A Corrupted Kind of Innocence (Blood/Fire, PG)
Title: A Corrupted Kind of Innocence
Author: hecticity
Rating: PG for implied!sex
Pairing: Draco/Morag (Blood/Fire)
Song: Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah
Word count: 1253
Summary: Neither Draco nor Morag are anywhere close to being innocent, and yet there are some corruptions that even the corrupt cannot stand to impose upon their loved ones.
Warnings: implied sex (with bondage), song fic, UST, fluff
Author's note: I had to write this, after I cried so hard I puked over dark_adrenalynn's The Heart of Your Sins. So, I give you...FLUFF!
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall, the major lift,
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Morag scoffed at Draco's first attempts at courtship. A bunch of gorgeous, long-stemmed roses, held out to her as he stood hopefully on her doorstep-- as if he didn't know that she wasn't the sort of girl to fall for that.
She laughed in his face and shut the door, leaving him somewhat bewildered but more determined than ever to get her attention.
Maybe if she'd actually bothered to take the roses, she'd have realised that they weren't the tame kind, stripped of their thorns. The sharp points dug into Draco's fingers as he walked away, clung to his skin as he discarded them by the side of the road, and he clenched his fist to make the small gashes bleed before raising his hand to his face.
The thing was, Draco wasn't really the sort of boy to court someone that way, either.
The second and third times, he showed up empty handed, and often with a distinct lack of certain-- less obvious-- articles of clothing. It should have been readily apparent from his smirk, but for all her derisive words about the idiotic Ministry pawns "only seeing what they want to see", Morag seemed unable to get past the idea of him as a proper, gentlemanly suitor.
It was obvious that if he was going to succeed, he would have to take far more drastic measures.
Your faith was strong, but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof,
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair,
She broke your throne,
She cut your hair,
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
"Not quite the ladies man you were in school, are you?" Morag cooed, tilting his chin up to look at her. "Not what I expected, anyway...but this is quite interesting..."
Draco didn't even bother to hide his smirk, not to mention the bulge in his trousers. "You saw what you wanted to see," he informed her, voice husky as she dragged him into the house by the handcuffs on his wrists.
Morag laughed at that, and gestured vaguely at the small, one-room flat. "I'm sure this isn't what you're used to, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, eyes glinting with something more than amusement. "I hope you don't mind having sex in the kitchen."
"Do I have a choice?" Draco asked, lips twitching, and earned himself a hard shove against one of the chairs for his cheek.
After that, there was no more need for words-- except for the ones that insisted on spilling over bruised lips on turbulent breath, and those would have made any innocent bystander cringe with their profanity.
Maybe I have been here before,
I know this room; I have walked this floor,
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
Love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and its a broken Hallelujah
"If you want something from me, you might want to ask for it now," Morag panted, hanging limply over the arm of the couch as Draco draped himself over her back. She could feel him stiffen, but knowing she'd uncovered his motives didn't make her feel better the way she'd thought it would.
"What makes you think I want more than a shag?" Draco asked breathlessly, but he sounded uncertain and fake even to his own ears. It was painful, the way she couldn't decide if the question made her feel better or worse.
"Draco," Morag said as gently as she could, "You've been living here for nearly a month now. If you just wanted a shag..." you'd be gone by now, her mind finished traitorously, filling the silence. You'd have had far more than your fill. Why do you keep coming back?
It was a long moment before Draco moved, leaving a draft of cold air in his wake.
"I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't betray you like that. I tried."
Morag turned around, intending to ask what he meant, but he was already gone.
There was a time you let me know
Whats really going on below,
But now you never show it to me, do you?
Remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too,
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
It was Morag's turn to follow him now, using every instinct honed from following her marks, and it occurred to her that it had been a very long time since she had followed anyone like this without intending them harm.
She justified it by telling herself that she needed to know what sort of betrayal he'd had in mind, by reminding herself that it had now been a week since she'd had a good shag, and Draco Malfoy was a better shag than most. It was certainly not because she missed him, or because she wanted to discover why he looked so unhappy-- well, she did, but not because she wanted to fix it. Simple curiosity, that was all, and self-preservation.
And then, one day, he had disappeared entirely, as if off the face of the earth. Dead, the rumours said, but Morag didn't believe them-- couldn't believe them. He wasn't stupid enough to let himself get killed like that, and she didn't think he was sad enough to...
She didn't even let herself think about that.
Maybe there's a God above,
and all I ever learned from love
was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And its not a cry you can hear at night,
its not somebody who's seen the light,
its a cold and its a broken Hallelujah
Just as Morag was beginning to surrender to the doubt, maybe starting to believe, just a little, that he could be gone...that was when he showed up on her doorstep, again.
"Impeccable timing, you've got," she said dryly, though she was fairly sure that all the emotion lacking in her voice had pooled in her eyes. Draco's smile was full of warmth and relief, and it thawed something inside of her that she hadn't even known was frozen.
"Do I?" he asked lightly, taking a hesitant step through the door. "I was worried that I might be too late."
Morag crossed her arms even as she moved aside to let him in, feigning annoyance. "I suppose that depends. Are you going to tell me the truth, this time?"
In answer, Draco grabbed hold of her forearm and held it alongside his own, looking pointedly at the dark tattoo interrupting his otherwise flawless skin.
"You were supposed to wear one of these by now," he began, and then stopped, looking at her intently. "Maybe...maybe it's foolish, with your lifestyle...but I couldn't corrupt you like that."
Morag was trembling under his gaze, from the purity in his touch, and she understood completely.
"There are far more fun ways to corrupt me," she whispered, and Draco's laugh sounded like heaven.
"I intend to try all of them," he promised, and when she was back in his arms, it felt as though she'd never left.
Author: hecticity
Rating: PG for implied!sex
Pairing: Draco/Morag (Blood/Fire)
Song: Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah
Word count: 1253
Summary: Neither Draco nor Morag are anywhere close to being innocent, and yet there are some corruptions that even the corrupt cannot stand to impose upon their loved ones.
Warnings: implied sex (with bondage), song fic, UST, fluff
Author's note: I had to write this, after I cried so hard I puked over dark_adrenalynn's The Heart of Your Sins. So, I give you...FLUFF!
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall, the major lift,
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Morag scoffed at Draco's first attempts at courtship. A bunch of gorgeous, long-stemmed roses, held out to her as he stood hopefully on her doorstep-- as if he didn't know that she wasn't the sort of girl to fall for that.
She laughed in his face and shut the door, leaving him somewhat bewildered but more determined than ever to get her attention.
Maybe if she'd actually bothered to take the roses, she'd have realised that they weren't the tame kind, stripped of their thorns. The sharp points dug into Draco's fingers as he walked away, clung to his skin as he discarded them by the side of the road, and he clenched his fist to make the small gashes bleed before raising his hand to his face.
The thing was, Draco wasn't really the sort of boy to court someone that way, either.
The second and third times, he showed up empty handed, and often with a distinct lack of certain-- less obvious-- articles of clothing. It should have been readily apparent from his smirk, but for all her derisive words about the idiotic Ministry pawns "only seeing what they want to see", Morag seemed unable to get past the idea of him as a proper, gentlemanly suitor.
It was obvious that if he was going to succeed, he would have to take far more drastic measures.
Your faith was strong, but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof,
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair,
She broke your throne,
She cut your hair,
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
"Not quite the ladies man you were in school, are you?" Morag cooed, tilting his chin up to look at her. "Not what I expected, anyway...but this is quite interesting..."
Draco didn't even bother to hide his smirk, not to mention the bulge in his trousers. "You saw what you wanted to see," he informed her, voice husky as she dragged him into the house by the handcuffs on his wrists.
Morag laughed at that, and gestured vaguely at the small, one-room flat. "I'm sure this isn't what you're used to, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, eyes glinting with something more than amusement. "I hope you don't mind having sex in the kitchen."
"Do I have a choice?" Draco asked, lips twitching, and earned himself a hard shove against one of the chairs for his cheek.
After that, there was no more need for words-- except for the ones that insisted on spilling over bruised lips on turbulent breath, and those would have made any innocent bystander cringe with their profanity.
Maybe I have been here before,
I know this room; I have walked this floor,
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
Love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and its a broken Hallelujah
"If you want something from me, you might want to ask for it now," Morag panted, hanging limply over the arm of the couch as Draco draped himself over her back. She could feel him stiffen, but knowing she'd uncovered his motives didn't make her feel better the way she'd thought it would.
"What makes you think I want more than a shag?" Draco asked breathlessly, but he sounded uncertain and fake even to his own ears. It was painful, the way she couldn't decide if the question made her feel better or worse.
"Draco," Morag said as gently as she could, "You've been living here for nearly a month now. If you just wanted a shag..." you'd be gone by now, her mind finished traitorously, filling the silence. You'd have had far more than your fill. Why do you keep coming back?
It was a long moment before Draco moved, leaving a draft of cold air in his wake.
"I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't betray you like that. I tried."
Morag turned around, intending to ask what he meant, but he was already gone.
There was a time you let me know
Whats really going on below,
But now you never show it to me, do you?
Remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too,
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
It was Morag's turn to follow him now, using every instinct honed from following her marks, and it occurred to her that it had been a very long time since she had followed anyone like this without intending them harm.
She justified it by telling herself that she needed to know what sort of betrayal he'd had in mind, by reminding herself that it had now been a week since she'd had a good shag, and Draco Malfoy was a better shag than most. It was certainly not because she missed him, or because she wanted to discover why he looked so unhappy-- well, she did, but not because she wanted to fix it. Simple curiosity, that was all, and self-preservation.
And then, one day, he had disappeared entirely, as if off the face of the earth. Dead, the rumours said, but Morag didn't believe them-- couldn't believe them. He wasn't stupid enough to let himself get killed like that, and she didn't think he was sad enough to...
She didn't even let herself think about that.
Maybe there's a God above,
and all I ever learned from love
was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And its not a cry you can hear at night,
its not somebody who's seen the light,
its a cold and its a broken Hallelujah
Just as Morag was beginning to surrender to the doubt, maybe starting to believe, just a little, that he could be gone...that was when he showed up on her doorstep, again.
"Impeccable timing, you've got," she said dryly, though she was fairly sure that all the emotion lacking in her voice had pooled in her eyes. Draco's smile was full of warmth and relief, and it thawed something inside of her that she hadn't even known was frozen.
"Do I?" he asked lightly, taking a hesitant step through the door. "I was worried that I might be too late."
Morag crossed her arms even as she moved aside to let him in, feigning annoyance. "I suppose that depends. Are you going to tell me the truth, this time?"
In answer, Draco grabbed hold of her forearm and held it alongside his own, looking pointedly at the dark tattoo interrupting his otherwise flawless skin.
"You were supposed to wear one of these by now," he began, and then stopped, looking at her intently. "Maybe...maybe it's foolish, with your lifestyle...but I couldn't corrupt you like that."
Morag was trembling under his gaze, from the purity in his touch, and she understood completely.
"There are far more fun ways to corrupt me," she whispered, and Draco's laugh sounded like heaven.
"I intend to try all of them," he promised, and when she was back in his arms, it felt as though she'd never left.