He looked at Potter’s dishevelled hair, at his slightly tipsy smile and felt all the venom and jealousy swirling inside of him.  Fuck.  This petty man wasn’t him. These weren't his feelings. It was only a curse making him feel that way. Real Draco didn’t care with whom Potter slept. So what if he was easy? Even better. For Virgil. For Draco. For his plan to work.