The train slowed to a stop as we reached Kings Cross station.

Draco and I exchanged a tight, uneasy look.

Although we had remained in the compartment together for the rest of the journey, playing game after game, hour after hour; there was no denying that there was something new in the atmosphere between us that certainly hadn't been there before I rodeoed his cock.

All I kept thinking, as we sat alone in that locked compartment, was that we could be fucking in a matter of seconds if I wanted. All I would have to do was lean across the seat and close the gap. There was no doubt in my mind he would eagerly respond like he did the other night.

Throughout the journey, my eyes constantly lingered upon his lips, remembering them on mine; kissing me hungrily, groaning with longing into my mouth.

I would watch his fingers as they deftly dealt the cards and remember how they had touched me, expertly bringing me to the peak of pleasure.

And every now and then, I would allow myself a stolen glance down at his crotch and recall how glorious he had felt inside of me and how our sweaty bodies had moved together.

It made concentrating on the card game very difficult indeed.

If Draco noticed any of this, he didn't say. But then again, I didn't say anything when I noticed the way his eyes, too, lingered upon me; and the way his tongue would sweep across his upper lip whenever he glanced down the length of my body.

The night we fucked was the elephant in the room. And neither of us were willing to bring it up through fear of shattering our much cherished friendship.

"Well, this is it," Draco sighed heavily; seemingly reluctant to get to his feet. "I suppose we better go and find our trunks before the train takes us back."

I was half tempted to suggest we just stay put and ride the train together for the rest of our lives.

But instead we found ourselves pushing up through the corridor, staying together as we collected our luggage, relief flooding me upon discovering that Pansy had gone from the compartment and had not waited fretfully for me to get back from my seven hour shit.

Stepping out onto the platform, we turned to one another, and an awkwardness once again descended upon us.

"Blaire," Draco began, looking anguished, "about this summer-"

"It's okay," I said at once, knowing exactly what he was going to say, "you don't need to explain. It's not exactly practical me staying at yours what with everything going on."

"I just don't know what it's going to be like at home," he said apologetically. "Mother sounded extremely anxious in her letter, and I need to step up now that my father isn't there."

I nodded, letting him know I understood. I was disappointed - of course I was - but a part of me was relieved too. It had been tough-going in that compartment, and I didn't know how I would be able survive a whole two weeks of that kind of tension.

"You will be okay, won't you?" I asked, suddenly feeling anxious for him.

He swallowed, nodding his head. Something flickered in his eyes and I couldn't quite work out what is was. Apprehension? Fear?

I couldn't help it; I instinctively reached out and took his hand in mine, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. I was desperate for him to know I cared so much, and this was the only way I could think to show how.

He looked surprised at first; startled by my gesture. But then all of a sudden his face softened, and he pulled me to him, his arms wrapping around my middle as he held me close. I found myself instantly sighing into him as the familiar scent of his cologne invaded my nostrils and the strong steady beat of his heart could be felt beneath his chest.

This felt strangely intimate. We didn't hug. It wasn't what we did.

But then again, we didn't rip each other's clothes off and orgasm all over one another; so I guess it was the week of firsts.

I looked up at him; our faces so close that I could feel his warm peppermint breath tickle my skin. I had the strongest desire to reach up on tiptoes and press my lips against his. But I resisted, realising that we were stood in the middle of a bustling platform.

"I'm so fucking sorry for the other night," Draco said vehemently as ardent grey eyes burned into mine. "I should have asked you to stay."

I felt utterly thrown; not expecting this at all. We'd just spent the last seven hours alone together and we hadn't even come close to bringing that night up.

Yet now Draco was choosing to do so amidst a crowded platform at the moment we were about to part for two months of summer.

"Drac," I breathed, my heart racing wildly beneath my rapidly heaving chest, suddenly clinging onto him tighter, not wanting to let him go. "I-"

"Blaire, darling! There you are!"

All of a sudden, Draco's arms were falling away from me and an odd empty feeling came over me as he took a hurried step back; his eyes glancing guiltily at the speaker over my shoulder.

I turned immediately to see my step father approach; a tall greying man in his sixties, dressed in his usual immaculate ivory coloured suit.

"Bernard," I smiled warmly, despite my still racing heart. I allowed him to lean down to kiss me on my cheek, his beard rough and prickly against my skin.

He straightened up, his kind brown eyes immediately narrowing as he scrutinised Draco behind me.

"Ah, this must be young Mr Malfoy," Bernard said, his voice authoritative but not unkind. "My step daughter speaks most highly of you."

Draco gave a curt, apprehensive nod; his eyes darting nervously back to me. I smiled encouragingly at him to let him know it was okay; that Bernard would never judge him for his father.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Zabini." Draco said; earning a loud hearty chortle from Bernard.

"Dear Merlin, I'm not Zabini!" My step father boomed, jovially shaking Draco's hand. "That's our Blaire's wonderfully exotic name. I'm afraid I'm just a plain old unremarkable Smith. But please, do call me Bernard."

"Bernard," Draco corrected himself as their hands broke away. "If you'll excuse me, I best go and locate my mother before she starts to fret."

"Go ahead, dear boy; go ahead." Bernard beamed brightly, removing a handkerchief to pat at his sweltering cherry red face. "I wouldn't dare dream of coming between a boy and his mother."

Draco turned to me, his eyes meeting mine meaningfully. "I'll write, okay?"

I nodded, my lips tugging into a small smile as he turned away and disappeared into the crowds; my heart feeling inexplicably sad.

"What a nice young lad," Bernard said with an impressive tone. "You so rarely meet youth today with such impeccable manners. Say what you will about Lucius, but clearly he has brought his son up correctly. Although... given the boy's fondness of his mother, I'm guessing she's the one we have to thank for that."

"Speaking of mothers," I said, turning back to my step father to glance past his shoulder, "where's mine?"

It was most unusual to have Bernard come and pick me up. Kind and lovely as he was, I never really saw him much. As the owner of a multimillion Galleon cauldron company, he was normally a very busy man and always tied up in very important meetings or striking up life changing deals.

Bernard suddenly looked uneasy; nervously straightening his tie. "You see, that's the thing, she's uh... gone away."

"Gone away?" I frowned. "Gone away where?"

Bernard sighed heavily. "She said, and I quote, this depressive country is getting to her so she's gone on to sunnier climates until the place cheers up a bit."

"Cheers up a bit?! We're at war!" I spluttered incredulously. Although why I was so surprised that my mother just abandoned me in a war torn country to save herself, I didn't know.

"I know, sweetheart," Bernard said, his face full of pity, "I did try and explain that to her, but you know your mother. So I'm afraid it's just you and me kiddo. Although, mostly just you," he added guilty. "I managed to get the afternoon off to pick you up, but it's a busy time for Smith's Cauldrons and I'm going to have to dash back to the office as soon as we get you home."

A nasty lump formed in my throat which stayed with me for the rest of the journey home, and which still refused to leave when I roamed the large empty echoing rooms of our far too big a house.

But I didn't cry; I refused to cry.

Because it was never easy to admit that you had never felt so abandoned and alone.

*****