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The Price of Competitiveness	By : Bickymonster Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1818 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any concepts or characters associated with it. I am not making any money from this this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Price of Competitiveness
- 2-The Rewards of Perseverance
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AN - Did not think that I was going to get this done in time for today (and it was a very close thing - so apologies for any mistakes, please feel free to point them out)
Happy Valentine's Day. Particularly to my wonderful girlfriend, Celtic Kitsune, to whom I gift this story.
The Rewards of Perseverance
It was finally Saturday, and after a long week of lessons and homework, Draco was very much looking forward to escaping the castle and visiting Hogsmeade. He knew that his peers felt similarly. It was likely why they had been in such a hurry to get down to breakfast.
Of course, it was also possible that the other Slytherin boys had simply grown bored of waiting for Draco to figure out his wardrobe for the day. Greg and Vince, in particular, had never had much patience for Draco’s extensive clothes selection process, certainly not when the option of food was available.
It had therefore seemed perfectly reasonable to Draco when he had believed himself alone in the dormitory. He took his time selecting several of his favourite items of clothing, carefully laying them out on top of his silken green bedspread; however, he paused as a small sound of movement caught his attention.
He had a strong suspicion that he knew exactly who it was that had quietly, sneakily, remained behind. He could all but feel those dark eyes upon him, a piercing gaze boring into his back. It was taking a lot to keep from turning to glare at the culprit. He knew, however, that any kind of stern look would only provoke his housemate, and encourage the ogling. It had been that way since the kiss they had shared in Snape’s office the week before. Draco had been doing all he could to avoid Blaise since then, but his housemate was annoyingly determined.
Draco pointedly ignored him, and instead held up two robes for comparison, one in each hand.
“You should go with the blue,” Blaise commented casually, the familiar voice confirming Draco’s suspicion.
Draco did turn and glare then, his arms drooping; only the magic woven into the fabric kept the high-end, personally-tailored robes from trailing on the floor.
“Just my two knuts’ worth,” Blaise said with a dismissive shrug.
Blaise was leaning against the doorframe, and Draco found himself in reluctant admiration of his housemate’s casual elegance. Draco steeled himself and narrowed his eyes further; he was not going to be encouraging Blaise. The corner of Blaise’s lips twitched in knowing amusement. Draco held his gaze for several dragging moments, but it did no good.
“The blue?” Draco asked with a resigned sigh. He was painfully aware, from experience, that Blaise was not only unlikely to let his opinion go unheard, but that Blaise was also blessed with a great talent for picking an outfit. And why should he to turn down free counsel when it was so willingly offered.
“The blue,” Blaise confirmed, pushing himself off from the doorframe and sauntering across the space between them. “Is a good shade for you. And the way it tapers just here,” he added, reaching out to brush his hand over Draco’s waist. He let the sentence trail into nothing, garnishing it with a lecherous wink.
“Pervert,” Draco grumbled as he turned to lay the blue robe with the rest of his clothes for the day, hoping that he had hidden the shudder that had shot up his spin at the other boy’s touch.
Blaise chuckled in amusement, the deep and rumbling sound causing a tightness in Draco’s gut.
“No, Draco,” Blaise told him, leaning in close so that Draco didn’t miss a word, despite the quiet, salacious tone, “if I wanted to be a pervert I would tell you to wear fancy under-britches.”
“Under-britches?” Draco asked incredulously, spinning around and batting Blaise away from him and back out of his personal space.
Blaise burst out in genuine laughter, dodging Draco’s swatting hands as best he could.
“You are ridiculous,” Draco stated simply, stubbornly trying to keep from laughing himself. He was not encouraging him, he reminded himself.
“Possibly,” Blaise admitted, shrugging his shoulders and taking a seat on Greg’s bed, which was next to Draco’s. “What?” he asked, when Draco stared at him expectantly.
“You’re intending to sit there and watch as I change?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow in question.
Blaise rolled his eyes dramatically. “We’ve been sharing a dormitory since we were eleven, Draco,” he reminded him, “you don’t have much that I haven’t already seen. And nothing at all that I wouldn’t care to,” he added under his breath.
Draco, however, stubbornly continued to look at him pointedly.
“Okay, okay,” Blaise said, raising his hands in surrender and getting back to his feet. “I’ll be waiting for you in the common room when you are done dolling yourself up,” he said once he was by the door, darting it out of it quickly and closing it behind him before Draco had a chance to respond.
It hadn’t escaped Draco’s notice that Blaise was surprisingly good at making sure he was out of reach at opportune times.
-#-
It was almost half an hour later when Draco finally made his way out of the boys’ dormitory and up the stairs to the common room. He had gone with Blaise’s recommendation, and was wearing the blue robe. Blaise had been undeniably right. It was a great robe.
Draco was only half surprised when spotted Blaise lounging in the closest chair, a book open in his lap.
“You actually waited,” Draco commented, moving to stand next to Slytherin-green armchair, peering down over Blaise’s shoulder to see what he was reading. He didn’t recognise it, even when Blaise flipped it shut, revealing the dark blue, leather cover. The golden script of the title was too worn to be easily read.
“Mhmm, I did,” Blaise hummed in agreement, tilting his head back to smile sweetly up at Draco, “despite your impressive procrastination skills.”
“I was not procrastinating,” Draco protested indignantly, his face scrunching at the affront. “I was simply dressing to a standard befitting of my station.” It could hardly be helped if it had taken quarter of an hour to ensure that every hair was styled to perfection.
“And very handsome you look too,” Blaise complimented, as he unfolded himself from the chair, absently dropping the closed book onto the vacated seat. “Now you can accompany me for a drink at The Three Broomsticks,” he stated, with an arrogantly smug smile.
“Blaise…” Draco said, narrowing his eyes.
“Or Madam Puddifoot’s, if that’s more the kind of atmosphere you were after,” Blaise added, looking particularly pleased with himself.
“You’re hilarious,” Draco deadpanned sarcastically.
“Yet another marvellous reason for you to spend today in my company,” Blaise pointed out, following Draco as the blond headed for the door. “We already know you’re… comfortable in my presence.”
Draco felt his cheeks flush at the thinly veiled reference to his potions mishap, but said nothing. He kept moving out into the dungeon corridor, making a deliberate effort to control his pace and not break into an undignified run, frustratingly aware that Blaise was right on his heels.
He hadn’t lied back then, Blaise truly had been comfortable, but despite the rather wonderful kiss they had shared, the discomfort Draco felt at something more developing between them was his overriding concern for the moment. He was a Malfoy, the last of his name, given that his parents had no intentions of providing him with any siblings; this came with a certain degree of obligation that he couldn’t ignore.
“You are definitely thinking too hard,” Blaise told him as he properly caught up with the blond, matching his stride, and linking his arm with Draco’s.
Draco looked over at him. “This is not a date,” he stated firmly, though he did nothing to pull away.
“Whatever you say, handsome,” Blaise told him with a charming and far-from-innocent smile. “Just going to keep you company, and if you decide you do want to be all mine in the meantime…” he trailed off, with a shrug of his shoulder.
“Not going to happen,” Draco insisted.
“Whatever you say, handsome,” Blaise said again, smiling in amusement as they headed down the front steps of the castle.
-#-
The Three Broomsticks was crowded, thanks to the many students who were making the most of the opportunity to drink something other than pumpkin juice, and the room was loud with the sound of overlapping conversations.
Draco and Blaise stopped just inside the door, both looking around in vain for a free table. So when Pansy stood up and waved them over, Draco tried to convince himself that it was relief that he was feeling. It wasn’t like he wanted this to be a date.
“Well that’s a shame,” Blaise bemoaned with a dramatically resigned sigh, and a look that gave Draco the unsettling sensation that his dormmate knew far too much about exactly what Draco was feeling. “It looks like you’ll have to share me for the moment. Though the offer to go to Madam Puddifoot’s still stands...”
“As I said, hilarious,” Draco deadpanned once more. Not waiting for a response, he headed off towards the table where Pansy, Theo, Tracy, Daphne, Vince and Greg were gathered.
As he wound his way between the tables, avoiding the wild gesticulation of some other patrons, a hand pressed against the small of Draco’s back and only well-practiced self-control kept him from flinching. He glanced over his shoulder, just to be sure that it was, as he suspected, Blaise. Sure enough his housemate was right there, smiling with infuriating charm. Draco did his best to ignore the warmth rising in his cheeks and resisted the urge to hex Blaise.
“What are you smiling about?” Pansy asked Draco as they reached the table.
“I’m not,” Draco stated firmly, and possibly a little too quickly, forcing the traitorous corners of his mouth back down to where they belonged. He absolutely had not been smiling, and definitely not about the feel of Blaise’s hand on his back.
“Don’t be silly, Pansy,” Blaise stated as he stole two momentarily vacant chairs from nearby tables, placing one behind Draco and squeezing the other into the small space between Daphne and Theo, “you know Draco doesn’t express emotions.”
Draco huffed quietly as he sat down, silently grateful for the chair but ignoring the amused smirks that Blaise and Pansy were sharing. He knew that Blaise hadn’t intended the sarcastic remark to be a compliment, but he was going to take it that way regardless. Any issue they took with that was their problem, not his.
“Not without the aid of potions anyway,” Tracey pointed out snarkily, to a round of tittering laughter from the others.
Draco, however, was not amused. He frowned, wondering just how long it would be before one of their peers made a blunder large enough to distract from his own humiliation. He rather hoped it would be Blaise, theorising that the other boy might become too busy, dealing with whatever fallout, to keep up with his time-consuming stalk-Draco campaign.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Draco told them, but Blaise was there, hand on his shoulder before Draco could even get to his feet.
“I’ll get it. Butterbeer?” Blaise asked, waiting only long enough for Draco’s vaguely bemused nod before disappearing into the hordes around them.
There was an uncomfortable, silent tension at the table then and Daphne gave Draco a demanding look, awaiting some kind of explanation; the others seemed perfectly content to let her lead the charge in their wordless integration. Draco, however, knew that nothing short of Cruciatus was going to get his tongue wagging on this particular subject. It was none of their business. Besides, he wasn’t entirely clear on what was happening himself, certainly not well enough to put it into informative sentences.
“Are we having lunch here?” Greg asked after a few moments, and everyone turned to look at him.
“What? We were just wondering,” Vince, who was sat next to him, added.
“We only had breakfast an hour and half ago,” Pansy pointed out with obvious disbelief. “Even you two can’t actually be hungry again already!”
“They’re always hungry,” Theo pointed out dryly before turning to Vince and Greg. “Get yourselves more Butterbeers,” he suggested. “Madam Rosmerta probably has some cakes or something if you really need to eat again that badly.”
Greg and Vince looked rather keen on that suggestion, hurrying off to go and find the pub landlady. Blaise had to move quickly to the side, when the two mountainous teens barged passed him, and he only just managed not to spill the glasses of butterbeer he was holding, one in each hand.
“Where were those two off to?” Blaise asked as he placed one of them down in front of Draco.
"Food," Tracey informed him bluntly, and he simply nodded in understanding.
“Budge along,” Blaise told Theo.
Theo looked up at him in confusion, and Blaise gave a small wave of his hand, gesturing that he wanted Theo to move along a seat. Theo, despite appearing unimpressed with the suggestion, did as requested, taking the seat that Blaise had placed next to Daphne earlier. Blaise promptly took the now vacate seat next to Draco, and sipped at his drink.
“This is not a date,” Draco muttered quietly through clenched teeth, knowing his words would mostly unheard over the chatter of people around them.
Blaise, however, placed his drink on the table and smiled at Draco once more. “Whatever you say…” he said, pausing to lean close enough that only Draco would be able to hear him, “…handsome.”
“I’m going to find the bathroom,” Draco said dryly, pointedly ignoring Pansy’s sniggering amusement. He was also doing his utmost to pretend not to notice the way that Blaise’s gaze trailed the length of his body as he stood up. “Don’t drink my drink,” he told Pansy before heading in the direction of the loos.
-#-
Draco was feeling a bit more in control of himself and his rising temper as he made his way back to the table ten minutes later. Though the sight of Blaise sat at the table alone, had Draco feeling so many conflicting emotions that he wasn’t quite sure where to start.
“Where did the others go?” Draco asked, taking a seat across from Blaise. He picked up his drink when Blaise pushed it towards him, and took a large sip.
“They somehow got the impression we would appreciate some time alone,” Blaise told him.
Draco had been expecting the same teasing humour that Blaise had been using all day, but there was something bordering on vulnerable in the way Blaise spoke, in the way those dark eyes were observing him.
“Is this a date?” Draco asked quietly, and he genuinely wasn’t sure what answer to hope for.
“It’s whatever you say it is, handsome,” Blaise replied, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. Draco chuckled softly and shook his head. “Though, I have already been considering you at least a little bit mine ever since that kiss,” Blaise informed him, “so you will need to come up with an impressively convincing argument if the answer’s no.”
Draco gaped at him for a few seconds, before the indignity of it dawned on him and he snapped his mouth closed. His gut felt like it was twisted into a Gordian Knot, making him feel like he might bring up the small amount of Butterbeer he had actually consumed. It wasn’t painful though, nor even strictly unpleasant; more… disconcerting.
“What do you want from me?” Draco asked, before his brain could managed to put together a sentence that didn’t sound like an accusation.
“I am fairly sure the kiss we shared last week made that apparent,” Blaise said, unfazed. “Not to mention my comment regarding my possessive intentions… all of twenty seconds ago. I can hear your brain churning through all the reasons not to from here, and I can tell you now I have carefully considered responses for each of your excuses; perhaps you should consider all the reasons we should.”
Draco watched as Blaise elegantly leaned back in his chair, long lean limbs stretching, his dark skin flawlessly taut over the subtle curvature of his muscles. As much as Draco’s parents’ disapproval was screaming in his head, Draco could indeed think of many good reasons to give Blaise a chance. It wasn't like he was committing to anything.
“Very well,” Draco agreed after a few moments, almost regretting his choice when he saw the breadth of Blaise’s smug grin. “But I expect to be showered with extravagant gifts for as long as this dating continues.”
“Of course,” Blaise agreed easily, leaning forward in his chair, arms resting on the table and fixing Draco with an intense but unreadable expression.
“You still have some convincing to do,” Draco warned, knowing that there were concerns he had that no complexion, smile, or buttocks, no matter how exquisite, would be able to quash.
“I would have been most disappointed if you made this easy, Draco,” Blaise told him earnestly, letting the name roll off his tongue with deliberate slowness. “Perhaps I could even earn a kiss for my efforts by the end of this date?” he asked hopefully.
“Maybe,” Draco agreed, suppressing the amused smile that tried to break free, hiding it behind another sip of his drink. After all, he did feel that Blaise deserved some kind of reward for his perseverance.
For the moment I once again have no concrete plans to write any more of this story, but I imagine at some point we might see some more of these two.
Hope you enjoyed it.
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The Price of Competitiveness