Draco slid his hand along the edge of the mattress and the warm, soft flannel sheets. He opened one eye, letting it slowly focus on the dark blue bedsheets and breathed in the smell of someone else's laundry soap and sweat.

He moved slowly, slipping out of bed, making as little sound as possible as he padded on bare feet to collect his clothes from where they had fallen the night before. Draco pulled his wand out of the back pocket and carefully cast a series of charms to keep the room cool, quiet, and comfortable.

A bathroom was attached to the bedroom; Draco cast a silencing charm over himself and the bathroom door as he closed it behind himself. He was confronted with his own reflection in the mirror, his skin looking thin and shadows ringing under his eyes.

Draco turned his chin, "So he did cut my hair after all."

His silvery blond hair now had an off-centre part and was just long enough to reach just above his chin, rising slightly in a line as sharp as a ruler past his ear. His nape was shaved, fading into the slightly longer hair further up. It was familiar and but looked vaguely androgynous on his face in an underfed model sort of way.

Draco flipped open the mirror and pushed it open until it only reflected the wall. He took two ibuprofen to try and slow the pounding in his head before stepping into the shower. He got the water warm before turning on the spray and slowly increased to heat until he could barely stand it. He popped the shampoo bottle open and breathed in the rich cedary scent.

Draco washed his hair slowly and combed the conditioner through the delicate strands until they were all smooth and clean. He let the water run over his head and down his face, washing off him and down into the drain until he forced himself to move.

He dried himself off with a charm and used the Geminio charm to duplicate the toothbrush sitting in a cup beside the sink. He looked through the medicine cabinet as he mindlessly brushed his teeth and found a shot glass on one shelf with a mix of stud earrings inside.

Draco let the toothbrush hang from his mouth as he dumped the earrings into his hand and pushed them around on his palm. There was a single stud that looked like a square black gemstone. He turned it under the vanity lights, seeing shafts of blue when the light caught it just right. Draco duplicated it twice, returned the other earrings to their glass in the cabinet, and pushed the blue gem earrings into his earlobes. He didn't remember when he got them pierced. It had been months since he'd worn any earrings, so he had to force them through the half-closed holes, leaving his earlobes red and aching.

Draco finished brushing his teeth, vanished the brush, cleaned the sink, put everything back as it was and cast drying charms around the room so it looked just like when he had walked in. He eased the door open and, finding the bed's occupant was still sound asleep, walked over to the dresser, wrapping wordless silencing charms around himself and everything he touched.

He picked out some clothes from the dresser, duplicating them and leaving the originals behind. Copies of things only lasted a few weeks before the magic dispelled, but he rarely wore anything that long. Draco put on the new outfit, tight, dark washed jeans and a white t-shirt made of a light, silky material that felt good against his skin. He tucked his wallet into his pocket and vanished his old outfit.

Draco looked across the room at the figure still sleeping soundly in the bed. He could see sandy light brown hair spread across the pillow and the sharp line of a nose, neither of which he recognised. He thought he might remember the man's smile and the ghost of his touch.

He slipped out of the bedroom and eased the door shut behind him, soundlessly moving around the small apartment. He touched the covers of fashion and hairstyle magazines, let his hand slide over an old knitted blanket thrown over the back of a second-hand couch. An unread stack of junk mail slid off the coffee table onto the floor, addressed to Elliot Hugh.

Draco formed the name silently in his mouth, "Elliot."

The kitchen was small but fairly tidy aside from the stack of plates in the sink. Draco quietly made himself a mug of tea and toast smeared with butter and jam, eating them slowly as he leaned back against the counter. The refrigerator was covered in photos and large, tacky magnets. A heavy black magnet at the top corner held a thin stack of business cards in place. Draco wondered if they were the cards for clients, for salons Elliot worked at or wanted to, or from friends, from other hairdressers.

He cast a cleaning charm on the empty mug and set it back on the shelf with a soft clink, brushing the crumbs from his hands. Looking around one last time, Draco headed to the door, sliding the deadbolt open and placing hand on the doorknob.

"You don't have to leave yet. Do you want to go out sometime? Get some coffee? I'd like to see you again..."

Draco looked over his shoulder at the empty, dawn-lit room. He shook the stupid thought from his head and stepped outside, charming the deadbolt locked again behind him, so it was almost like he had never been there at all.

The sun peeking around the buildings burned into Draco's eyes, and he held up a hand to block the glare. He walked until he found a twenty-four-hour convince store and bought a bottle of coke with a handful of coins he managed to dig out of his wallet. He didn't have enough money left to even take the train.

Draco looked at the plastic bottle in his hand with a frown. Apparition and carbonation did not mix, and Draco didn't fancy his soda fizzing over when he landed. Of course, that wasn't the only thing he didn't want to deal with.

He walked until he found a little park and sat on a bench. He sipped the soda under the shade of the trees, enjoying the cool morning air.

When a third of the bottle was empty, he took out his wallet and opened the bifold. It had two sections, one he kept the paper money in and the other he had charmed into a bag of holding. It wasn't very deep, but it let him store a few things. Draco fished out a heavy silver flask and added whiskey to the bottle of coke.

An early morning jogger narrowed his eyes at Draco as he passed. Draco ignored him, waiting until he was out of sight to put the flask back into his wallet. 

Draco wasn't sure if he meant to drink the whole bottle or if he simply wasn't paying attention until he put the bottle to his lips and found it empty.

Draco sighed and stood up, swaying a little on his feet. He walked down the path until he found a public bathroom. Behind the closed door, he vanished the empty bottle and, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration, apparated.

He landed badly on the cobbles of Diagon Alley and stumbled into someone.

"Oh, take care!" an old witch said, then narrowed her eyes as she recognised him, took a step back, brushing her robes off where he had touched her. "Excuse me," she said coldly and quickly walked away.

Draco didn't bother apologising; no one wanted to hear it. He was grateful that he had to keep his eyes on his feet while he walked. Staying steady on his feet took almost all his concentration, but part of his mind still noticed when people moved out the way to avoid him and the comments muttered under their breath. The worst of them were the ones that didn't try to avoid him, who walked toward him looking to bump into him, to confront him, their wand already clutched in knuckle-white fists. Draco did his best to get out of their way, running his shoulder into the wall if he had to.

He was rushed and breathless when he stepped into Gringott's and took a few seconds to lean against a cold stone pillar to catch his breath. No one would try anything in the bank; the goblins wouldn't allow it.

Draco stepped up to an open counter.

"What'd ya want?" The goblin demanded.

Draco fished his vault key out of his wallet and set it on the counter, "I want to withdraw forty galleons and have it converted to muggle currency."

The goblin wrinkled their nose at him, "Extra charge for withdrawal service."

"I know," Draco said flatly.

"Extra charge for currency exchange."

"I know," Draco said impatiently. "Just get on with it."

The goblin sniffed and grabbed the key off the counter, "Fine. Wait here."

Draco nodded. Once the goblin was out of sight, he crossed his arms on the counter and rested his cheek on them.

He was eight years old the first time he saw the family vaults. He remembered being terrified from the cart and trying not to cry because his father would narrow his eyes at him whenever he did; Draco hated that look; it made him feel like he had a stone in the bottom of his stomach. It wasn't until he was much older that he realised that look was disappointment.

The Malfoy family vault had been in one of the deepest and oldest vaults. Gold galleons had been stacked to the ceiling in towering piles. Draco remembered the feeling of his father gripping the back of his neck with firm cold fingers and talking about legacy and tradition and the future. Draco couldn't remember the exact words, but he had been filled with a feeling that no one could ever touch their family. Draco never questioned his place in that world. It was where he was born and where he belonged.

"Here," the goblin said, slapping a stack of notes and a few coins onto the counter, "Now, off." he shooed at Draco to move.

Draco pushed himself up and put the money into his wallet, where it folded as flat as a slip of paper, "My vault key."

The goblin sniffed imperiously at him before putting the small silver key down and sliding it across the smooth wooden surface with one finger to the other side of the counter.

Draco picked up the key and very carefully tucked it into the other side of his wallet before putting the slim leather fold into his back pocket.

"Your receipt," The goblin said, putting a yellow rectangle of paper on the counter.

"Thanks," Draco said flatly, crumpling the paper into a tight ball in his fist and vanishing it on his way out the door.

He headed straight for the alley entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, head down, giving everyone he could a large berth. Draco leaned against the brick wall, nearly falling through as the bricks folded back, and hurried towards the closest tube station. He pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, feeling like he couldn't quite catch his breath.

"Woah, take it easy, mate."

Draco lurched back from the person he had run into.

"Watch where you're goin'," the bloke said before turning and heading into a pub.

The pavement sign outside the door declared it 'London's earliest happy hour' with pints starting at a pound seventy and a short list of other specials.

Draco walked into the pub and headed straight for the bar.

"Do you want this?"

Draco tilted his head to the side as a young woman pushed a glass of dark liquid in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, "Some bloke keeps buying me drinks, trying to get me wasted."

"Not interested?" Draco asked.

"In getting wasted? I was. But now? Not so much," She said.

"What are my chances of being roofied?" Draco asked, picking up the glass and taking a sip of a far too strong long-island iced tea.

"Low. I watched the bartender make it and tell me it was compliments of-" she waved her hand, "whoever."

"You don't even know?" Draco asked.

"And I don't care," she said, "I came to have a night out with my friends, not some desperate bloke."

"And your friends are?" Draco asked.

"Outside," she said, "They're having a cigarette, and I have asthma."

"So you're chatting up your friendly local queer to keep the blokes off," Draco said.

She grinned, "Not so local. I come here all the time, and this is the first time I've seen you."

"True," Draco said. "I'm Draco, by the way."

"Draco?" She laughed, "Is your mum one of those horoscope people?"

"Being named after stars and constellations is an old family tradition," Draco said.

"You poor thing," She giggled. "I'm Laura."

Laura held out her hand, and they briefly shook hands.

"A pleasure to meet you," Draco drawled.

Laura laughed.

Draco smirked crookedly, taking a long drink of the long-island iced-tea, which made him cough.

"Those are really strong," Laura said.

"I noticed," Draco said faintly and coughed again.

Laura sighed and leaned against the bar counter, "I don't suppose you're bi?"

"I thought you weren't looking for a bloke," Draco said.

Laura shrugged, "You seem nice."

"I 'seem nice?' Is that all it takes?" Draco said.

Laura snorted, "Yeah. Pretty much. You're attractive as well, but you probably already know that."

"Well..." Draco said absently, "I don't mind getting pegged on occasion."

Laura's mouth fell open, and she laughed in surprise. "Oh, I mean-" she laughed again, her cheeks taking on a flush. "I've never really- I mean... god, that's really hot. I've always wanted to try something like that..." Laura shook her head, "But I don't have a strap."

"That's a shame," Draco said.

Laura bit her bottom lip, looking Draco over with far more interest than before, "...But my roommate does. And she's not home."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Laura giggled, "I have condoms. And I'll clean it really well; she'll never have to know I borrowed it."

"When does your roommate come back?" Draco asked.

"You're not going to murder me in my sleep, are you?" Laura asked.

"No," Draco shook his head, "I'd just rather leave before she gets back."

"Yeah, she's gone for the weekend," Laura said, "You should meet my friends. You should drink with us." She bit her lip again, "And then we'll go have some fun."

"Sure," Draco said. He stood up and finished off the drink with one large swallow, grimacing at the burn.

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand wrap around his arm, the glass falling to the ground and shattering, "Fuck."

He looked up at the asshole who had grabbed him, expecting the bloke that had been hitting on Laura, but seeing black hair and broad shoulders, piercing green eyes behind glasses-

Draco forgot how to breathe, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight on end.

"Malfoy-"

Draco wrenched his arm free from Potter's grip and shoved through the crowd with frantic desperation to reach the door. He slammed outside, past the group smoking near the entrance, stumbling over his feet as the alcohol in his blood warred with his panic.

He tried to pull his wand out of his pocket, one hand holding himself up against the wall outside as he walked toward the pub's narrow alleyway. His wand finally pulled free from the tight jeans and Draco spun around at the sound of footsteps rushing up to him. Potter grabbed his wrist, his grip as tight as a steel band. It was all Draco could do not to lose his grip on his wand.

"What are you thinking? This is a muggle neighbourhood!" Potter demanded.

Draco tried to pull away, his back scraping against stone, "Let me go." When Potter didn't relent, he grabbed at Potter's fingers and tried to pry them loose.

"No one has seen you around since the trials; what are you doing here?" Potter demanded.

"Drinking. It's a pub, you ignoramus," Draco spat, "Let me go, or I'll start yelling."

"What?"

"You can't hurt me with other people watching," Draco said, glancing at the group of smokers who were watching them with growing apprehension.

Potter frowned, looking genuinely confused, "I'm not going to hurt you. You're the one who drew his wand."

Draco had to laugh. Did he really think Draco was going to attack him?

"I haven't done anything. Let me go," Draco said.

"Not until you've answered some questions," Potter said.

Draco's legs were shaking, and he indulged in their desire to give out, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground.

Potter didn't let go, just held Draco's hand up in the air as he stared down at him, "Are you ill?"

"Too much to drink," Draco said faintly. He dropped his head back against the bricks, but it didn't slow the world spinning.

He looked Potter over. Potter was still Potter, his black hair wild, his eyes a little too intense. But some things had changed. He had finally grown into his body, for one. He was no longer all knees and elbows, gangling everywhere he went. He had muscles and shoulders that strained against the faded t-shirt he was wearing. He had grown a few inches as well, though Draco was still slightly taller than him.

Potter's mouth was moving.

"What?" Draco said.

Potter's brow furrowed. His annoyed face was still the same. "What happened to that muggle you were with last night?"

Draco blinked, "You were at that bar? I thought I was seeing things."

"What happened-"

"Why were you in Soho?" Draco asked.

Potter's mouth tightened slightly, "I saw you at the station and followed you to the bar."

Draco snorted.

"What happened to that muggle you left with last night?" Potter asked.

Draco had to laugh, "Are you serious?"

"Answer the question, Malfoy," Potter said sternly.

"We fucked, Potter," Draco said, "I went back to his place, and we fucked."

Potter blinked, his breathing hitching slightly in his chest. He tightened his grip painfully on Draco's wrist, "And after that?"

Draco shook his head, "After? I fell asleep. I woke up, took a shower, had some tea and toast and left. Do you want to know how I take my tea next? What kind of jam I put on my toast?"

"You aren't gay. In school, you dated Pansy Parkinson," Potter said.

"One, I consider myself pansexual with a preference for getting fucked," Draco said mildly, "Two, Pansy always hoped our parents might arrange a marriage between us, but we never actually dated."

Potter narrowed his eyes.

"I don't fucking care if you don't believe me, Potter. It's my life, not yours. Now let me go you, fucking cunt," Draco said, straining to pull his arm away from Potter.

"Hey... should I call someone?" Laura had followed them and was leaning against the door like a shield as she looked from Potter down to Draco.

"You're that girl he was talking to at the bar," Potter said.

"I haven't been a girl since I was thirteen, thanks very much," Laura said, wary and ready to slam the door shut if Potter made any sudden moves.

Potter sighed, "Everything is fine. This is between us."

Laura ignored Potter and spoke to Draco, "We can call the cops. We don't have to tell them you're gay or anything; I know they can be dicks about that sort of thing."

"We're just talking," Potter said.

"Doesn't look that way to me," Laura said.

Potter reluctantly let go of Draco's wrist.

"We heard everything," one of the girls by the door said. "Saw everything too." Her friends around her nodded.

Potter took a step back, looking entirely out of his element.

Draco had to wonder how long it had been since Potter been somewhere where they hadn't automatically assumed he was in the right, the hero, the golden boy.

Laura and her friends helped Draco to his feet and quickly pulled him back into the pub, throwing dirty looks back at Potter.

"Let's get something to drink-"

"Oh my god, that guy was such a creep-"

"First round is on me-"

Draco followed them, glancing back over his shoulder at Potter as the door swung shut.