(no subject)
Title; Promises
Rating; PG-13
Pairing; Ron/Draco
Prompt; 043. Footsteps
Prompt set; 50.3
Word Count; 1447
Summary; '“I promise I’ll come back,” I hear him whisper as the door closed.'
Warnings; None
Disclaimer; This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N; This is written for my 100quills prompt of Ron/Draco.
Promises
by; Mack
“Please don’t go, please,” I whisper tears running down my face as he stands between me and the door. “I can’t lose you as well.”
“You’re not going to lose me, I promise,” he whispers unable to meet my eyes.
“You’re going to die, they’re all going to die, please don’t go, they can fight without you,” I plead a few seconds away from getting onto my knees.
“I can’t I have to go. My best friend is at the center of this fucking war, I cannot back out now,” he whispers blue eyes staring at me, trying to get me to understand.
“I don’t give a fuck about him! I just want you safe, home with me,” I plead taking a step forward.
“My place is with him, in this war,” he says softly.
“Your place is with me, at home,” I reply in a yell, furious that he was choosing someone over me, over us.
“Draco, I,” he starts taking a few steps closer. “I’ll come home I-.”
“Don’t, do not promise me that, everyone who promises me anything always breaks their promises,” I cut him off with an angry gesture the tears flying from my face to land on the floor.
I see him, standing silent and still, his blue eyes staring at me with sorrow, his shoulders hunched slightly, towards me and I feel myself break down and slowly collapse to the ground. I see his feet as he takes a step forward and I shake my head.
“Go, just go,” I said my voice harsh with the unshed tears and I can see him hesitate before he is gone, leaving me alone in the house only we know of.
“I promise I’ll come back,” I hear him whisper as the door closed.
I dragged myself to my feet staring at the closed door feeling my heart break in two. I am afraid. Afraid that the war is going to take him like it took Pansy, my parents and so many of the others I grew up and loved. I stare at the door before I drag myself to our bed, collapsing on it feeling the warmth from only an hour ago, when everything was still happy.
I grab his pillow, wrapping myself around it, burying my face in it and inhaling as the smell of wood smoke assaulted my senses, calming me down and releasing the flood of tears as they soaked the pillow in front of me.
I could hear the birds outside, and the children playing in the park next to our house and I felt my throat constrict as I wondered if he was going to come back, if I was ever going to see him again. No one knew about us, it was safer for me like that, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be with him, on the battlefield making sure he was ok, but he had made me stay here, away from him and I was scared.
A day passed before I moved to turn on the radio hearing the silence as is filled the house with its crackling static. The entire world waited on a bated breath for the sound of victory, or the sound of defeat. A song came on, the melody sad and haunting, lingering with you even after it finished.
It was midnight, and I hadn’t gone to sleep when I heard the radio roar to life with the sounds of celebration and then I heard it. I hear the victory announcement, you and Harry had done it, and you had won. I smiled and waited for the front door to open, and for him to come up here and kiss me.
But nothing came; I lay there, all night waiting for the sounds of his footsteps - but they never came. The house was silent except for the sounds of my breathing.
Morning came and light streamed into the room and I finally moved my eyes from the wall I had been staring at as I looked to the door, wishing I could see him. Wishing that he would walk into the room and all would be fine, he would still love me, and we could get married.
The day passed and still nothing came. Another night, and another day and I began to lose hope. I hung onto the fear that he was injured and that he was just recovering, trying to get back to me, and soon it began to be my only hope as the days passed and still nothing.
I was a mess, a gibbering mess - no sleeping, barely eating, moving from my vigil staring at the door long enough to go to the bathroom. I fought the urge to turn to alcohol, knowing that I had to be sober, when he came home; I had to be able to greet him without alcohol on my breath.
A week passed and I am pale, my skin mottled and dark rings around my eyes, I haven’t slept since he was gone. I kept the radio on for the first three days, but it was still celebrating, playing happy music, joyous music and I couldn’t handle it, so I turned it off.
The first day of the new week dawned and I hear a voice and footsteps before the door opens and I am greeted with the sight of red hair and for a moment my heart lifts but then is see the face, it is not his face. It was his sister and I collapse to the ground, tears streaming down my face as she looked at me surprised and I broke down, unable to bear the idea that he was dead.
I hear another voice and I watch through fuzzy eyes as Granger walked in before turning around and saying something. I close my eyes wondering if they’re going to take me away and I hear more voices, but I don’t hear his and I hear more footsteps, and his voice is still silent.
I hear someone coming closer and closer and I wrap my arms around myself eyes closed as I dare not to look, I don’t want to see them staring at me with pity or hate. Either would be the wrong look, neither of them would be him.
I hear footsteps right by me and people talking, but I still don’t hear his voice. I feel arms wrapping around me, and they feel familiar and I dare to open my eyes and I see him looking at me worried and I blinked, my breath hitching as I dared not to believe. I stare at him, wondering why he hadn’t spoken anything and I reach out to touch his face gently, wondering if he was real or if I had crack, I had gone crazy.
I felt his skin under my fingers, the five o’clock shadow and I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster before I wrapped my arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.
“You’re home, you’re home. Don’t leave, please don’t leave. I love you, oh god I love you,” I say over and over again, hardly daring to believe that he is still in my arms. He remains silent as I sob into my shoulder. He just holds me rubbing my back gently.
I don’t care if his friends are there as I wipe eyes on his shirt and I pull back running my hands over his face, looking for damage and I see him looking at me sadly before he drops his head.
“What?” I asked softly moving his head so he can look at me. He meets my eyes for a moment before looking away. “What is it?” I asked my voice going higher with worry.
“He can’t speak,” I heard Granger say silent and I look at her wide eyed.
“What?” I asked my voice cracking.
“He can’t speak, he got hit by a curse, and lost his voice,” Ginny said softly. “He’s never going to speak again.”
I gasp, unable to hold the sound in as thoughts of never hearing him whisper to be in the morning, never tell me that it’s ok. And then I realize, I don’t care and I wrap arms around him again resting my forehead on his shoulder. “I don’t care, we’ll manage, I have you, you kept your promise,” I whisper so only he could hear.
I feel arms tighten around him in happiness and I feel him take my hand and place it over his heart and I look up at him and he is smiling and I kiss him, knowing it’s going to be ok.
Rating; PG-13
Pairing; Ron/Draco
Prompt; 043. Footsteps
Prompt set; 50.3
Word Count; 1447
Summary; '“I promise I’ll come back,” I hear him whisper as the door closed.'
Warnings; None
Disclaimer; This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N; This is written for my 100quills prompt of Ron/Draco.
Promises
by; Mack
“Please don’t go, please,” I whisper tears running down my face as he stands between me and the door. “I can’t lose you as well.”
“You’re not going to lose me, I promise,” he whispers unable to meet my eyes.
“You’re going to die, they’re all going to die, please don’t go, they can fight without you,” I plead a few seconds away from getting onto my knees.
“I can’t I have to go. My best friend is at the center of this fucking war, I cannot back out now,” he whispers blue eyes staring at me, trying to get me to understand.
“I don’t give a fuck about him! I just want you safe, home with me,” I plead taking a step forward.
“My place is with him, in this war,” he says softly.
“Your place is with me, at home,” I reply in a yell, furious that he was choosing someone over me, over us.
“Draco, I,” he starts taking a few steps closer. “I’ll come home I-.”
“Don’t, do not promise me that, everyone who promises me anything always breaks their promises,” I cut him off with an angry gesture the tears flying from my face to land on the floor.
I see him, standing silent and still, his blue eyes staring at me with sorrow, his shoulders hunched slightly, towards me and I feel myself break down and slowly collapse to the ground. I see his feet as he takes a step forward and I shake my head.
“Go, just go,” I said my voice harsh with the unshed tears and I can see him hesitate before he is gone, leaving me alone in the house only we know of.
“I promise I’ll come back,” I hear him whisper as the door closed.
I dragged myself to my feet staring at the closed door feeling my heart break in two. I am afraid. Afraid that the war is going to take him like it took Pansy, my parents and so many of the others I grew up and loved. I stare at the door before I drag myself to our bed, collapsing on it feeling the warmth from only an hour ago, when everything was still happy.
I grab his pillow, wrapping myself around it, burying my face in it and inhaling as the smell of wood smoke assaulted my senses, calming me down and releasing the flood of tears as they soaked the pillow in front of me.
I could hear the birds outside, and the children playing in the park next to our house and I felt my throat constrict as I wondered if he was going to come back, if I was ever going to see him again. No one knew about us, it was safer for me like that, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be with him, on the battlefield making sure he was ok, but he had made me stay here, away from him and I was scared.
A day passed before I moved to turn on the radio hearing the silence as is filled the house with its crackling static. The entire world waited on a bated breath for the sound of victory, or the sound of defeat. A song came on, the melody sad and haunting, lingering with you even after it finished.
It was midnight, and I hadn’t gone to sleep when I heard the radio roar to life with the sounds of celebration and then I heard it. I hear the victory announcement, you and Harry had done it, and you had won. I smiled and waited for the front door to open, and for him to come up here and kiss me.
But nothing came; I lay there, all night waiting for the sounds of his footsteps - but they never came. The house was silent except for the sounds of my breathing.
Morning came and light streamed into the room and I finally moved my eyes from the wall I had been staring at as I looked to the door, wishing I could see him. Wishing that he would walk into the room and all would be fine, he would still love me, and we could get married.
The day passed and still nothing came. Another night, and another day and I began to lose hope. I hung onto the fear that he was injured and that he was just recovering, trying to get back to me, and soon it began to be my only hope as the days passed and still nothing.
I was a mess, a gibbering mess - no sleeping, barely eating, moving from my vigil staring at the door long enough to go to the bathroom. I fought the urge to turn to alcohol, knowing that I had to be sober, when he came home; I had to be able to greet him without alcohol on my breath.
A week passed and I am pale, my skin mottled and dark rings around my eyes, I haven’t slept since he was gone. I kept the radio on for the first three days, but it was still celebrating, playing happy music, joyous music and I couldn’t handle it, so I turned it off.
The first day of the new week dawned and I hear a voice and footsteps before the door opens and I am greeted with the sight of red hair and for a moment my heart lifts but then is see the face, it is not his face. It was his sister and I collapse to the ground, tears streaming down my face as she looked at me surprised and I broke down, unable to bear the idea that he was dead.
I hear another voice and I watch through fuzzy eyes as Granger walked in before turning around and saying something. I close my eyes wondering if they’re going to take me away and I hear more voices, but I don’t hear his and I hear more footsteps, and his voice is still silent.
I hear someone coming closer and closer and I wrap my arms around myself eyes closed as I dare not to look, I don’t want to see them staring at me with pity or hate. Either would be the wrong look, neither of them would be him.
I hear footsteps right by me and people talking, but I still don’t hear his voice. I feel arms wrapping around me, and they feel familiar and I dare to open my eyes and I see him looking at me worried and I blinked, my breath hitching as I dared not to believe. I stare at him, wondering why he hadn’t spoken anything and I reach out to touch his face gently, wondering if he was real or if I had crack, I had gone crazy.
I felt his skin under my fingers, the five o’clock shadow and I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster before I wrapped my arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.
“You’re home, you’re home. Don’t leave, please don’t leave. I love you, oh god I love you,” I say over and over again, hardly daring to believe that he is still in my arms. He remains silent as I sob into my shoulder. He just holds me rubbing my back gently.
I don’t care if his friends are there as I wipe eyes on his shirt and I pull back running my hands over his face, looking for damage and I see him looking at me sadly before he drops his head.
“What?” I asked softly moving his head so he can look at me. He meets my eyes for a moment before looking away. “What is it?” I asked my voice going higher with worry.
“He can’t speak,” I heard Granger say silent and I look at her wide eyed.
“What?” I asked my voice cracking.
“He can’t speak, he got hit by a curse, and lost his voice,” Ginny said softly. “He’s never going to speak again.”
I gasp, unable to hold the sound in as thoughts of never hearing him whisper to be in the morning, never tell me that it’s ok. And then I realize, I don’t care and I wrap arms around him again resting my forehead on his shoulder. “I don’t care, we’ll manage, I have you, you kept your promise,” I whisper so only he could hear.
I feel arms tighten around him in happiness and I feel him take my hand and place it over his heart and I look up at him and he is smiling and I kiss him, knowing it’s going to be ok.