Drabble the seventh
The 7th drabble- D/G and relatively fluffy. Consider this my attempt to get inside Draco's head- and explaining how I could possibly see D/G happening in canon.
Rated PG-13.
For my very dear jacyevans- *hugs* Good luck with finals, dear!!
Prompt: D/G, “I can’t go back, I can’t imagine Starting all over again.”
How It Happened
It wasn’t supposed to happen.
He started it because he was bored, locked away in Hogwarts for his own protection after he’d defected from the Death Eaters. He wasn’t a student because he hadn’t wanted to be, had refused Professor McGonagall’s offer, saying he’d feel too uncomfortable when everyone knew why he was there. It didn’t help that he’d missed the first two months of class before he’d arrived.
It had started because he wanted something to amuse himself with and she was convenient to tease and torment, the “little Weaslette” as he called her at first.
Little Weaslette-it started as a mocking insult but it became something of an endearment. His name for her-his little Weaslette.
And he wasn’t quite sure how it happened. If anyone had told him a few months ago that she would come to mean so much to him, he would have sneered and told them coldly that they were absolutely barking mad. Now… Now he didn’t know how to explain it but he knew it was true.
Oh he’d noticed her prettiness long ago; it was hard to miss with her fiery red hair once she’d grown up and become more than a shadow. But this was more than just about her prettiness-it was about how he felt when he was with her, how he felt when he saw her, how he found he could talk to her as he’d never talked to anyone.
After all, maybe it was because she, alone of all the students at Hogwarts, didn’t avoid him or treat him like he was the Dark Lord incarnate. She didn’t seek him out-not at first-but she didn’t turn and run in the opposite direction when she saw him coming either, or worse, act as if he were invisible.
He was used to feeling negative things when he was with people. With his father, he’d felt like a pawn. With the Dark Lord, he’d felt worse, like a worthless toy. With his mother, he felt like a baby or some fragile artifact (it made him feel weak and helpless and he detested that feeling). With Dumbledore and most other professors, he’d felt like a convicted criminal. Whenever he was around that disgustingly self-righteous Potter and his two followers, Weasley and Granger, he’d felt both envious (for the obvious loyalty between the three of them) and like a reject. When he’d been with Crabbe, Goyle and other Slytherins, he’d only felt disdain for them.
He was used to all those feelings. Now, when he was with her, he felt like a person. She didn’t treat him like a villain or follow him slavishly as Crabbe and Goyle had. She argued with him-and sometimes agreed with him-like an equal, a- friend, odd as the word was in reference to her at first.
When he kissed her for the first time, it was more of a test of her reaction than anything else. She’d stiffened at first and drawn back-as he’d expected-but then she’d kissed him back. She’d kissed him back and he’d gotten a taste of the passion in her, as fiery as the color of her hair, and he’d found that he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to stop kissing her or touching her; he never wanted to stop, never wanted to let her go.
She’d been the one to end it by pulling herself away and stared at him with wide eyes before she’d run as if she couldn’t bear to look at him and be reminded of what she’d done. She’d avoided him diligently for more than a week after that and he’d given up-and then been furious with himself for caring so much that it was over, been furious for feeling so disappointed that their little talks would have to end. Because he found he did care, more than he even admitted to himself, to think that she would avoid him after this...
But then she’d come to find him, her face flushed-and she’d been the one to take the initiative and kiss him then. And he knew he was lost.
That had really been the beginning and now he knew he couldn’t go back, never mind that he knew everyone would be horrified if and when they found out. He couldn’t imagine going back to a time before he knew her taste and her touch and her passion…
And he didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to return to the boy he was before, didn’t want to go back to feeling so cold and isolated from the rest of the world. He didn’t want to go back to not caring about another person more than himself.
He once asked her why she was with him and she said simply, with hardly a moment’s thought, “You treat me like an adult, not a baby.”
He hesitated, knowing the question would reveal more about his feelings than anything he’d yet said or done, but he needed to know. “Is this just about rebelling, about proving something?”
She pushed herself away from where she’d been leaning on his naked chest and glared at him. “Draco Malfoy! How could you think that I would do all that I’ve done with you only to make a point?”
Reassured-and it wasn’t until that very moment that he even realized just how nervous he really had been-and completely distracted (as he always was) by the sight of her bare skin, he allowed himself to smirk as his eyes lowered to wander over her body until she crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.
“Don’t even think about it, Malfoy, not until you explain what you just said.” Her calling him simply Malfoy was a sign of just how ticked off she was, given that she'd long since started calling him Draco when they were alone.
He met her eyes directly, all signs of amusement gone. He’d been leery of admitting to her just what this, what she, had come to mean to him but he knew he had to-and the flicker of hurt he could see in her eyes decided it for him. “I needed to be sure you wouldn’t regret this when people find out about us.” He paused and then added, very quietly, not quite meeting her eyes, “Because if you did regret this, I don’t know what I would do.”
There was a moment of silence and then she moved back to where she had been resting against him. “I won’t regret this; I’ll never regret this.”
He let out a breath. “Neither will I.”
And as he framed her face with his hands and brought her lips back to his to kiss her with all the pent-up emotion he couldn’t express in words, he knew that he’d never let her go again.
He couldn’t explain it, how he ended up with Ginny Weasley, but somehow it had happened-and he knew he could never go back and, more, he didn’t want to. This was for good.
Rated PG-13.
For my very dear jacyevans- *hugs* Good luck with finals, dear!!
Prompt: D/G, “I can’t go back, I can’t imagine Starting all over again.”
How It Happened
It wasn’t supposed to happen.
He started it because he was bored, locked away in Hogwarts for his own protection after he’d defected from the Death Eaters. He wasn’t a student because he hadn’t wanted to be, had refused Professor McGonagall’s offer, saying he’d feel too uncomfortable when everyone knew why he was there. It didn’t help that he’d missed the first two months of class before he’d arrived.
It had started because he wanted something to amuse himself with and she was convenient to tease and torment, the “little Weaslette” as he called her at first.
Little Weaslette-it started as a mocking insult but it became something of an endearment. His name for her-his little Weaslette.
And he wasn’t quite sure how it happened. If anyone had told him a few months ago that she would come to mean so much to him, he would have sneered and told them coldly that they were absolutely barking mad. Now… Now he didn’t know how to explain it but he knew it was true.
Oh he’d noticed her prettiness long ago; it was hard to miss with her fiery red hair once she’d grown up and become more than a shadow. But this was more than just about her prettiness-it was about how he felt when he was with her, how he felt when he saw her, how he found he could talk to her as he’d never talked to anyone.
After all, maybe it was because she, alone of all the students at Hogwarts, didn’t avoid him or treat him like he was the Dark Lord incarnate. She didn’t seek him out-not at first-but she didn’t turn and run in the opposite direction when she saw him coming either, or worse, act as if he were invisible.
He was used to feeling negative things when he was with people. With his father, he’d felt like a pawn. With the Dark Lord, he’d felt worse, like a worthless toy. With his mother, he felt like a baby or some fragile artifact (it made him feel weak and helpless and he detested that feeling). With Dumbledore and most other professors, he’d felt like a convicted criminal. Whenever he was around that disgustingly self-righteous Potter and his two followers, Weasley and Granger, he’d felt both envious (for the obvious loyalty between the three of them) and like a reject. When he’d been with Crabbe, Goyle and other Slytherins, he’d only felt disdain for them.
He was used to all those feelings. Now, when he was with her, he felt like a person. She didn’t treat him like a villain or follow him slavishly as Crabbe and Goyle had. She argued with him-and sometimes agreed with him-like an equal, a- friend, odd as the word was in reference to her at first.
When he kissed her for the first time, it was more of a test of her reaction than anything else. She’d stiffened at first and drawn back-as he’d expected-but then she’d kissed him back. She’d kissed him back and he’d gotten a taste of the passion in her, as fiery as the color of her hair, and he’d found that he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to stop kissing her or touching her; he never wanted to stop, never wanted to let her go.
She’d been the one to end it by pulling herself away and stared at him with wide eyes before she’d run as if she couldn’t bear to look at him and be reminded of what she’d done. She’d avoided him diligently for more than a week after that and he’d given up-and then been furious with himself for caring so much that it was over, been furious for feeling so disappointed that their little talks would have to end. Because he found he did care, more than he even admitted to himself, to think that she would avoid him after this...
But then she’d come to find him, her face flushed-and she’d been the one to take the initiative and kiss him then. And he knew he was lost.
That had really been the beginning and now he knew he couldn’t go back, never mind that he knew everyone would be horrified if and when they found out. He couldn’t imagine going back to a time before he knew her taste and her touch and her passion…
And he didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to return to the boy he was before, didn’t want to go back to feeling so cold and isolated from the rest of the world. He didn’t want to go back to not caring about another person more than himself.
He once asked her why she was with him and she said simply, with hardly a moment’s thought, “You treat me like an adult, not a baby.”
He hesitated, knowing the question would reveal more about his feelings than anything he’d yet said or done, but he needed to know. “Is this just about rebelling, about proving something?”
She pushed herself away from where she’d been leaning on his naked chest and glared at him. “Draco Malfoy! How could you think that I would do all that I’ve done with you only to make a point?”
Reassured-and it wasn’t until that very moment that he even realized just how nervous he really had been-and completely distracted (as he always was) by the sight of her bare skin, he allowed himself to smirk as his eyes lowered to wander over her body until she crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.
“Don’t even think about it, Malfoy, not until you explain what you just said.” Her calling him simply Malfoy was a sign of just how ticked off she was, given that she'd long since started calling him Draco when they were alone.
He met her eyes directly, all signs of amusement gone. He’d been leery of admitting to her just what this, what she, had come to mean to him but he knew he had to-and the flicker of hurt he could see in her eyes decided it for him. “I needed to be sure you wouldn’t regret this when people find out about us.” He paused and then added, very quietly, not quite meeting her eyes, “Because if you did regret this, I don’t know what I would do.”
There was a moment of silence and then she moved back to where she had been resting against him. “I won’t regret this; I’ll never regret this.”
He let out a breath. “Neither will I.”
And as he framed her face with his hands and brought her lips back to his to kiss her with all the pent-up emotion he couldn’t express in words, he knew that he’d never let her go again.
He couldn’t explain it, how he ended up with Ginny Weasley, but somehow it had happened-and he knew he could never go back and, more, he didn’t want to. This was for good.