you give love a bad name
Draco was having a lovely Thursday evening, spending the time reading books on new Quidditch techniques and scribbling down any potion ideas that came to mind. Of course, Draco could be more productive.
Wait. No, he actually couldn’t.
Because Harry was playing unnecessary, loud, cantankerous garbage. Usually, Draco can drown it out and chalk it up to Harry going through a ‘hardcore’ phase.
But it’s been over a year.
His so-called “music” booming from underneath Draco’s room was trembling the floorboards, shaking the windows, and rattling the thoughts inside Draco’s mind. Which wasn’t “punk rock” at all.