Walk of Shame (7/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (7/?)
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: R
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 7
Summary: Things take a dark turn at the Yule Ball
Warning: Slight angst
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Um...so, this got a bit dark. I don't really know how this happened but I hope to fluff it up again. I plead creative expression, I guess? *pokes muse*. Part 7 of the Walk of Shame Series.
The weekend rolled around with an invitation.
“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
Draco- who had been napping comfortably on his sofa up to this point- raised his head to glower at Potter for daring to disturb him. Potter smiled fondly and went back to frying sausages, while Adelaide paced the length of the kitchen with one covetous eye on the stove.
Oh yes, about that…
Potter was making him breakfast.
Draco would like it on record that he had most definitely not asked Potter to come over and cook for him. He had only sent an owl earlier that morning, reminding him to check out the latest issue of Brewers’ Weekly. They had just published an exclusive on hallucinogenic draughts, and it would make a world of difference to their research project. And if he happened to mention that he had nothing on his agenda today, then that was just making polite conversation.
As usual, Potter had been presumptuous and taken matters into his own hands.
Once he’d installed himself in the kitchen and the delicious scent of frying sausages filled the air, Draco had seen no reason to stop him.
“Oi, pay attention!”
Draco started as a small tomato bounced off his head. Adelaide skittered over and pounced on it, batting it between her paws.
“What?” he snapped at the insufferable tomato tosser who’d taken over his life. Not to mention, his kitchen.
“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” Potter repeated patiently. He plated up the sausages and started on the eggs.
Draco yawned and stretched languidly. “Are we still at Hogwarts?” he asked. “I could have sworn I graduated.”
Potter shook his head. “Sometimes, I swear you’re being obtuse on purpose. You know perfectly well that I’m talking about the Ministry’s Annual Yule Ball.”
Oh. That awful thing.
“Do I have to?” Draco whined, knowing perfectly well that he did. As, the only employee and sole representative from the Archives, his attendance was mandatory. Every year, he was forced to show up at that blighted affair, skulk awkwardly in the corner, and make agonising small talk with people he would likely only see next year at the same blighted affair before making his escape.
Potter, at least, looked sympathetic. He ruffled Draco’s hair and passed him a plate. “I have to go too,” he said. “We might as well go together.”
Draco mulled over that and took a bite of the scrambled eggs. Merlin, they were delicious. “I suppose,” he conceded finally. “But won’t people talk?”
“About?”
“About…you know.” Draco trailed off uncomfortably. Now that it had come up, he couldn’t ignore it. The Yule Ball was a huge event, everyone would be there. If he showed up with Potter, he would be seen. Noticed. Everyone would assume that they were dating.
That…surely, that wasn’t a good thing. Right?
“So, that’s a no?”
Draco jerked out of his mental spiral. Potter was still smiling at him, but there was a lingering disappointment in his expression.
Draco felt uncharacteristically guilty.
“It’s just…what will your friends say?” he asked hesitantly. He couldn’t imagine Granger taking this well. As for Weasley…hell, he didn’t even want to think about his reaction.
Potter seemed unconcerned. “I’m a big boy, Draco,” he said firmly. “My friends, my problem. The question is, do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
That was a good question. He didn’t…not want to go. Was that the same as wanting to? He had a feeling he wouldn’t know until he tried. And Draco hated not knowing things…
It was just one evening. And what did he care what a bunch of busy bodies at the Ministry thought? It’s not like he spoke to them anyway.
“I suppose so,” he offered finally, grudgingly. “We don’t have to stay long, do we?”
He chanced a look up at Potter. He was smiling now- a real smile, wide and bright. Draco looked away, ignoring the small seed of warmth unfurling inside him at the sight. Why did Potter have to smile so much anyway?
All of a sudden, he felt a need to change the subject.
“Seriously, what did you put in these eggs? Is this coconut milk?”
Potter just chuckled and piled more eggs in his plate. And Draco smiled back, absently wondering when he’d last had a morning this pleasant.
****
Later that evening:
“What is the point of hosting a ‘Yule Ball’ in the first bloody week of December?” Draco grumbled as he followed Potter to the ballroom in the Ministry’s West Wing. “They’re not fooling anyone. I know it’s not Christmas yet.”
“Please don’t ask me to explain how Human Resources works,” Potter replied, nudging him playfully. “We’ll be here all night.”
Draco laughed, despite himself. For the first time ever, he was actually looking forward to this wretched affair.
“I’ll bet you five galleons Weasley makes a scene and Granger has to drag him out by his ear,” he declared.
Potter’s bark of laughter echoed down the hall. “Hush,” he scolded lightly. “We’re here.”
Draco fell silent and entered the ballroom alongside Potter. As usual, the Ministry had gone overboard with the decorations. The effect was cheerful, if a little gaudy. Still, Draco could appreciate the bright lights and the festive tree holding court in the centre of the room. The guests milled about, dressed to the nines. There were more than a few well-tailored dress robes in the mix, and yet…Draco’s eyes kept straying back to Potter.
There was something about him. He stood out, even in a crowd of dozens. Even though he was dressed in elegant, formal robes, Potter looked like he could head out to battle any second. He looked dangerous, capable and handsome as hell. And clearly everyone knew it. Draco had spotted more than one head turning and a few eyes widening when they made their entrance. He smirked to himself.
Perhaps being seen with Potter had its perks.
“Oi, Harry!”
The cheerful bellow rang out from the other end of the ballroom.
Draco pursed his lips as Weasley strode over, closely followed by a smiling Granger. Guided by instinct, he took one step back, sliding closer to Potter.
“Merlin, you made it!” Weasley exclaimed. “We were just about to…wait, is that Malfoy?”
Damn it.
Draco shuffled awkwardly as Granger and Weasley gawked at him. Potter gave him an encouraging smile, but it didn’t do much to reassure him. Granger was just watching him with unabashed curiosity now, while Weasley looked like he’d swallowed a Flobberworm.
“Weasley, Granger,” he greeted in monotone.
“Hello, Malfoy,” Granger offered cautiously. Her eyes flicked back to Potter and her silent question was plain as day. Potter just smiled and wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist.
It was a heartening gesture and Draco was strangely grateful for the support.
Shockingly, Weasley didn’t share the sentiment.
“Harry, what the hell?” he barked. He was turning red before Draco’s eyes, glaring at them both now. Draco cringed as a few heads turned in their direction.
“Ron.” Potter’s voice was clipped. He looked annoyed, but he had yet to let go of Draco. “Not now,” he said firmly.
“But…”
“I said, not now,” Potter repeated, in that same no-nonsense voice. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Granger mercifully, took the cue. “Ron, let’s get a drink,” she said, grabbing her boyfriend’s arm and starting to leading him away firmly. “I think they’re breaking out the good champagne.”
They left, Weasley still sputtering indignantly.
Draco heaved a sigh of relief. Merlin, that was awkward.
He started when Potter squeezed his shoulders gently. “Sorry about that,” he whispered. “Do you want to step outside for a minute?”
It was a good idea. A bit of fresh air could hardly hurt.
“Hang on,” Draco said suddenly. He snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Potter. “One for good luck?”
Potter grinned and accepted the glass, before leading him out.
****
They ended up on the balcony overlooking the gardens. Draco let the silence wash over him, admiring the world below bathed in a dim glow of the moonlight. The trees were frosted over, gleaming bright against the darkness. Two ravens perched on a wrought iron gate, calling out to each other. The moon hung full and bright in the sky, framing a cold and beautiful world.
It was amazing.
“Top off?”
Potter grinned and offered his champagne to Draco.
“Trying to get me drunk?” Draco taunted, accepting the glass. There was no rancour in his teasing this time. Just a warm comfort and a sense of satisfaction brought about by the buzz of alcohol and…
…and Potter, standing here with him.
“Can’t say I’m not tempted,” Potter replied softly. “But that’s not how I want this to go. Not this time.”
Draco flushed. He turned his gaze back to the gardens and took a swig of champagne. When he felt Potter’s arms wrap around his waist, he bit back a smile.
“Stop,” he murmured, trying to nudge him away. “Haven’t we given those vultures in there enough reason to gossip already?”
“Not nearly enough,” Potter retorted, trailing warm lips down his nape. “Merlin, you’re beautiful. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”
Draco’s breath caught. Potter had a knack for saying things like that- things that left him floundering for words. Sometimes…sometimes it was enough to make him believe that Potter wanted him. Times like this made him wonder if this was more than attraction and lust, if this was something…else.
But no, that thought was foolish. That sort of thing just didn’t happen. Not to him.
School rivals turned lovers. Draco nearly laughed. Merlin, talk about a fairy tale…
No, he was better off living in the real world. A world where things were exactly what they seemed. Where green was green and red was red and the two just didn’t mix. Ever.
He nudged his way out of Potter’s grip. He felt tired, all of a sudden. And sad too, although that was something he wouldn’t admit.
“We should be leaving soon,” he said quietly.
If Potter noticed the shift in his mood, he didn’t mention it. He pressed a chaste kiss to Draco’s cheek and let him go.
“Just give me a minute to talk to Ron, yeah?”
A warm hand traced his jaw and just for a second, Draco indulged himself and leaned into the touch. Then Potter was gone, walking away from him with quick, purposeful strides and heading back inside.
Draco turned back to the gardens. The snow was falling again, bathing the world in white. He wondered why it wasn’t colder. In fact, it was rather pleasant out here.
Warm, almost.
Too warm, actually. It was probably the champagne. But Merlin, was he parched. Draco took another swig, if only to dampen his dry throat.
The buzzing in his head was growing louder. A dull, droning hum was drowning out his thoughts. A knot was forming at the base of his skull, pounding like a steady drum.
Draco swallowed.
His mouth was dry. So dry.
His heart was beating faster. He could feel his pulse against his collar.
What…what was happening?
He staggered as he let go of the railing. The world spun around him, tilting violently from side to side. The glass fell from his limp fingers, but the buzzing was so loud he didn’t even hear it break.
Something was wrong. The dazed thought settled in his head and a dull panic set in. Something was very, very wrong with him.
He needed to go back inside.
Find help.
Find…Harry.
His knees buckled before he could take two steps. He fell face first and just about managed to brace himself against the wall before he collapsed. His breath was coming and sharp, harsh pants now. He could barely breathe, it was so hot. It was like he was burning up from the inside, like he was on fire…
Fire.
Flames danced at the edge of his vision. Draco’s breath caught in his throat. The world was a vivid orange now, bright and blinding. He could feel the tongues of fire reaching for him, singeing his flesh. He was choking on the acrid smoke.
Somewhere, he heard Crabbe’s howls through the dull roar of the flames. Crabbe was dying. Right in front of him.
It was happening again.
And this time he was going to die too.
He didn’t realise he’d been screaming until his voice gave out and his knees buckled. As he fell into blessed unconsciousness, he thought he saw green eyes seeking him out in the flames and a familiar voice screaming his name.
Part 8
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: R
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 7
Summary: Things take a dark turn at the Yule Ball
Warning: Slight angst
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Um...so, this got a bit dark. I don't really know how this happened but I hope to fluff it up again. I plead creative expression, I guess? *pokes muse*. Part 7 of the Walk of Shame Series.
The weekend rolled around with an invitation.
“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
Draco- who had been napping comfortably on his sofa up to this point- raised his head to glower at Potter for daring to disturb him. Potter smiled fondly and went back to frying sausages, while Adelaide paced the length of the kitchen with one covetous eye on the stove.
Oh yes, about that…
Potter was making him breakfast.
Draco would like it on record that he had most definitely not asked Potter to come over and cook for him. He had only sent an owl earlier that morning, reminding him to check out the latest issue of Brewers’ Weekly. They had just published an exclusive on hallucinogenic draughts, and it would make a world of difference to their research project. And if he happened to mention that he had nothing on his agenda today, then that was just making polite conversation.
As usual, Potter had been presumptuous and taken matters into his own hands.
Once he’d installed himself in the kitchen and the delicious scent of frying sausages filled the air, Draco had seen no reason to stop him.
“Oi, pay attention!”
Draco started as a small tomato bounced off his head. Adelaide skittered over and pounced on it, batting it between her paws.
“What?” he snapped at the insufferable tomato tosser who’d taken over his life. Not to mention, his kitchen.
“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” Potter repeated patiently. He plated up the sausages and started on the eggs.
Draco yawned and stretched languidly. “Are we still at Hogwarts?” he asked. “I could have sworn I graduated.”
Potter shook his head. “Sometimes, I swear you’re being obtuse on purpose. You know perfectly well that I’m talking about the Ministry’s Annual Yule Ball.”
Oh. That awful thing.
“Do I have to?” Draco whined, knowing perfectly well that he did. As, the only employee and sole representative from the Archives, his attendance was mandatory. Every year, he was forced to show up at that blighted affair, skulk awkwardly in the corner, and make agonising small talk with people he would likely only see next year at the same blighted affair before making his escape.
Potter, at least, looked sympathetic. He ruffled Draco’s hair and passed him a plate. “I have to go too,” he said. “We might as well go together.”
Draco mulled over that and took a bite of the scrambled eggs. Merlin, they were delicious. “I suppose,” he conceded finally. “But won’t people talk?”
“About?”
“About…you know.” Draco trailed off uncomfortably. Now that it had come up, he couldn’t ignore it. The Yule Ball was a huge event, everyone would be there. If he showed up with Potter, he would be seen. Noticed. Everyone would assume that they were dating.
That…surely, that wasn’t a good thing. Right?
“So, that’s a no?”
Draco jerked out of his mental spiral. Potter was still smiling at him, but there was a lingering disappointment in his expression.
Draco felt uncharacteristically guilty.
“It’s just…what will your friends say?” he asked hesitantly. He couldn’t imagine Granger taking this well. As for Weasley…hell, he didn’t even want to think about his reaction.
Potter seemed unconcerned. “I’m a big boy, Draco,” he said firmly. “My friends, my problem. The question is, do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
That was a good question. He didn’t…not want to go. Was that the same as wanting to? He had a feeling he wouldn’t know until he tried. And Draco hated not knowing things…
It was just one evening. And what did he care what a bunch of busy bodies at the Ministry thought? It’s not like he spoke to them anyway.
“I suppose so,” he offered finally, grudgingly. “We don’t have to stay long, do we?”
He chanced a look up at Potter. He was smiling now- a real smile, wide and bright. Draco looked away, ignoring the small seed of warmth unfurling inside him at the sight. Why did Potter have to smile so much anyway?
All of a sudden, he felt a need to change the subject.
“Seriously, what did you put in these eggs? Is this coconut milk?”
Potter just chuckled and piled more eggs in his plate. And Draco smiled back, absently wondering when he’d last had a morning this pleasant.
****
Later that evening:
“What is the point of hosting a ‘Yule Ball’ in the first bloody week of December?” Draco grumbled as he followed Potter to the ballroom in the Ministry’s West Wing. “They’re not fooling anyone. I know it’s not Christmas yet.”
“Please don’t ask me to explain how Human Resources works,” Potter replied, nudging him playfully. “We’ll be here all night.”
Draco laughed, despite himself. For the first time ever, he was actually looking forward to this wretched affair.
“I’ll bet you five galleons Weasley makes a scene and Granger has to drag him out by his ear,” he declared.
Potter’s bark of laughter echoed down the hall. “Hush,” he scolded lightly. “We’re here.”
Draco fell silent and entered the ballroom alongside Potter. As usual, the Ministry had gone overboard with the decorations. The effect was cheerful, if a little gaudy. Still, Draco could appreciate the bright lights and the festive tree holding court in the centre of the room. The guests milled about, dressed to the nines. There were more than a few well-tailored dress robes in the mix, and yet…Draco’s eyes kept straying back to Potter.
There was something about him. He stood out, even in a crowd of dozens. Even though he was dressed in elegant, formal robes, Potter looked like he could head out to battle any second. He looked dangerous, capable and handsome as hell. And clearly everyone knew it. Draco had spotted more than one head turning and a few eyes widening when they made their entrance. He smirked to himself.
Perhaps being seen with Potter had its perks.
“Oi, Harry!”
The cheerful bellow rang out from the other end of the ballroom.
Draco pursed his lips as Weasley strode over, closely followed by a smiling Granger. Guided by instinct, he took one step back, sliding closer to Potter.
“Merlin, you made it!” Weasley exclaimed. “We were just about to…wait, is that Malfoy?”
Damn it.
Draco shuffled awkwardly as Granger and Weasley gawked at him. Potter gave him an encouraging smile, but it didn’t do much to reassure him. Granger was just watching him with unabashed curiosity now, while Weasley looked like he’d swallowed a Flobberworm.
“Weasley, Granger,” he greeted in monotone.
“Hello, Malfoy,” Granger offered cautiously. Her eyes flicked back to Potter and her silent question was plain as day. Potter just smiled and wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist.
It was a heartening gesture and Draco was strangely grateful for the support.
Shockingly, Weasley didn’t share the sentiment.
“Harry, what the hell?” he barked. He was turning red before Draco’s eyes, glaring at them both now. Draco cringed as a few heads turned in their direction.
“Ron.” Potter’s voice was clipped. He looked annoyed, but he had yet to let go of Draco. “Not now,” he said firmly.
“But…”
“I said, not now,” Potter repeated, in that same no-nonsense voice. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Granger mercifully, took the cue. “Ron, let’s get a drink,” she said, grabbing her boyfriend’s arm and starting to leading him away firmly. “I think they’re breaking out the good champagne.”
They left, Weasley still sputtering indignantly.
Draco heaved a sigh of relief. Merlin, that was awkward.
He started when Potter squeezed his shoulders gently. “Sorry about that,” he whispered. “Do you want to step outside for a minute?”
It was a good idea. A bit of fresh air could hardly hurt.
“Hang on,” Draco said suddenly. He snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Potter. “One for good luck?”
Potter grinned and accepted the glass, before leading him out.
****
They ended up on the balcony overlooking the gardens. Draco let the silence wash over him, admiring the world below bathed in a dim glow of the moonlight. The trees were frosted over, gleaming bright against the darkness. Two ravens perched on a wrought iron gate, calling out to each other. The moon hung full and bright in the sky, framing a cold and beautiful world.
It was amazing.
“Top off?”
Potter grinned and offered his champagne to Draco.
“Trying to get me drunk?” Draco taunted, accepting the glass. There was no rancour in his teasing this time. Just a warm comfort and a sense of satisfaction brought about by the buzz of alcohol and…
…and Potter, standing here with him.
“Can’t say I’m not tempted,” Potter replied softly. “But that’s not how I want this to go. Not this time.”
Draco flushed. He turned his gaze back to the gardens and took a swig of champagne. When he felt Potter’s arms wrap around his waist, he bit back a smile.
“Stop,” he murmured, trying to nudge him away. “Haven’t we given those vultures in there enough reason to gossip already?”
“Not nearly enough,” Potter retorted, trailing warm lips down his nape. “Merlin, you’re beautiful. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”
Draco’s breath caught. Potter had a knack for saying things like that- things that left him floundering for words. Sometimes…sometimes it was enough to make him believe that Potter wanted him. Times like this made him wonder if this was more than attraction and lust, if this was something…else.
But no, that thought was foolish. That sort of thing just didn’t happen. Not to him.
School rivals turned lovers. Draco nearly laughed. Merlin, talk about a fairy tale…
No, he was better off living in the real world. A world where things were exactly what they seemed. Where green was green and red was red and the two just didn’t mix. Ever.
He nudged his way out of Potter’s grip. He felt tired, all of a sudden. And sad too, although that was something he wouldn’t admit.
“We should be leaving soon,” he said quietly.
If Potter noticed the shift in his mood, he didn’t mention it. He pressed a chaste kiss to Draco’s cheek and let him go.
“Just give me a minute to talk to Ron, yeah?”
A warm hand traced his jaw and just for a second, Draco indulged himself and leaned into the touch. Then Potter was gone, walking away from him with quick, purposeful strides and heading back inside.
Draco turned back to the gardens. The snow was falling again, bathing the world in white. He wondered why it wasn’t colder. In fact, it was rather pleasant out here.
Warm, almost.
Too warm, actually. It was probably the champagne. But Merlin, was he parched. Draco took another swig, if only to dampen his dry throat.
The buzzing in his head was growing louder. A dull, droning hum was drowning out his thoughts. A knot was forming at the base of his skull, pounding like a steady drum.
Draco swallowed.
His mouth was dry. So dry.
His heart was beating faster. He could feel his pulse against his collar.
What…what was happening?
He staggered as he let go of the railing. The world spun around him, tilting violently from side to side. The glass fell from his limp fingers, but the buzzing was so loud he didn’t even hear it break.
Something was wrong. The dazed thought settled in his head and a dull panic set in. Something was very, very wrong with him.
He needed to go back inside.
Find help.
Find…Harry.
His knees buckled before he could take two steps. He fell face first and just about managed to brace himself against the wall before he collapsed. His breath was coming and sharp, harsh pants now. He could barely breathe, it was so hot. It was like he was burning up from the inside, like he was on fire…
Fire.
Flames danced at the edge of his vision. Draco’s breath caught in his throat. The world was a vivid orange now, bright and blinding. He could feel the tongues of fire reaching for him, singeing his flesh. He was choking on the acrid smoke.
Somewhere, he heard Crabbe’s howls through the dull roar of the flames. Crabbe was dying. Right in front of him.
It was happening again.
And this time he was going to die too.
He didn’t realise he’d been screaming until his voice gave out and his knees buckled. As he fell into blessed unconsciousness, he thought he saw green eyes seeking him out in the flames and a familiar voice screaming his name.
Part 8