Reconciliation

                                        

                                              
Reconciliation 
                              
Published: 6/4/2021
                              
Draco stretched out on a public bench near a statue of a muggle he didn't know. He stared up at the sky, barely seeing any stars past the dark clouds. A few raindrops fell, but nothing Draco couldn't handle. He took the puff on his cigarette, trying to will the stress out of him. It was only one in the morning. Draco had to leave work early. He was too high-strung to do any more dancing, and his boss was understanding. Draco rarely gave him problems, and there were enough strippers on the floor.
                              
Potter. Potter had not only showed up at his club, but had come in for a private dance. Fuck, it was like one of his fantasies had literally come true. Potter squirming in his seat. Potter watching his every move. Potter kissing him back. Draco took another hit of his cig. He had to calm down. He couldn't exactly wank in public and, more importantly, Potter was freaked out by it all. He didn't want to scare him off, again. He had practically run out of the room.
                              
He had to believe that Potter would show up eventually, once he calmed down and fretted about what had happened long enough. He wasn't a coward... well... at least about most things. Intimacy is always different. Regardless, Draco would wait all night for him... and come to work every night for the next week, even if he wasn't on shift. Potter would come. He knew the man that much. They could never stay from each other.
                              
He took the last drag on his cig, before he snuffed it and flicked it into a nearby bin. He put both of his hands behind his head and stared at the sky. The clouds blew past and the stars came out. Maybe the rain would hold off for the night, but it was London, after all. But his leather jacket was protected with muggle products that worked like Impervious. His flatmates had willing shown him how to acclimate to the perils living in muggle London.
                              
He had had a few thousand galleons converted to muggle pounds when he walked out on his dad, so when he first arrived in London, he was able to pay for a flat. However, upon seeing the costs of owning one himself, he took an offer of a small room in a flat with three other guys, not far from the club. All it took to explain away his ignorance of muggles was telling them that he had servants growing up and was kicked out for being gay, and they helped him figure out everything. Apparently, muggles routinely exile their children like that.
                              
One of his flatmates, Ethan, was gay, too, and took him to the club a few times. When he needed more income, he took his boss's offer for a job and the club even paid for a gym membership. He bulked up, danced well and learned how to be a muggle. His bank account was growing and he was living the life he always wanted, short of one thing... well, maybe two. He wanted his magic back... and a partner.
                              
He would be on probation for a couple more years, so it was just a matter of time for that. But finding someone to spend his nights with was hard, especially living in muggle London. It wasn't like he could tell them the truth about his past. He had had a few flings, but they were always about sex. But there was some hope inside him that maybe... maybe Potter would consider him? He had certainly responded to him when they kissed... not to mention the way he had watched him.
                              
Draco smirked at the reminder of their unexpected meeting. It felt like fate. He had always had a crush on Potter. The way he flew, his confidence... and his eyes. Those soul-searching eyes that were always watching him. Salazar, if he wasn't always worried about dying sixth year, he would have been constantly hard with the attention Potter gave him. He felt his eyes everywhere he went, which at the time, was annoying. He was supposed to kill Dumbledore.
                              
His thoughts glowered, remembering how Severus killed the old headmaster right in front of him. Dumbledore had tried to help him, even after knowing what he had done. Potter had spoken at his trial... that he was there, too. Testified that he lowered his wand. Draco didn't know what he would have done if the Death Eaters hadn't come. He liked to think that he would have taken the offer of sanctuary, but there was really no way to know.