"So, Ethan just came out and punched me, slurring, "Wha'd ya do ta my mobile!" and it took a bit to explain that I programmed it to be in French. I mean... we were so tossed. I mean... we were so bad, we couldn't even stand up," Draco said, chuckling.
                              
Potter laughed, too. "I can't picture you... drunk."
                              
"Well, we go out often enough... not exactly every night, but it took a bit to learn to let loose."
                              
"You always were so... proper... you talk right, dress right... hell, walk right. Even now. Especially now," Harry said, eyeing him, again. Draco felt a satisfying thrill flutter through his body.
                              
"Well, being gay does make one's fashion sense better... usually," he said, eyeing Potter's jumper. Potter nodded in agreement. "I walk right because I enjoy what I'm doing and I'm good at it. You do too... when you're fighting... or happy. As far as talking properly, well, that was beaten into me by my father."
                              
Potter jerked and looked at him. "He... beat you?"
                              
"Yes and frequently," he said, bitterly.
                              
Potter gasped, then he reached out and touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
                              
Draco looked at him. "He was a prick... like your muggles. I'm sorry I took it out on you. It was easier to attack you than blame him."
                              
Potter's eyebrows raised for like the tenth time that night.
                              
"I just was lashing out to assert my pathetic need for some control and dominance."
                              
Potter gave him another look, and Draco had to laugh.
                              
"Just some muggle psychology books Jeffery at the club gave me. Sometimes I wish I can go back in time and beat the hell out of my obnoxious ass."
                              
Potter snickered and mumbled, "You weren't that bad. You were smart, good-looking, and you actually made things... interesting." He was blushing, again, and staring at the cobblestone.
                              
Draco smirked. Potter was as awkward as ever, but he had definitely tried to flirt with him. He really wondered how long he needed to ease Potter into it. But... maybe it was time to nudge him along or they would be there for hours.
                              
"Yes... I did, didn't I? Well, Potter, eventually, one of us has to say, "Your place or mine?""
                              
Potter flinched and took a step back. "I...."
                              
Draco laughed at his response. "Whoa, calm down, Harry."
                              
Potter winced, again. Apparently, his name was distressing him.
                              
Too different, Draco guessed. "You've been staring at me all night... H-Potter. You're interested. You can't lie to me."
                              
Harry bit his lip and his hands were trembling. "I'm sorry. You're... so... umm... nice... umm... looking."
                              
"And you're so sweet. I already told you that I don't care if you look."
                              
He looked more uncomfortable and was taking shaky breaths.
                              
Draco stepped closer. "Hey... breathe. I'm sorry if that was too forward. I've been trying to get you to relax all night by telling you all my deepest darkest secrets. But if you want to keep up the idle conversation, we can, and you can calm down, again. I can tell you all about my asshole father and you can tell me more about your friends. But we are eventually going to say that. Tonight, tomorrow or next week."
                              
Potter took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah... I do want you, Malfoy, but I-I don't want to be... a notch in your bedpost. I mean... that's what the others wanted. What I'm afraid of. I mean, Roger wanted... and... I just can't," he said to the ground, tears brimming.