice, you make."

Potter frowned faintly.

"It doesn't have to be anything more than physical," Draco said, his voice sounding strangely distant from his own mouth. He took another bite of Luna's cupcake, the sweet now tasting almost too sweet.

Potter was staring at him, searching his expression, and Draco tried to hide the feelings of dread and anxiety and miserable skulking hope swirling through him. Then he looked down at the cupcake in his hands because he had never been good at hiding his feelings. His father would always scold him for being an open book. Draco would practise in the mirror, trying to keep his face neutral, but usually he just fell back on turning every expression into a sneer or a smirk. He couldn't seem to muster either expression now.

"I'm... not good at casual," Potter said.

Draco snorted; of course, he wasn't. Not the great Harry Potter.

"Is that what you want? Something casual?" Potter asked.

Draco hesitated, managed to force a scoff and say, "I'm not particularly good at serious," all the while avoiding Potter's gaze. He took another bite of cake even though he had lost the taste for it.

Potter was quiet, and Draco was just mustering up the nerve to glance over and see what sort of face Potter was making when Potter spoke.

"What if... we um..." Potter reached up and ruffled his hand through his hair, "I could try to be more casual, and you could try to be more serious?"

Draco made the mistake of meeting Potter's eyes and couldn't bring himself to look away. It was deeply unfair for someone to look so fucking earnest.

"Just one day at a time. Nothing written in stone, but you're right; I don't think I can leave this alone anymore. I just..." Potter reached out, his fingers shaking very faintly as they brushed Draco's cheek and traced down and around the line of his jaw. "...I can't."

Potter's thumb swiped across the corner of Draco's mouth, coming away with a faint smear of icing. Draco's lips parted, and he leaned forward, catching Potter's thumb in his mouth. He licked the frosting from Potter's skin and bit down gently, his teeth pressing into the pad before letting go and sitting back.

Potter breathed in, his eyes fixed on Draco's mouth.

The corners of Draco's mouth rose as he took one more bite of the cupcake, leaving a small piece of cake and frosting left between his fingers. He held it out as an offering, a spark of pleasure rushing down his spine as Potter opened his mouth and leaned forward to take the last bite from his fingers.

Draco waited, watching Potter's throat move as he swallowed, his hand still hovering in mid-air, the tips of two fingers white with frosting. Potter's eyes bore into him as he slowly licked his lips and then opened his mouth once more. He held perfectly still as Draco slipped his fingers inside, Potter's tongue coming up to meet them, hot against his skin.

Draco shivered, his breath catching as he drew his fingers back across Potter's lips.

"okay," Draco said softly.

Okay, what?" Potter asked.

"We can try. I suppose," Draco said.

Potter huffed a sigh, muttering, "You drive me barmy."

"Good," Draco said, smirking faintly.

"Shut up, you," Potter said.

"Make me," Draco said, leaning forward as Potter grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled Draco against him.

Potter slipped down the couch as they kissed until Draco was sprawled on top of him. Draco let himself follow Potter's lead, but the kissing softened rather than intensified into something more familiar. And eventually, Potter relaxed back on the couch with a sleepy yawn. Draco rested his head on Potter's chest, listening to the thrum of Potter's heartbeat under his ear rather than whatever was playing on the television, and quickly, without realising it, he fell asleep.

When Draco woke, the sun was already high in the sky, and the flat was empty. The couch was distinctly lacking in the Potter he remembered falling asleep on. He had the vaguest sort of memory of waking up when Potter moved but decided to ignore what was happening in order to have more sleep.

As he sat up, a blanket that had been draped over him slid onto the floor. It was no patch on the warm human he'd been laying on, but it was... thoughtful. It still seemed unreal that Draco might be a person Potter took the time to be thoughtful with; he certainly didn't deserve it.

Draco took a shower and changed into his last fresh black t-shirt and jeans.

He had just been using cleaning charms up to that point, but they tended to make clothes a bit crunchy after a while. Draco had always suspected that the spell had too much starch.

He grabbed the rest of his little pile of clothes and found the basket in Potter's room that seemed to constitute a laundry hamper. Gathering it all up, he put the load in the two-in-one wash and dry machine in Potter's kitchen. Draco had become rather fond of launderettes from his time living in shit flats. They were quiet but often had surprising little sparks of light, kids running around, a radio playing, an older person looking for someone to chat with. They were on par with his fondness for the late-night tube and libraries.

Draco set the machine to wash and was about to apparate away when he spotted a small plate of breakfast set under a stasis charm on the counter. Next to it was a note that read; called in early for work, sorry, HP. Draco smiled faintly and pocketed the note. He put the egg and bacon between the two pieces of buttered toast and quickly ate it before apparating away.

He landed behind his old building before fully realising he'd decided to go there. Draco headed into the building interior.

"What are you doing here?" Tom snapped, his plastic chair scraping against the concrete as he sat up to glare at Draco.

As the landlord, Tom had taken the first flat right next to the archway leading into the courtyard. That way, he could watch the comings and goings of the tenants like the paltry little feudal lord he thought himself to be. If he was sitting outside, that meant he was watching someone again. They might be late on rent or had a couple noisy parties, or simply have rubbed Tom the wrong way. Tom liked to have someone to hate. The way Draco figured it, it was probably the only thing that gave his life meaning.

"Visiting," Draco said.

"I kicked you out," Tom said.

"I still got friends, don't I?" Draco said.

Tom's lip curled in disgust, "Bad taste the lot of them."

Draco rolled his eyes and kept walking.

"You better not be living here," Tom warned.

"I'm not," Draco said over his shoulder.

"If I catch you-"

"All tenants are allowed to have guests over for up to a week," Draco cut him off, "It's on the lease."

"Not if they're disturbing the peace, then they got to go," Tom snapped, in a tone that plainly said, and if it's you, then you're always disturbing the peace.

Draco stopped to turn around and glare at Tom. "Don't worry. I'm not staying here," he said through his teeth and stormed off.

Draco went to Samuel's door first. It was likely that he'd be at work this time of day, but Draco could really use an antidote to Tom's abrasive fuckery.

He tapped his knuckles on the door and waited. A few moments later, Samuel opened the door. His thumb was holding his place in the book he had been reading, a ragged second-hand paperback still bearing the bright orange 50p sticker on its cover.

"You're not at work," Draco said.

"I am not," Samuel said, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "Boss finally hired someone else to take the other shift."

"That's good," Draco said.

Samuel nodded, "I miss the extra cash, but I sure as fuck don't miss those hours. That reminds me..." He patted his pocket and pulled out his wallet, counting out a small stack of random notes, "For your work. The first money you've ever earned with those lily-white hands of yours."

Draco snorted as he took the cash, folding it in half and shoving it into his pocket without bothering to count it.

"I doubt that's why you came, though. So what's up, mate?" Samuel asked as he put his wallet away.

"Just wondered if you'd like some company," Draco said.

"No," Samuel stepped back into his flat, "Give me a sec. There's this new park I found; I'll show it to you," He grabbed a discarded envelope off a table to use as a bookmark, tossing the book onto a table messy with books. He stooped to pull on his shoes, and behind him, Draco could see that the two window sills on the back wall of his flat were crowded with plants, with several in baskets hanging from the curtain rods. There were so many that it looked like a stained glass mosaic of green and white.

Draco followed Samuel's lead out of the flat, ignoring Tom and his sour expression, and down the street.

"It's good to see you, mate," Samuel said once they were well out of sight of the building.

"It hasn't been that long, hasn't it?" Draco said.

Samuel looked over at Draco from the corner of his eye.

"What?" Draco said defensively.

"Last I saw you it was just before that 'date' of yours-"

"It wasn't a date," Draco said automatically.

"-with, a, cop," Samuel said coolly.

"It was fine," Draco said.

"Would've been nice to hear that from you," Samuel said.

"I left you a note," Draco said.

Samuel was quiet for a few seconds too long before finally saying, "I lived, was more than a little lacking."

Draco winced, "Ah. I forgot that I wrote that."

"You probably thought it was funny," Samuel said.

"Well, it was," Draco said.

Samuel glanced at him.

"I thought it was," Draco said, slightly mollified.

"Naja told me that you kissed the bloke?" Samuel asked.

"I've never been down this street; I didn't think there was anything down this way," Draco said quickly, trying to change the subject.

"There isn't," Samuel said.

"You said there was a park," Draco said.

"A nothing park. You'll see," Samuel said. "So you're dating a cop?"

"It wasn't a date," Draco protested. "I'm fairly certain both parties have to think it was a date for it to be a date."

"Who thought it was a date, then?" Samuel asked.

Draco threw up his hands, gesturing helplessly at the sky before conceding, "...me."

"Mhmm," Samuel said.

"But he was the one who wanted to kiss me!" Draco said. "I said no because he was drunk-"

Samuel nodded.

"-but he was insistent, and I said I'd only do it if he kissed me back when he was sober because there wasn't a fucking chance of that, and if it did happen, then I'd know he was at least faintly serious-"

"Did he?" Samuel interrupted.

"-about- I- What?" Draco stuttered to a stop.

"Did he kiss you back?" Samuel asked.

Draco didn't know what to say. He knew Samuel didn't like Potter, none of his friends particularly liked Potter. It felt like there was no correct answer.

Samuel seemed to read the answer out of the open air, and after a pause, he said, "So he's serious then?"

Draco sighed, "Unfortunately."

Samuel laughed, looking at Draco with a question on his face.

"Potter takes everything seriously," Draco said morosely, "I've- I've never done serious. I've...." he breathed out. "I've never done anything."

Samuel gave him a look.

"A quick drunken fuck is- isn't-"

"It's not a relationship," Samuel finished for him.

"Why are we talking about this?" Draco said abruptly, "You never chat shit about relationships."

"I just don't have an interest in relationships. Personally," Samuel said. "This way."

Draco hadn't been paying attention to where they were walking. This part of the neighbourhood was a mix of old buildings, abandoned and crumbling, cheap housing units interspersed with rusting warehouses. The air smelled like kebab and curry from the small shops that survived on the margins of this marginal place.

After a crumpled bicycle frame, a sapling pushing through its centre, there was a gap in the overgrown scrub along the pavement. Samuel pushed a bit of shrub aside, stepping onto a narrow trail.

Draco followed. The first couple feet of the trail were so narrow that Draco had to turn his body sideways to try and avoid all the branches, ready to scrape his bare arms. The path widened as they walked, a tangle of brush and trees so dense that Draco only caught glimpses of the street on one side and the grey concrete wall confining the patch of scrub. And at the centre of it was a small circle of ground, all soil and the protruding ridges of roots and a single bench. The bench itself looked infinitesimally old, the metal thick and rough, the wood worn dark and polished to a shine for the years of people sitting on it.

Samuel dropped onto one side of the bench and gestured for Draco to take the other.

As he sat down, Draco could see, and more so, feel, that the bench was completely covered in carvings. There were mostly names but some words, some were cut deep, and others were just scratched into the surface, a hundred years or more of people saying here, I am here.

"But I'm interested now 'cause you're a friend," Samuel said.

Draco looked up from where he had been tracing his fingers over the carved wood.

Samuel nodded towards Draco seriously, "All the time I've known you, you never dated anyone, never been interested in anyone. You always kept it casual, and, yeah, that was like worrying in case you got hurt or picked up an STD. But this is all new, and it's... a lot."

Samuel sighed, leaning back on the bench, resting an arm over the back. "Big changes don't always work out; they're..." he searched for the right word, "heavy."

"I know you don't like Potter," Draco said.

"That's not it," Samuel said, flicking his hand dismissively, "We all have our types, right? That's what you said, so I figure this Potter must be worth it, even if he is a pig."

Draco snorted. He wasn't entirely sure about that.

"Just worried about you, like," Samuel said.

There was something so endearingly awkward about his words, like he had never said them before but was trying nonetheless.

"If this works out, I think it'll be good for you. Especially cutting back on the drinking," Samuel said. "I just- I wanted to let you know we're here if things don't. Elle and Mary, Naja too. And me."

Draco smiled, "And I appreciate it more than you know. You're the best people I've met since leaving the whole cult thing."

Samuel nodded, looking up at the dark cave of greenery surrounding them, almost blotting out the sky. He seemed a little embarrassed, and Draco could just imagine Elle laughing at the two of them for getting all worked up over the conversation.

"Elle would give us such shit right now," Draco said.

Samuel cracked a grin, "She'd say blokes are the worst at talking."

"The worst," Draco agreed. He sat back against the bench, "How'd you find this place, anyhow?"

They chatted about Samuel's wandering and how he stumbled across this place or almost didn't; it was so hidden in the shrub. Then about the books Samuel had read lately. He always had a massive stack rotating in and out of the local used bookshop. He refused to use the library because he didn't want to make their books smell like weed, but he figured any books he bought were fair game. He could read through most popular paper-backs in a day, though he said that wasn't impressive because they were made to be read through quickly.

"That way, you can buy another one," Samuel said.

The conversation came back around to Draco and, as he had no interest in further relationship talk, he told Samuel about his group meetings and the homework assignment he had yet to do even though the next meeting was fast approaching.

"Well, you haven't heard from the other bloke either, so you're on even footing," Samuel said.

"I just don't know what we could do together," Draco said.

Samuel raised an eyebrow, "Lunch?"

"I was rather hoping for something a little bit more than that," Draco said.

The eyebrow ticked a little higher, "More than sustenance?"

"Yeah," Draco sighed, "Like something meaningful or some shite. We're meant to be doing new things, exciting things, trying to- I don't know- not fall back on our old ways."

"What kind of bloke is he?" Samuel asked.

Draco had to take a moment to shift things into muggle terms that would make sense, "He's obsessed with football. Plays on a minor team?" he hazarded, "but on the bench. He was so desperate to play in a game he started using illegal enhancements."

Samuel nodded, "Crazy about footie, that isn't much different than most of the blokes I knew growing up. What else?"

"His father was also obsessed with football," Draco added.

"That's it?" Samuel asked.

Draco shrugged, "That, and for his last assignment to do something he'd never done before, he tried to go to a park but, it didn't work out because he's a big bloke and the mums were giving him dirty looks."

"Well, that's easy to fix, at least," Samuel said.

"It is?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," Samuel said, "just go at night."