And So it Begins Part 16
There has always been a strange disconnect between Brian and your bedroom. At least, to you. Regardless of the nights spent here and how he claims, every time, that he doesn’t mind “slumming it”, the contrast of his high-end, designer clothes and your shabby bed linens always seem at odds with each other. His tailored pants and elegant smile create a strange image when paired with your mish mash of cheap and worn furniture.
But nothing is stranger than seeing him sit on the corner of your bed with a copy of the Daily Prophet between his hands.
His eyes are heavy, mistrustful as he unfolds the paper. He keeps his eyes on you and you beg him silently to proceed. He looks down to where the entire front page is exposed. Moving picture of Minister Weasley shaking hands with an upper-level Ministry official and all. The image recycles itself and Brian’s eyes widen. He flips the page over, looking at the back of the cover. Patting the thin piece of paper in attempts to find the technology that allows it to move.
When it is clear there is nothing more than a sheet of newsprint there, he looks to you.
“The picture…it’s impossible. How is it…And, dragons? You can’t be serious?” His face softens into a smile. After all, a joke would be so much easier to understand.
“Just read it.”
“But I don’t…”
“Please.” You beg, pressing a trembling hand to your forehead and softening your voice. “Just read the paper. I’ll explain everything to you later… I just don’t know any other way to do this.”
Brian recognizes the desperation in your eyes, the pain in your voice. He nods and begins reading in earnest.
You pace across the small expanse of room at the foot of your bed. Biting at your nails. Nipping the dry skin around your cuticles. Tasting blood when you bite too hard. Watching Brian’s face, as the lines on his forehead grow deeper and deeper in confusion.
He has, from those first few nights you spent together, been fascinated by you. Sensed that there is something different about you. And now, as he finds himself in the moment where that curiosity is about to be explained, he faces it solemnly. And with a faint concern that, perhaps, he doesn’t want to know. He steals a few looks at you. Small sounds of disbelief escaping his lips. His expression rides a fine line between distress and simply thinking you’ve gone round the bend.
But then something he reads makes him gasp and you stop your pacing. He holds the paper out at arms length, pointing at something with his free hand.
“Narcissa Malfoy. That’s….that’s your mother’s name.” He stammers. You do not know if you have ever heard him sound so apprehensive.
You nod. “Yes. And Pansy Parkinson is…”
“The girl you lost your virginity to.”
A small smile and another nod. “Yes.”
“What the hell is this, Draco?” He whispers.
“That’s a copy of the Daily Prophet. It’s the largest publication in England which serves the magical community.”
He puts a hand out to stop you. “So what you’re telling me is that this is real? The news in this paper…it isn’t some joke? Some prank?”
“No it is quite real. This paper, the world that is written about in it, it’s my world. It’s kept hidden from this world, from Muggles - which is what we call you non-magical people. We keep them separate to protect our way of life. And yours. But that,” You point to the paper he still holds limply in his hand, “is the world I grew up in. The one I left when I came here.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not, Brian.”
“Then how the hell did you get it? It’s dated April 3rd of this year? You haven’t been home in over two years.” His face is so channeled with lines of confusion that his face must be hurting by now.
“I got it the weekend we were in New York. New York has a very large wizarding district too…”
“Oh, hold the fuck on!” He stands suddenly, a cynical look on his face. “Now you’re telling me New York City has its own fantasy world too? Oh that’s just fucking fantastic. Where do they hide it? In the subways?”
“SoHo.” You deadpan, crossing your arms.
He stops his own pacing to look at you at you and simply laughs at the impossibility of it all.
“So what you’re saying is that while I was in my interview, you went to some special part of New York that is hidden from the rest of the world, got a fancy, magical newspaper with moving pictures in it and headlines about dragon’s, which also just so happens to have an article about your mother in it?”
“I know it sounds strange…”
“Strange, Draco, does not even begin to cover it!” He yells, throwing the paper against the wall. He takes wide steps away from the bed and you. His gestures take on a frantic, frenetic edge as he speaks. “Look I don’t know what kind of fool you take me for but a Ministry for Magic? Advertisements for cauldrons? Scores for some sport that I’ve never even heard of? You really expect me to believe this!?”
“I’d hoped you might.” You begin lamely.
“No!” He cuts you off shortly. “It simply means that either you have gone completely insane or I have, because this is NOT possible.”
You had expected this sort of reaction from him. He is after all an incredibly rational man and you are asking him to accept something that is completely irrational. But nevertheless, tears of frustration begin to sting at the corners of your eyes.
You lunge for where your wand sits on your dresser. You had taken it out along with the newspaper when you first brought Brian in to the room because you knew it would eventually come to this. Time for some show and tell. With a quick Accio you have the paper in your hands and Brian’s complete attention once more.
“How the fuck…” He looks from where the paper once lay on the floor and where you now hold it. Even though it was one of most benign spell you could have cast, Brian is horrified.
“It’s called a summoning charm.” You try to keep your voice calm and steady. Brian’s panic is enough for the both of you. “It’s one of the most basic spells that we learn very early on in school. The first one we learn is a levitation charm.” One swish and flick later and the news paper hovers unsteadily in front of you. You were always crap at levitation charms and you have to concentrate too hard on the spell to notice the drastic shift in Brian’s demeanor.
“Stop!” Brian yells, a hysterical tone in his voice. “Just stop!”
The paper flutters to the ground.
Brian has gone pale, his eyes pained. In his expression you are able to see so clearly what he is feeling, just as you always have. You see distrust. Denial. You see that to him, you are no longer the man he knew all these months, but a stranger. You are not the man he opened his heart to and allowed closer than any lover he has ever known. He sees you as nothing more than someone - something - he cannot understand.
“This can’t be happening. It’s madness. And I can’t… I won’t be a part of this.” He starts to push his way past you out of the room, but you grab his arm. Holding on tight so he can’t go.
“Brian, please. I’m telling you the truth. This is who I am. I’m a wizard.”
“That’s impossible!”
“I swear to you.” You stroke his arm. Touching his oh-so-familiar form trying to get him to look at you like he used to. “It’s still me, Brian. I just have this ability that I didn’t tell you about until now. But I haven’t changed. It’s still me.”
Your voice fades to a soft whisper and for the briefest second you feel his muscles under your fingers relax. And for that briefest second you think maybe, just maybe, he can calm down enough to believe you. To understand. To accept. You reach for him with your other hand, hoping to pull him against you in a soothing embrace.
But then his eyes begin to glow. Not with confusion or bewilderment. But repugnance. Disgust. A snarl forms on his lips and he rips his arm from you grasp.
“You’re nothing more than a …”
The words are bitten. Spit out around bared teeth. He stops himself, trembling, and glares.
Something inside you twists. Snaps.
“I’m what, Brian? Say it! Tell me what you really think of me! Now that you know the whole truth about Draco fucking Malfoy lets have it.” You open your arms to your side. Willing him to take his best shot. “What, you think I’m a freak? An aberration? Some grotesque monstrosity? Don’t you think I already fucking know that? Don’t you think I feel that every day that I’m here with you? I've been pretending to be like you when everyday I wake up and know that I'm not!”
“No, you’re worse than all that!.” He cuts you off, his voice booming as he rounds on you. His eyes still hold that hard glint of repugnance, but there is something new there too. Something perhaps you had missed before. Something that hurts even more than all the rest. It looks frighteningly like disappointment.
And in a much softer, but no less piercing voice, he declares, “You’re a liar, Draco.”
Just as you had, moments prior, been swept up by all consuming anger, your emotions give you whip lash, as they churn and swirl in a completely new direction. Filling you with nothing less than utter regret.
You sob softly. Your limbs go weak and you collapse back against the wall. Sliding down until you hit the floor, your legs splaying out in front of you.
“Don’t you think I know that too? Just one more thing to add to the long list of my life’s indiscretions. But I’m done with the lies, Brian. I’m done with keeping things from you. I’m done with pretending to be something I’m not. I’m done with all of that and only want to give you the truth.”
“But I don’t believe you.” He says quickly. But the words lack the finality of one who will never be convinced. He sits down carefully, resuming the same position he had when this whole fiasco started, on the corner of your bed. “How can I?” He mumbles, as he drops his head to his hands.
For several minutes the room is still. The air still tense from your raised voices and impassioned words.
In the quiet, you berate yourself for thinking you could deny being a wizard. For letting yourself fall so hard for Brian. For getting so close. And for thinking that love would be enough to save you. You blame Brian for being so perfect. For making you need him in your life with his strength and confidence. You curse your parents for having you. For giving you the gift of magic, while at the same time, burdening you with the Malfoy name. You curse Voldemort for starting the first war and Potter for living and causing the second. You damn Pittsburgh and snowstorms and warm bars and fate.
And all the while, Brian sits. Lost in a silent struggle with reality.
You do not know how many minutes later it happens, but finally, he stands. And you feel your throat tighten with a new wave of tears.
This is it. Now is the moment he leaves.
But instead he stands in front of you and puts out his hand. With a cautious look, you place your palm in his and he pulls you up onto two feet so you are standing chest to chest.
He takes a deep breath and begins. “If all of this business with you being a wizard and there being this parallel magical world is true, I want you to prove it.”
“But I have already.” You say pathetically. “The newspaper and the spells….”
“No, you don’t understand what I’m saying. Prove it, Draco. Make it so I have no choice but to believe you.”
Your brain slowly begins to understand.
"You want me to..."
"Do whatever it takes. Whatever you have to do." He nods gently, as if answering some voice in his head that asked if he was really sure. He presses his lips together. "I want to believe you."
A final tear trickles warmly down your face. Leaving in its wake the faintest glimmer of hope.
You look at him. His expression determined and strong. And you can think of only one thing that will prove your magical ability. Only one thing that will confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Only one way that Brian could truly be convinced. And that would be seeing it with his own eyes.
Your thumb works around the heavy ring on your finger, instantly drawn to that bit of magic, righting it so the stone rests on the top of your hand. You slip your arm around his waist, pulling his body close to yours. Redouble the grip on your wand. Steady your stance.
“Whatever you do, don't let go.” You say gravely. He swallows and nods, encircling his arms around you, clenching his fingers in the fabric of your tee-shirt. Understanding your orders if not understanding what is about to happen.
And in that split second before you activate the portkey on your ring that will take you back to the Manor, the long forgotten sensation of being yanked by your navel overwhelming you, your thoughts are not consumed by the idea of finally returning home or seeing your mother or of the danger that you might be thrusting Brian into. But instead, you can think of nothing but the perfect feeling of having Brian's arms so tightly wrapped about you. And the relief that feeling brings.
But nothing is stranger than seeing him sit on the corner of your bed with a copy of the Daily Prophet between his hands.
His eyes are heavy, mistrustful as he unfolds the paper. He keeps his eyes on you and you beg him silently to proceed. He looks down to where the entire front page is exposed. Moving picture of Minister Weasley shaking hands with an upper-level Ministry official and all. The image recycles itself and Brian’s eyes widen. He flips the page over, looking at the back of the cover. Patting the thin piece of paper in attempts to find the technology that allows it to move.
When it is clear there is nothing more than a sheet of newsprint there, he looks to you.
“The picture…it’s impossible. How is it…And, dragons? You can’t be serious?” His face softens into a smile. After all, a joke would be so much easier to understand.
“Just read it.”
“But I don’t…”
“Please.” You beg, pressing a trembling hand to your forehead and softening your voice. “Just read the paper. I’ll explain everything to you later… I just don’t know any other way to do this.”
Brian recognizes the desperation in your eyes, the pain in your voice. He nods and begins reading in earnest.
You pace across the small expanse of room at the foot of your bed. Biting at your nails. Nipping the dry skin around your cuticles. Tasting blood when you bite too hard. Watching Brian’s face, as the lines on his forehead grow deeper and deeper in confusion.
He has, from those first few nights you spent together, been fascinated by you. Sensed that there is something different about you. And now, as he finds himself in the moment where that curiosity is about to be explained, he faces it solemnly. And with a faint concern that, perhaps, he doesn’t want to know. He steals a few looks at you. Small sounds of disbelief escaping his lips. His expression rides a fine line between distress and simply thinking you’ve gone round the bend.
But then something he reads makes him gasp and you stop your pacing. He holds the paper out at arms length, pointing at something with his free hand.
“Narcissa Malfoy. That’s….that’s your mother’s name.” He stammers. You do not know if you have ever heard him sound so apprehensive.
You nod. “Yes. And Pansy Parkinson is…”
“The girl you lost your virginity to.”
A small smile and another nod. “Yes.”
“What the hell is this, Draco?” He whispers.
“That’s a copy of the Daily Prophet. It’s the largest publication in England which serves the magical community.”
He puts a hand out to stop you. “So what you’re telling me is that this is real? The news in this paper…it isn’t some joke? Some prank?”
“No it is quite real. This paper, the world that is written about in it, it’s my world. It’s kept hidden from this world, from Muggles - which is what we call you non-magical people. We keep them separate to protect our way of life. And yours. But that,” You point to the paper he still holds limply in his hand, “is the world I grew up in. The one I left when I came here.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not, Brian.”
“Then how the hell did you get it? It’s dated April 3rd of this year? You haven’t been home in over two years.” His face is so channeled with lines of confusion that his face must be hurting by now.
“I got it the weekend we were in New York. New York has a very large wizarding district too…”
“Oh, hold the fuck on!” He stands suddenly, a cynical look on his face. “Now you’re telling me New York City has its own fantasy world too? Oh that’s just fucking fantastic. Where do they hide it? In the subways?”
“SoHo.” You deadpan, crossing your arms.
He stops his own pacing to look at you at you and simply laughs at the impossibility of it all.
“So what you’re saying is that while I was in my interview, you went to some special part of New York that is hidden from the rest of the world, got a fancy, magical newspaper with moving pictures in it and headlines about dragon’s, which also just so happens to have an article about your mother in it?”
“I know it sounds strange…”
“Strange, Draco, does not even begin to cover it!” He yells, throwing the paper against the wall. He takes wide steps away from the bed and you. His gestures take on a frantic, frenetic edge as he speaks. “Look I don’t know what kind of fool you take me for but a Ministry for Magic? Advertisements for cauldrons? Scores for some sport that I’ve never even heard of? You really expect me to believe this!?”
“I’d hoped you might.” You begin lamely.
“No!” He cuts you off shortly. “It simply means that either you have gone completely insane or I have, because this is NOT possible.”
You had expected this sort of reaction from him. He is after all an incredibly rational man and you are asking him to accept something that is completely irrational. But nevertheless, tears of frustration begin to sting at the corners of your eyes.
You lunge for where your wand sits on your dresser. You had taken it out along with the newspaper when you first brought Brian in to the room because you knew it would eventually come to this. Time for some show and tell. With a quick Accio you have the paper in your hands and Brian’s complete attention once more.
“How the fuck…” He looks from where the paper once lay on the floor and where you now hold it. Even though it was one of most benign spell you could have cast, Brian is horrified.
“It’s called a summoning charm.” You try to keep your voice calm and steady. Brian’s panic is enough for the both of you. “It’s one of the most basic spells that we learn very early on in school. The first one we learn is a levitation charm.” One swish and flick later and the news paper hovers unsteadily in front of you. You were always crap at levitation charms and you have to concentrate too hard on the spell to notice the drastic shift in Brian’s demeanor.
“Stop!” Brian yells, a hysterical tone in his voice. “Just stop!”
The paper flutters to the ground.
Brian has gone pale, his eyes pained. In his expression you are able to see so clearly what he is feeling, just as you always have. You see distrust. Denial. You see that to him, you are no longer the man he knew all these months, but a stranger. You are not the man he opened his heart to and allowed closer than any lover he has ever known. He sees you as nothing more than someone - something - he cannot understand.
“This can’t be happening. It’s madness. And I can’t… I won’t be a part of this.” He starts to push his way past you out of the room, but you grab his arm. Holding on tight so he can’t go.
“Brian, please. I’m telling you the truth. This is who I am. I’m a wizard.”
“That’s impossible!”
“I swear to you.” You stroke his arm. Touching his oh-so-familiar form trying to get him to look at you like he used to. “It’s still me, Brian. I just have this ability that I didn’t tell you about until now. But I haven’t changed. It’s still me.”
Your voice fades to a soft whisper and for the briefest second you feel his muscles under your fingers relax. And for that briefest second you think maybe, just maybe, he can calm down enough to believe you. To understand. To accept. You reach for him with your other hand, hoping to pull him against you in a soothing embrace.
But then his eyes begin to glow. Not with confusion or bewilderment. But repugnance. Disgust. A snarl forms on his lips and he rips his arm from you grasp.
“You’re nothing more than a …”
The words are bitten. Spit out around bared teeth. He stops himself, trembling, and glares.
Something inside you twists. Snaps.
“I’m what, Brian? Say it! Tell me what you really think of me! Now that you know the whole truth about Draco fucking Malfoy lets have it.” You open your arms to your side. Willing him to take his best shot. “What, you think I’m a freak? An aberration? Some grotesque monstrosity? Don’t you think I already fucking know that? Don’t you think I feel that every day that I’m here with you? I've been pretending to be like you when everyday I wake up and know that I'm not!”
“No, you’re worse than all that!.” He cuts you off, his voice booming as he rounds on you. His eyes still hold that hard glint of repugnance, but there is something new there too. Something perhaps you had missed before. Something that hurts even more than all the rest. It looks frighteningly like disappointment.
And in a much softer, but no less piercing voice, he declares, “You’re a liar, Draco.”
Just as you had, moments prior, been swept up by all consuming anger, your emotions give you whip lash, as they churn and swirl in a completely new direction. Filling you with nothing less than utter regret.
You sob softly. Your limbs go weak and you collapse back against the wall. Sliding down until you hit the floor, your legs splaying out in front of you.
“Don’t you think I know that too? Just one more thing to add to the long list of my life’s indiscretions. But I’m done with the lies, Brian. I’m done with keeping things from you. I’m done with pretending to be something I’m not. I’m done with all of that and only want to give you the truth.”
“But I don’t believe you.” He says quickly. But the words lack the finality of one who will never be convinced. He sits down carefully, resuming the same position he had when this whole fiasco started, on the corner of your bed. “How can I?” He mumbles, as he drops his head to his hands.
For several minutes the room is still. The air still tense from your raised voices and impassioned words.
In the quiet, you berate yourself for thinking you could deny being a wizard. For letting yourself fall so hard for Brian. For getting so close. And for thinking that love would be enough to save you. You blame Brian for being so perfect. For making you need him in your life with his strength and confidence. You curse your parents for having you. For giving you the gift of magic, while at the same time, burdening you with the Malfoy name. You curse Voldemort for starting the first war and Potter for living and causing the second. You damn Pittsburgh and snowstorms and warm bars and fate.
And all the while, Brian sits. Lost in a silent struggle with reality.
You do not know how many minutes later it happens, but finally, he stands. And you feel your throat tighten with a new wave of tears.
This is it. Now is the moment he leaves.
But instead he stands in front of you and puts out his hand. With a cautious look, you place your palm in his and he pulls you up onto two feet so you are standing chest to chest.
He takes a deep breath and begins. “If all of this business with you being a wizard and there being this parallel magical world is true, I want you to prove it.”
“But I have already.” You say pathetically. “The newspaper and the spells….”
“No, you don’t understand what I’m saying. Prove it, Draco. Make it so I have no choice but to believe you.”
Your brain slowly begins to understand.
"You want me to..."
"Do whatever it takes. Whatever you have to do." He nods gently, as if answering some voice in his head that asked if he was really sure. He presses his lips together. "I want to believe you."
A final tear trickles warmly down your face. Leaving in its wake the faintest glimmer of hope.
You look at him. His expression determined and strong. And you can think of only one thing that will prove your magical ability. Only one thing that will confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Only one way that Brian could truly be convinced. And that would be seeing it with his own eyes.
Your thumb works around the heavy ring on your finger, instantly drawn to that bit of magic, righting it so the stone rests on the top of your hand. You slip your arm around his waist, pulling his body close to yours. Redouble the grip on your wand. Steady your stance.
“Whatever you do, don't let go.” You say gravely. He swallows and nods, encircling his arms around you, clenching his fingers in the fabric of your tee-shirt. Understanding your orders if not understanding what is about to happen.
And in that split second before you activate the portkey on your ring that will take you back to the Manor, the long forgotten sensation of being yanked by your navel overwhelming you, your thoughts are not consumed by the idea of finally returning home or seeing your mother or of the danger that you might be thrusting Brian into. But instead, you can think of nothing but the perfect feeling of having Brian's arms so tightly wrapped about you. And the relief that feeling brings.