分卷阅读9（1 / 2）

Potter blinked, letting go of Draco’s shoulder imdiately. But he didn’t remove his arm from the back of his chair. Draco wanted to shove it away, but refrained. He reminded himself not to give Potter so much power over him. But, Merlin, if a simple touch on the shoulder had that effect on him, what would happen if—No! Not now. Wait, no, not ever! He would never think about that.

As Potter reached for his drink, his arm was suddenly pressed against Draco’s back, making him jump yet again. Potter obviously chose to ignore it as he took a swig and, irritatingly, stayed in that position. Draco was this close to stomping on the prat’s foot, only distracted by the tingling that trickled down his spine. His heart was racing as if he had just been running from a hippogriff, his head spinning from the alcohol.

When Blaise started laughing at sothing Potter had just said, and nudged him, Draco finally had enough. He started to get up to go to the loo again, but a hand on his thigh startled him into plopping down. He looked at the little hand, the dark blue, glittery nails and pale skin, before his eyes snapped up to Luna’s face.

“Blaise,” she said, “maybe you and I should switch places. I don’t think Draco is too fond of you flirting with Harry.”

Draco froze, every muscle in his body clenching. He stared at Luna, incredulously, feeling like he had just been punched in the face. His cheeks had never felt so hot.

“Is that so?” Blaise said, evidently amused. “Well, we better keep our little dragon from spitting fire. We wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt, now would we?”

Draco heard Blaise pushing back his chair as he watched Luna rise from hers and step around him. When Blaise sat down next to him, he patted Draco’s knee with a toothy grin.

“There you go, Draco,” he said. “You can relax now.”

Oh, if only looks could kill. Unfortunately, Blaise seed nowhere near threatened and simply sniggered while Draco glowered at him. He wanted to turn away from the bastard, but that would an he would have to look at Potter, which really wasn’t an appealing alternative. At all. Fuck everything! What in Salazar’s na was he supposed to do now?

Potter shifted beside him, rubbing his arm against Draco’s back in the process. Oh, for the love of—

“Is that true?” Potter whispered, his hot breath tickling Draco’s ear. “Do you…” He let the rest of the sentence dangling between them, feeding the blazing fire in the pit of Draco’s stomach.

“What!” Draco snapped, finally turning around to him. He was montarily taken aback by Potter’s expression, which was amused, but he also looked…curious? “You’re so full of yourself.”

“What? I didn’t—Luna was the one who said—I—”

“Merlin, Potter, don’t strain yourself. Your head is going to explode.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as Potter regarded him with a strange expression. He leaned back in his seat and started drumming his fingers on Draco’s chair; it sent waves of shock through his body. It was almost too much, the anticipation of Potter’s fingers accidentally missing the chair and brushing against Draco instead…

“You do look tense,” Potter remarked.

“Well, you look like a chump!” Smooth, Draco, real smooth.

“Are we really back to petty insults?” Potter asked. “Man, you were a lot more panionable when we were at lunch.”

Draco stiffened, especially when he saw Blaise’s face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Ooooh, really?” he smirked. “Tell us more! You guys had lunch together? When?”