Before the Storm
Title: Before the Storm
Pairing: Draco/Elijah
Rating: PG
Notes: #17, for sparcck. Follows When It Rains.
Draco woke in the middle of the night to a soft scrabbling of talons, a hoot familiar enough to both set him at ease and wake him up fully. Elijah’s skin was sticky and hot against his, the two of them tangled together the way they seemed to end up every night, regardless of how warm it was outside.
He separated himself from Elijah carefully, so as not to wake him, and padded into the guest bedroom he used as a working space to meet the owl at the window. It was his own, and she hooted softly when he scratched beneath her chin, unwrapping the scroll from her leg and scanning the words written on the parchment.
Come soon, the words read when he decrypted them with a whispered spell. Attack on Muggles at Southampton, possible wild magic residue. The note was signed H. without flourish, which meant Harry was probably already on the scene. Draco sighed and set the parchment alight with a quick wave of his wand.
He didn’t have much time, he knew. Wild magic meant he could be there for hours trying to contain and diffuse it, and he was running short on the list of excuses he had for leaving unexpectedly and at odd hours. Elijah never said a word, but it was a lack of argument that made Draco nervous, rather than reassured.
He wasn’t usually so reckless, but he was barely awake and it was an emergency, so he used his wand to pack supplies and a change of clothing, compressing everything into a carpetbag and Transfiguring it neatly into a light satchel. He flicked his wand towards the books on the shelves, pulling the ones he thought he might need for reference, stacking them in mid-air and preparing to Transfigure them as well... And that was when he saw Elijah standing in the doorway.
He almost did something unforgivable, his reflexes and training quick enough that Obliviate was on his tongue almost before he realized what he was about to do. He caught himself at the last minute, swallowed the word and the surge of startled energy, and lowered his wand slowly. The books and satchel drifted to the floor, and Elijah stared at him as if he’d never seen Draco before this, and had no idea what he was doing here.
Draco’s chest was tight, and he didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry, I’m a wizard? Harry had warned him this would happen. You of all people, he’d said. You know how important it is that Muggles never know about us, never know the truth. And now Elijah looked at him like a stranger, instead of with the soft warmth in his eyes that Draco had seen only a few hours before, as the sweat cooled and they drifted off to sleep.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Elijah finally asked. He sounded remarkably calm, for someone who had seen his lover directing a stack of books through the air with a magic wand only moments before. Draco struggled for an answer and could only come up with the truth.
“I couldn’t. We never tell unless we have to.” The look on Elijah’s face didn’t change, but he stayed silent, waiting for Draco to finish. Only, Draco didn’t have anything more to say. “Would you have believed me if I had?” he asked finally.
Elijah remained silent, and then shook his head slowly. “I always knew you were lying,” he said quietly. “I just never knew about what.”
Draco’s heart clenched unpleasantly. There was a mask over Elijah’s eyes, the same one Draco saw when he lied and said he’d been called away on business, or that the strangers who showed up regularly in Elijah’s shop were old friends from school. Draco had seen what was beneath that mask, but he didn’t know how to get under it now, how to reach Elijah and make that distance go away. Elijah looked cold standing there in the doorway, as untouchable as sculpted marble.
“I never lied,” Draco said. “Not exactly.”
“What kind of a meteorologist gets called away to a ‘weather emergency’ in the middle of the night, and doesn’t come home for days?” Elijah asked, and there was a touch of steel in his voice now, a sharp edge of hurt that Draco could discern beneath the chill aloofness. “Who sometimes spends all day working on diagrams and poring through old books, and has whispered conferences with ‘old friends’ who don’t even call him by his first name?”
Draco spread his hands, as much of an apology as he could make, for this. “I didn’t know what else to tell you.”
“You could have tried the truth,” Elijah said simply, and turned to walk away.
“Elijah,” Draco said desperately. Elijah stopped, closing his eyes for a long moment, and this time when he opened them, the mask was gone, and there was nothing in his gaze but raw hurt and an undercurrent of anger.
“If I go back to sleep now, will you try to tell me this was all a dream in the morning? That it never happened, and no one can move books with the power of their mind and a stick?” Elijah challenged. Draco had a brief moment of regret that he wouldn’t be able to do just that, but he ignored it and concentrated on the present situation.
“I won’t be here in the morning,” he answered steadily. “I have a weath-” he caught himself just in time, as Elijah’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the lie. “An emergency that needs to be dealt with. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can, and we can talk about this. The truth. But I have to go now.”
Elijah stood silent, watching him, and finally Draco asked quietly over the tight constriction in his chest, “Will you still be here when I come back?”
Elijah studied him. Draco couldn’t breathe, and wanted to curse himself for not realizing this had happened, that he’d ever let himself get so vulnerable that a Muggle could look at him and his whole world threatened to collapse. How he could have ever allowed this to occur was completely beyond his comprehension.
“Yes,” Elijah said finally, and the breath gusted out of Draco’s lungs, his hand shakily clutching his wand as he nodded gratefully. “Will you?” Elijah asked then, eyes distant again. “Come back?”
Draco stooped to pick up the satchel, and the stack of books flattened into a single envelope, which he picked up and pocketed. “Yes,” he answered honestly, putting all of the sincerity he could into the word. “I’ll come back.”
“Then I’ll be here,” Elijah answered, and walked away. Draco watched him go, and then shook himself mentally and set himself up for Apparation.
He wondered if it was irony or coincidence that when he arrived in Southampton, it was raining.
Pairing: Draco/Elijah
Rating: PG
Notes: #17, for sparcck. Follows When It Rains.
Draco woke in the middle of the night to a soft scrabbling of talons, a hoot familiar enough to both set him at ease and wake him up fully. Elijah’s skin was sticky and hot against his, the two of them tangled together the way they seemed to end up every night, regardless of how warm it was outside.
He separated himself from Elijah carefully, so as not to wake him, and padded into the guest bedroom he used as a working space to meet the owl at the window. It was his own, and she hooted softly when he scratched beneath her chin, unwrapping the scroll from her leg and scanning the words written on the parchment.
Come soon, the words read when he decrypted them with a whispered spell. Attack on Muggles at Southampton, possible wild magic residue. The note was signed H. without flourish, which meant Harry was probably already on the scene. Draco sighed and set the parchment alight with a quick wave of his wand.
He didn’t have much time, he knew. Wild magic meant he could be there for hours trying to contain and diffuse it, and he was running short on the list of excuses he had for leaving unexpectedly and at odd hours. Elijah never said a word, but it was a lack of argument that made Draco nervous, rather than reassured.
He wasn’t usually so reckless, but he was barely awake and it was an emergency, so he used his wand to pack supplies and a change of clothing, compressing everything into a carpetbag and Transfiguring it neatly into a light satchel. He flicked his wand towards the books on the shelves, pulling the ones he thought he might need for reference, stacking them in mid-air and preparing to Transfigure them as well... And that was when he saw Elijah standing in the doorway.
He almost did something unforgivable, his reflexes and training quick enough that Obliviate was on his tongue almost before he realized what he was about to do. He caught himself at the last minute, swallowed the word and the surge of startled energy, and lowered his wand slowly. The books and satchel drifted to the floor, and Elijah stared at him as if he’d never seen Draco before this, and had no idea what he was doing here.
Draco’s chest was tight, and he didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry, I’m a wizard? Harry had warned him this would happen. You of all people, he’d said. You know how important it is that Muggles never know about us, never know the truth. And now Elijah looked at him like a stranger, instead of with the soft warmth in his eyes that Draco had seen only a few hours before, as the sweat cooled and they drifted off to sleep.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Elijah finally asked. He sounded remarkably calm, for someone who had seen his lover directing a stack of books through the air with a magic wand only moments before. Draco struggled for an answer and could only come up with the truth.
“I couldn’t. We never tell unless we have to.” The look on Elijah’s face didn’t change, but he stayed silent, waiting for Draco to finish. Only, Draco didn’t have anything more to say. “Would you have believed me if I had?” he asked finally.
Elijah remained silent, and then shook his head slowly. “I always knew you were lying,” he said quietly. “I just never knew about what.”
Draco’s heart clenched unpleasantly. There was a mask over Elijah’s eyes, the same one Draco saw when he lied and said he’d been called away on business, or that the strangers who showed up regularly in Elijah’s shop were old friends from school. Draco had seen what was beneath that mask, but he didn’t know how to get under it now, how to reach Elijah and make that distance go away. Elijah looked cold standing there in the doorway, as untouchable as sculpted marble.
“I never lied,” Draco said. “Not exactly.”
“What kind of a meteorologist gets called away to a ‘weather emergency’ in the middle of the night, and doesn’t come home for days?” Elijah asked, and there was a touch of steel in his voice now, a sharp edge of hurt that Draco could discern beneath the chill aloofness. “Who sometimes spends all day working on diagrams and poring through old books, and has whispered conferences with ‘old friends’ who don’t even call him by his first name?”
Draco spread his hands, as much of an apology as he could make, for this. “I didn’t know what else to tell you.”
“You could have tried the truth,” Elijah said simply, and turned to walk away.
“Elijah,” Draco said desperately. Elijah stopped, closing his eyes for a long moment, and this time when he opened them, the mask was gone, and there was nothing in his gaze but raw hurt and an undercurrent of anger.
“If I go back to sleep now, will you try to tell me this was all a dream in the morning? That it never happened, and no one can move books with the power of their mind and a stick?” Elijah challenged. Draco had a brief moment of regret that he wouldn’t be able to do just that, but he ignored it and concentrated on the present situation.
“I won’t be here in the morning,” he answered steadily. “I have a weath-” he caught himself just in time, as Elijah’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the lie. “An emergency that needs to be dealt with. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can, and we can talk about this. The truth. But I have to go now.”
Elijah stood silent, watching him, and finally Draco asked quietly over the tight constriction in his chest, “Will you still be here when I come back?”
Elijah studied him. Draco couldn’t breathe, and wanted to curse himself for not realizing this had happened, that he’d ever let himself get so vulnerable that a Muggle could look at him and his whole world threatened to collapse. How he could have ever allowed this to occur was completely beyond his comprehension.
“Yes,” Elijah said finally, and the breath gusted out of Draco’s lungs, his hand shakily clutching his wand as he nodded gratefully. “Will you?” Elijah asked then, eyes distant again. “Come back?”
Draco stooped to pick up the satchel, and the stack of books flattened into a single envelope, which he picked up and pocketed. “Yes,” he answered honestly, putting all of the sincerity he could into the word. “I’ll come back.”
“Then I’ll be here,” Elijah answered, and walked away. Draco watched him go, and then shook himself mentally and set himself up for Apparation.
He wondered if it was irony or coincidence that when he arrived in Southampton, it was raining.