He spent the rest of the night in the bed Blaise summoned for him, deciding who he hated more; Narcissa or Weasley, coming to the conclusion that they were both evil cows, his mother dressed better, Weasley had better oral hygiene, and that he had the most abominably disastrous luck to have to have lived with both of them.
…………………………………………………………
As the days passed, Draco was elated to learn of Weasley’s habit of being in short supply around Blaise’s apartment; she was gone for most of the day and hid that sodding face of hers in her bedroom or a tin of food most of the rest of the time. Were he not a Malfoy, and had he not other things to do, he’d have jumped for poncy joy.
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Chowing down over chow mein, it was Colin who brought it up. The young ex-Gryffindor was a bit unsettling at times, but completely and disgustingly as infatuated with Blaise as Blaise was with him. Draco tried not to think about them when he ate.
“So, Malfoy, are you still searching the job market?” Colin asked, breaking the silence with what he hoped to be a conversation starter. Draco frowned a bit. “Yes. No luck yet on that account.”
He heard a dry chuckle to his left, and already knew it would come from the she-devil perched cross-legged on the counter top like a domestic monkey, but not as well-trained. “What’s the matter, Malfoy? Male prostitution not paying as well as it used to?”
MUAHAHAHA. poncy joy and abominally disastrous luck. got to love the language.