A beat. Both of them tentative, weighing this decision, feeling out their changed dynamic.
“I’d like that,” Draco says. Then, a confession for a confession: “I don’t often go to the cafes or restaurants, even around here.”
An old paranoia gone rancid: skirting away from the public eye, long sleeves always covering that faded tattoo on his left forearm, the exceedingly visible mark of his shame. Random passersby probably wouldn’t actually notice; people didn’t pay half so much attention to Draco Malfoy as he thought they did, but he still felt uneasy in his skin, watched, judged. And he was a shit cook, so he tended to order in, or go to expensive restaurants with private rooms, catering to pureblood society. He has the money for it, even after his father’s assets were frozen during the war crime tribunals.
Long story short, he doesn’t know the local cafe.
“Can’t promise I won’t steal the duvet,” he was selfish with it, an only child and perpetual bachelor syndrome, “but you can stay over if you like. It’ll mean less coordination in the morning.”
no subject
“I’d like that,” Draco says. Then, a confession for a confession: “I don’t often go to the cafes or restaurants, even around here.”
An old paranoia gone rancid: skirting away from the public eye, long sleeves always covering that faded tattoo on his left forearm, the exceedingly visible mark of his shame. Random passersby probably wouldn’t actually notice; people didn’t pay half so much attention to Draco Malfoy as he thought they did, but he still felt uneasy in his skin, watched, judged. And he was a shit cook, so he tended to order in, or go to expensive restaurants with private rooms, catering to pureblood society. He has the money for it, even after his father’s assets were frozen during the war crime tribunals.
Long story short, he doesn’t know the local cafe.
“Can’t promise I won’t steal the duvet,” he was selfish with it, an only child and perpetual bachelor syndrome, “but you can stay over if you like. It’ll mean less coordination in the morning.”