Addicted

Chapter Two: A suggestion



Draco could almost feel his resolve cracking. He had to take a deep breath before he was able to respond.



“I think you've had too much to drink already Nott.” Apparently Draco was right, he could sense that Nott was going to make an inconvenient remark before he'd even opened his mouth. Draco weighed his options and chose to walk through the still open door into the rain. Pansy would know where he had gone. Unfortunately, the slightly drunken Theodore was not deterred by the atmosphere and followed Draco out.



“Why won't you call me by my name?” Draco tried his hardest to remain reasonable.



“Habit, I suppose, Theodore.” He tried to smile sincerely. “Was that better?”



“No. Draco, you used to call me Theo. Why do you have to call me Theodore or Nott now?”



Draco had no answer for this, or at least he had no answer that he felt comfortable with sharing. Nott opened his mouth again, obviously not quite finished. Draco wasn't sure if that was good or bad.



“Draco, just because we're not...what we used to be. Just because we can't fuck now. Does that mean we have to be formal with one another?”



“Theodore. You're drunk. If you were sober you'd never bring this up. I'm going to apparate home now. I think you should go to sleep.” Draco suited action to word and with a small, discreet pop he appeared back in his own bedroom. He felt more shaken than he would be willing to admit to anyone. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight without something to settle him down. He moved to his private study where he kept a small supply drink cabinet, stocked with his favourite alcohols. He took a small glass of port and was lifting it to his lips when he heard a loud crack from the bedroom.



“Pansy?” He tipped the dark liquid down his throat, savouring the warmth it brought to him. “Are you ready for bed, darling?”



“No.” The voice that answered was deep and masculine, causing Draco to gag on the port he had just swallowed. He knew it to be Theodore.



“Theodore, please. Go home.”



“Not until we've sorted this out.” Theodore had entered the room, and was walking towards Draco. “Draco, please, why can't we be friends?” Draco did not say anything, but it didn't seem as if Theodore expected him to. “Was it just fucking, really? Weren't we friends first?” Theodore had his face close to Draco's and was staring into his eyes as if he were looking for something. Draco thought he could see desperation on Theodore's face, but refused to let himself think about it.



“Yes, Theodore. It was just fucking and once we'd done that there was no way we could ever be friends.”







There was silence after that announcement. Draco couldn't bear to look into Theodore's eyes. He waited, eyes focused on the ceiling, while Theo went through shock and despair before he finally broke through into anger.



“You're just ashamed. You let me fuck you and then I said I wanted to stop. You've never gotten over that, have you? Every time you see me you just remember how good it felt to be fucked and you don't know how to cope with it.” Draco knew that if he let Theodore continue anger would swell inside him and then everything would go back to normal. He couldn't wait that long and he knew it. He had to fake anger, to make it seem like he had lost control as much as Theodore.



“Oh and you did? I don't think so. You just loved being fucked and refused to share that feeling with Pansy. You were just too jealous. It was you that ruined any chance of friendship, Theodore.” Draco knew that Nott had fallen for it, that their argument from here on would be normal, and would later be explained away with the excuse of having drunk too much. Just as long as they both stayed angry.



“You think I liked being fucked more than you did, Malfoy. Not a chance. If I offered to fuck you right here and right now, you'd give in just like a girl.”



“Never. You would though, Nott. All I would need to do would be to push you into that wall, crush my body to yours. You'd beg for it.” Draco could cope with this. The fighting and the anger, it felt almost like their relationship always had felt. He tried not to think about the way this fight would have ended when they'd been eighteen, he knew there was no way it could ever end that way again. He didn't want it to end that way. Meanwhile, Theodore was still flushed with rage and drink. He had been raging all the time Draco had been thinking but Draco managed to catch the last words.



“You see. I knew you wouldn't take me up on it.”



“Take you up on what?” Draco doubted Theodore would realise that he'd been ranting to himself.



“My bet. The bet.” Draco waited for Nott to get to the point. “I'll bet you, for whatever prize you like, that I can fuck you before you can fuck me.” Draco allowed a glimmer of interest to enter his eyes at this point.



“On what terms?”



“One year. If nothing has happened before my next birthday then the bet is off.” Nott's drunkenness seemed to be wearing off. Draco was not surprised, no Slytherin could resist an opportunity like this. Cunning always beat alcohol. “And, it has to be pure seduction. You can't use force, magic or potions.”



“Obviously. What do I get when I win?” Theodore raised an eyebrow at that but smiled magnanimously.



“Your choice.” Draco's brain whirled. There was nothing he wanted from Nott, nothing he would bring himself to ask for. Unless... Draco considered all that he had said that day before finally forming his answer. He tested the words silently in his head first, making sure it made sense.



“Well, there's only one thing you're good for. Whoever wins gets one last fuck. Winner decides where, how and when.” Draco tried not to see Theodore's reaction. He knew Nott better than he knew anyone in the world but he didn't know how he would react and that unsettled him more than their argument. Nott said nothing, but proffered his hand and they shook upon the deal.







Theodore apparated back to Nott Manor after they had agreed and Draco liked to think that they both spent their evenings plotting and that he wasn't the only one whose night was filled with vivid dreams of days too long ago to ever really be recaptured.