Draco flinched and wiped his mouth. He would have liked to protest that Harry could never have been called sweet, but Anthony's language was leaving him lost for words. He'd had to summon up a lot of something or other just to say the word 'cock' on a public street.
It hurt most of all because he knew Ant was right; he had known, at least deep down, what he was getting into, and he'd gone along with it not because he was drunk but because he craved human connection, of any kind. His father hadn't even tried to touch him at the hospital; he couldn't remember the last time his mother had hugged him. Harry was long gone. He was utterly alone, and the promise of being touched, of being treated even remotely like a human being, was just as addictive as any substance he'd ever put into his body.
Now he was breathing hard through his nostrils and his heart was pounding. He wanted it again and Ant knew, he could tell he knew, the condescending bastard. They were standing almost toe to toe and the tension was palpable. Anger was only the tip of the iceberg.
Draco held up the bag between them like a shield. "Hungry?" he croaked, looking up at Anthony with fiery grey eyes.