Dramione_ldws: weeks 8 through 13
I took second place in Round 3 at dramione_ldws. Yay! It was tremendous fun, and I'm very pleased with the outcome. I loved the movie theme idea, the challenges, and the beautiful banners. pokeystar is so damn cool. She's creative, funny, and an all-around excellent mod.
I'll be sitting out during Round 4 due to RL craziness, but I'll be back for Round 5. It's too much fun to stay away for long.
Challenge 8, prompt: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (theme insanity, must take place at St. Mungo's)
Title: Free to Love
Word Count and Rating: 497, PG-13
Summary: After Voldemort wins, only a lunatic would love a Mudblood.
Notes: Also for my mission_insane movie table and 100quills 049 If.
Healer Grieves beamed at his guest.
"As you can see, here at St. Mungo's, we are successfully retraining afflicted wizards and witches for proper roles in society."
Madame Échapper, an imperious woman from Paris's wizard hospital with sleek, tightly-bound brown hair, horned-rimmed glasses, and a small mole by her mouth, remained impassive. "I nevair would 'ave chosen ze word 'afflicted' for people in love."
Grieves frowned. "It fits when the so-called love is unnatural. These patients are here because of self-destructive affection for Mudbloods. We cure them."
"Oui, of course you are correct." The woman moved slowly up the hall, peering into every room through windows in the doors. She stopped outside room 418. "'Oo is zis?"
The Healer joined her at the window. Within, a blond man slept curled in the fetal position.
"Draco Malfoy…a disappointing case, I admit. He became involved with a particularly notorious Mudblood-Hermione Granger, close friend of Undesirable Number One-and turned traitor. Such a shame. His family used to be so well connected."
Against the window, her hand curled into a fist. "Ze patient is not responding to ze program?"
"Not as well as we'd like. He still loves her. He even insists they're married." The Healer's disgust was reflected in the glass. "Such a union is not recognized, of course; we now have laws against miscegenation. Nevertheless, he remains devoted."
Emotion gripped the woman, and Grieves laughed.
"I know. It would be romantic if it weren't so perverse." He shook his head. "Luckily, we've made our first breakthrough in his treatment."
"Breakthrough?"
"A Sleeping Draught to prevent dreams. Apparently, he often dreams of his Mudblood." Grieves examined Malfoy again, evidently pleased by what he saw. "When we told him this would no longer be tolerated, he cried."
Something like grief crossed her face.
"Feel no pity, Madame. It's a sign we're reaching him."
She abruptly opened the door with her wand and entered.
"Madame!" Grieves was rendered unconscious with one swish and flick. Wordlessly, she locked the door and darkened the window.
Moving swiftly, she poured a restorative potion down Draco's throat. "Wake up, love."
"Hermione?" Groggy, he touched the mole by her mouth.
"Yes. I'm in disguise." She helped him sit up. "We have to hurry; the extraction team leaves in six minutes."
Dreamlike, Draco traced her lips with his fingertip. "I tried to hold on, but they took you from me."
Swallowing a sob, she kissed him, relishing the feel of his mouth after months apart. "I've come for you, and we're getting out of here."
Hermione tugged hairs from Draco's scalp, and from Grieves's, and dropped them into tiny vials of Polyjuice Potion from her pocket. Pressing one into his hand, she forced the other between the Healer's jaws.
Slightly more alert, Draco looked from the vial in his palm to the floor where Grieves was turning into his twin. "You're real, aren't you?"
Hermione cupped his face with gentle hands. "I'm real, and I love you."
Challenge #9, prompt: The Sure Thing (theme bickering/snark, must take place on the Knight Bus.)
Title: Our History
Word Count and Rating: 499, G
Summary: Some history should be preserved. Some should be outgrown.
Notes: Winner, challenge 9. Also written for my mission_insane movie table.
Parchment and quill ready, Hermione climbed into the Knight Bus and beamed at its purple-clad conductor.
"Good evening, Mr. Shunpike. We're back." She moved aside long enough to allow Draco to reach past and drop twenty-two Sickles into the box, thus-as Draco thought of it-paying for the privilege of harassing Stan Shunpike for a few hours.
"As I'm sure you remember, Mr. Malfoy and I are volunteering on behalf of the Bathilda Bagshot Memorial Oral History Project, and we're here to give you the chance to tell the story of your wartime experiences in your own words." Hermione adopted her most encouraging tone, the one practiced to perfection on Harry and Ron. "I know you weren't in the mood to speak with us the last three times we were here, but I'm sure we'll have a nice talk tonight. What do you think?"
Shunpike glared, retreated up by the driver, barked, "No distractin' of the driver an' conductor!" and yanked shut the purple curtain he had put up after Draco and Hermione's first visit, blocking their view.
"Well, this promises to be another wasted evening." Draco commandeered the bed closest to the curtain and held on to the brass rail when the bus leaped forward. He caught Hermione as she fell toward the back of the bus and dropped her beside him on the bed. "You clearly terrify the man, Granger. Do all men hide when you start talking, or is it just your approach here?"
"My approach is fine, thank you. If Mr. Shunpike is terrified, it's because of the way the Ministry and Voldemort tormented him. You know, you've been remarkably unhelpful during these interviews, Malfoy. If you think it's easy forging a personal connection with Mr. Shunpike and persuading him to talk, let's see you try it."
"Fine." Draco straightened his spine and yelled, "Shunpike! As a former Death Eater, I order you to come out here and spill your guts!"
The bus swerved wildly, dumping one small bearded wizard out of his bed and rolling him under his neighbor.
"What is wrong with you?" Hermione leaped from the bed and stuck her head through the curtain. "Mr. Shunpike, I apologize. He didn't mean-"
"Back behin' the yellow line!" Shunpike shoved Hermione back far enough that she landed next to Draco again.
"Look," Draco pointed as he helped her sit up. A squiggly line had been painted on the floor behind the driver. "I guess he painted that after our last visit."
Hermione exhaled audibly. "Malfoy, we're here for one reason."
"Court-ordered community service?"
"No, a commitment to preserving our history!"
"Or perhaps the fact that I read the Op-Ed piece you wrote on volunteering and took the opportunity to spend time with you?"
The bus weaved around them, but Hermione ignored it. "Why would you do that?"
"Easy." Draco grabbed her quill as it rolled and gave it to her, letting his fingers brush hers, "I'm ready to move past our history."
Challenge #10, prompt: The Wizard of Oz (theme ruby slippers, must contain married D/Hr, post-Hogwarts.)
Title: Fetish
Word Count and Rating: 175, PG-13
Summary: Draco really likes her shoes.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane movie table.
The moment they came home, Hermione was reaching for the straps on her shoes.
"Wait." Draco swept her off her feet and started up the staircase. "I like these shoes." He cast admiring eyes at her footwear: high-heeled and as ruby-red as her dress robes.
"They're killing me."
"But they make your legs as long as racing brooms. You were the most gorgeous woman in that ballroom tonight." He smiled at her blush. "Ask anyone. I bet Weasley would agree with me."
"Where did Ron go anyway? I saw you talking while I was dancing with Lucius, but he vanished after that." She caught his eye as they entered their bedroom. "Oh, please tell me you didn't fight."
"No fighting." He dropped her across their bed and pulled her feet to his shoulders. "I merely pointed out how sexy you are and wondered aloud how to persuade you to wear these shoes to bed tonight." His mouth traced the ruby strap over her ankle, and he grinned when she whimpered. "I really like these shoes."
Challenge #11, prompt: Pride and Prejudice (theme mistaken judgment, must contain Draco in a wet shirt.)
Title: Rain, Rain Go Away
Word Count and Rating: 499, PG
Summary: To some, a Death Eater is all he'll ever be.
Notes: Winner, challenge 11. Also written for my mission_insane movie table and 100quills 031 Forgiveness.
Hermione noticed the loud swearing coming from Draco's office at the same moment she noticed water trickling out from under the door.
"Malfoy? It's Hermione Granger." She knocked three times in rapid succession over the tarnished nameplate reading Supply and Acquisition, D. Malfoy, Junior Assistant.
The sudden silence was broken only by a faint squelch as she shifted her feet. She knocked again.
"Go away." His voice was muffled by the sound of water.
"But I wanted to speak with you. Can't I come in?" Ignoring his protests, she opened the door, releasing a small flood into the corridor. "What's happen-" She broke off and covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Draco stood in the only open bit of floor space available in his shabby office, his mouth flattened into a thin line. Inches over his head, a small cloud hovered, dumping torrents of rain. It flattened his hair to his head and dripped steadily from his nose, chin, even his earlobes. His shirt clung, transparent, to his body like a second skin. With some effort, Hermione dragged her eyes away from the tiny nipples visible through the material and followed his soaked trousers down to the floor where interdepartmental memos, too sodden to fly, flapped against his feet.
"Oh, Malfoy," she sighed. "Who's angry with you?"
"This time? Maintenance." He licked rain from his lips. "Someone's stealing supplies, so I changed the locks on all their cupboards."
Hermione tried to get rid of the cloud with an Atmospheric Charm. If anything, it rained harder. "Go to the department head."
"I already did." Draco's eyes were shuttered and blank. "He said he wasn't going to listen to a Death Eater accuse his people of thieving." His hands clenched into fists. "Because that's all I'll ever be, of course. Never mind the fact that I sit faithfully this shoebox of an office buried under the Ministry, counting quills and paper clips all day long. Or that the closest I've come to battle since I was seventeen is my current struggle with the Great Toilet Roll Bandit of Maintenance."
Hermione leaned against the door frame. "People have long memories."
"Long on memory, short on forgiveness," he muttered.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" He shook his head skeptically. "I assume you're here to respond to my ill-conceived invitation to dinner. Well, go ahead." He held his arms out wide, as if defenseless. Rain dripped from his elbows. "Turn me down. Put the final cap on this horrible day, so that I and my little friend here," he pointed up at the cloud, "can go home and crawl into bed with an umbrella and a bottle of whiskey."
She looked at her watch. "It's nine a.m., Draco."
"Like I care. Get on with it."
"I'd love to go out with you."
He gaped at her. "You would?"
"Pick me up at seven." She glanced at the seemingly bottomless cloud over his head and smiled. "If I have to, I'll wear my raincoat."
Challenge 12, prompt: Saving Private Ryan (theme: courage, must be set during wartime)
Title: Chrysalis
Word Count and Rating: 499, PG
Summary: She's right: he's never been brave.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane movie table and 100quills 014 Honor. This was my favorite challenge from Round 3.
Granger's magic pulls Draco from the tunnel before any traps can eviscerate him.
"Where does this lead, Malfoy?" She peers into the black passage.
He fights the Body-Bind enough to say, "Hollow oak. Forbidden Forest."
Her lip curls in disgust and she releases him, letting him drop to the floor. "Running away?"
He could tell her the truth. Wherever the Dark Lord waits during this last hour before the battle resumes, Lucius and Narcissa wait with him, and if Draco dies today, he wants to die with them. He could tell her he knows he's on the wrong side of this war, that he's trapped and scared, but their exchange is overlaid by the memory of how she writhed under his aunt's wand. Her screams echoed off the walls of his home and in his ears, and Draco figures he has lost the privilege of confiding in her, if he ever had it.
Instead he says, "We can't all be heroes. Someone has to be the villain of the piece."
Her contempt deepens, and she does something complex and wordless with her wand to seal the tunnel-something Draco's certain he couldn't break even if his mother's wand hadn't been destroyed.
She hesitates, and he sees a familiar expression cross her face. It's the expression he saw as Bellatrix raised her wand for another Cruciatus: fear, exhaustion, and the brittle edge of despair.
"Have you seen Harry?"
"Not since before." He doesn't have to say it was before the Dark Lord's ultimatum. In war, everything is before or after one horror or another. It dawns on him why she's asking. "Potter isn't going to give himself up. He's not that stupid."
Her anxiety morphs into anger in an instant. "You think it's stupid to be brave enough to sacrifice yourself for others, no matter what the cost?" Her voice rises. "What do you know? You've never done a brave thing in your life!"
I tried, he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by his sorry attempt to help her and her friends at the Manor. He wants to tell her he's not the same boy he used to be. The Dark Lord is mad and evil. Pureblood pride is an empty lie. Granger is incredible, fearsome, more powerful than Draco will ever be, and it's all right for her to be so. The chrysalis of accepting these thoughts takes all the courage he possesses. She's right. He's never been brave.
He slumps against the wall. "Don’t worry. Potter always wins. Typical Gryffindor."
She lifts her chin at that, and Draco knows she will fight to the end, even if Potter is never seen again. Typical Gryffindor, indeed. He doesn't know what impulse leads him to take her hand or why she lets him.
"Good luck, Granger. Stay safe." He squeezes her hand, wishing he had a fraction of her strength.
She looks down at their clasped hands for a moment before she says, "You too, Malfoy."
And squeezes back.
Challenge #13 - Finale 1 prompt: It's a Wonderful Life (theme gratitude, must be Draco's POV)
Title: The Best Way to Count Your Blessings in Fifteen Minutes or Less
Word Count and Rating: 250, PG-13
Summary: I'm the luckiest man alive. No, seriously.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane Technical table: 001 First Person Narrative and 100quills 020 Clarity.
I'm the luckiest man alive. No, seriously.
After all, I'm married to Hermione, and our brilliant, slightly scary children are quietly playing outside.
See? I'm lucky.
I corner Hermione in the kitchen, trying to unclog the sink, from the looks of things. She's luscious, perched on her knees on the counter next to the sink, wearing those shorts-the shorts that used to be jeans until she took a severing charm to them. It's good to be me.
She forces the plunger up and down and every inch of her jiggles.
"Draco," she gasps, her curvy little butt bouncing on her heels, "is it draining?"
There's a bone-dry bucket below the sink. "Why not use a charm?"
She keeps bouncing and I keep enjoying it. "This clog is beyond magic."
I nod, knowing better than to suggest one of her household charms failed. Instead, I put one hand over hers on the plunger. "The kids are outside," I say meaningfully when she stares at me. I give her my best sultry expression.
"You want to…now?" She's disbelieving, as if she doesn't know what those shorts do to me.
"We have a good fifteen minutes until someone breaks a bone or sets something on fire."
"That's optimistic." She tries to tug the plunger away from me. "We don't have time."
"Nonsense. If we skip foreplay, I can be done in five minutes."
She laughs. "That's an enticement." And I seize the chance kiss her open mouth and swallow her laughter down.
Challenge #13 - Finale 2 prompt: Say Anything (Writer's choice for the movie, must use movie title as drabble title and include a line of dialogue.)
Title: Say Anything
Word Count and Rating: 596, PG
Summary: Draco and Hermione knew her friends would have a hard time accepting their marriage. They didn't know it would be this hard.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane movie table (finished!) and 100quills 001 Doubt. Contains a line from Say Anything.
"It's a good thing we didn't open these gifts before we left for the honeymoon." Hermione climbed up off the floor and onto the couch next to Draco. "I just don't know what to say."
"Well, I do." Draco wadded a handful of gilt wrapping paper into a ball and threw it at the photograph of Hermione, Harry, and Ron on the mantle. The paper bounced harmlessly off the heavy frame. "Your friends are utter-"
Hermione covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't say it, please." She left her hand in place until she felt Draco relax and kiss her palm. Crossing one leg over his body, Hermione shifted until she straddled his lap. Cupping his jaw and kissing him in return, she sighed as his hands slid underneath the faded "Slytherins Do It with Ambition" t-shirt she had appropriated from his closet not long after they started dating. "I'm sure Harry and Ron mean well," she whispered against his lips.
She was pushed off his lap before she could blink.
"They mean well?" Draco began rummaging through the opened presents next to the couch. "What's so well-meaning about this book Weasley gave you?" He held up a copy of When Good Witches Love Bad Wizards by Healer Hester Grim. On the cover, a sorrowful witch burst into tears over and over.
"He also gave me a very useful book on household spells and a study of the oral history traditions among house elves." She gestured weakly toward the book in her husband's hands. "That author is receiving a lot of publicity right now, on the WWW and everything. Perhaps Ron just heard of her and thought I would be interested. Draco? What's wrong?" Draco had opened the book and looked absolutely furious.
"He bought you a ticket to her "get over that bad boy and get on with life" seminar." He held up the ticket but kept his eyes on the book. "Weasley also wrote a touching inscription here." He cleared his throat and Hermione felt her heart sink. "Hermione, I'm here if you need me. Love you, Ron.'" He closed the book with a snap and stared at her expectantly.
Hermione plucked the ticket from his hand and tore it in half. "Ron is very protective, that's all. It's his nature."
"Much like Potter, who gave you that portable fellytone."
Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. "It's a mobile telephone, and it's a nice gift."
"Not if he gives it to you with the idea that you'll need a way to call for help if my evil family prevents you from contacting him with magic." Draco found the mobile under a box and tossed it onto the sofa next to Hermione.
"Your family's not evil. Not completely." He gave her his darkest look and she smiled. "Come on, Draco. You're being quite hard on my friends. I could say a thing or two about your parents, but I'm not."
"My parents gave us this wonderful house for an engagement present!"
"Yes, and they covered it with Muggle-repelling charms. My parents drove around for hours trying to find us. Whenever my father came close, he'd make a wrong turn." She took his hand. "You know they would be happy if you and my parents were never in the same room. We both knew it would be difficult for our friends and families to accept our marriage."
Draco sputtered before blurting, "Nobody thinks it will work, do they?"
"No." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his wedding ring. "You just described every great success story."
I'll be sitting out during Round 4 due to RL craziness, but I'll be back for Round 5. It's too much fun to stay away for long.
Challenge 8, prompt: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (theme insanity, must take place at St. Mungo's)
Title: Free to Love
Word Count and Rating: 497, PG-13
Summary: After Voldemort wins, only a lunatic would love a Mudblood.
Notes: Also for my mission_insane movie table and 100quills 049 If.
Healer Grieves beamed at his guest.
"As you can see, here at St. Mungo's, we are successfully retraining afflicted wizards and witches for proper roles in society."
Madame Échapper, an imperious woman from Paris's wizard hospital with sleek, tightly-bound brown hair, horned-rimmed glasses, and a small mole by her mouth, remained impassive. "I nevair would 'ave chosen ze word 'afflicted' for people in love."
Grieves frowned. "It fits when the so-called love is unnatural. These patients are here because of self-destructive affection for Mudbloods. We cure them."
"Oui, of course you are correct." The woman moved slowly up the hall, peering into every room through windows in the doors. She stopped outside room 418. "'Oo is zis?"
The Healer joined her at the window. Within, a blond man slept curled in the fetal position.
"Draco Malfoy…a disappointing case, I admit. He became involved with a particularly notorious Mudblood-Hermione Granger, close friend of Undesirable Number One-and turned traitor. Such a shame. His family used to be so well connected."
Against the window, her hand curled into a fist. "Ze patient is not responding to ze program?"
"Not as well as we'd like. He still loves her. He even insists they're married." The Healer's disgust was reflected in the glass. "Such a union is not recognized, of course; we now have laws against miscegenation. Nevertheless, he remains devoted."
Emotion gripped the woman, and Grieves laughed.
"I know. It would be romantic if it weren't so perverse." He shook his head. "Luckily, we've made our first breakthrough in his treatment."
"Breakthrough?"
"A Sleeping Draught to prevent dreams. Apparently, he often dreams of his Mudblood." Grieves examined Malfoy again, evidently pleased by what he saw. "When we told him this would no longer be tolerated, he cried."
Something like grief crossed her face.
"Feel no pity, Madame. It's a sign we're reaching him."
She abruptly opened the door with her wand and entered.
"Madame!" Grieves was rendered unconscious with one swish and flick. Wordlessly, she locked the door and darkened the window.
Moving swiftly, she poured a restorative potion down Draco's throat. "Wake up, love."
"Hermione?" Groggy, he touched the mole by her mouth.
"Yes. I'm in disguise." She helped him sit up. "We have to hurry; the extraction team leaves in six minutes."
Dreamlike, Draco traced her lips with his fingertip. "I tried to hold on, but they took you from me."
Swallowing a sob, she kissed him, relishing the feel of his mouth after months apart. "I've come for you, and we're getting out of here."
Hermione tugged hairs from Draco's scalp, and from Grieves's, and dropped them into tiny vials of Polyjuice Potion from her pocket. Pressing one into his hand, she forced the other between the Healer's jaws.
Slightly more alert, Draco looked from the vial in his palm to the floor where Grieves was turning into his twin. "You're real, aren't you?"
Hermione cupped his face with gentle hands. "I'm real, and I love you."
Challenge #9, prompt: The Sure Thing (theme bickering/snark, must take place on the Knight Bus.)
Title: Our History
Word Count and Rating: 499, G
Summary: Some history should be preserved. Some should be outgrown.
Notes: Winner, challenge 9. Also written for my mission_insane movie table.
Parchment and quill ready, Hermione climbed into the Knight Bus and beamed at its purple-clad conductor.
"Good evening, Mr. Shunpike. We're back." She moved aside long enough to allow Draco to reach past and drop twenty-two Sickles into the box, thus-as Draco thought of it-paying for the privilege of harassing Stan Shunpike for a few hours.
"As I'm sure you remember, Mr. Malfoy and I are volunteering on behalf of the Bathilda Bagshot Memorial Oral History Project, and we're here to give you the chance to tell the story of your wartime experiences in your own words." Hermione adopted her most encouraging tone, the one practiced to perfection on Harry and Ron. "I know you weren't in the mood to speak with us the last three times we were here, but I'm sure we'll have a nice talk tonight. What do you think?"
Shunpike glared, retreated up by the driver, barked, "No distractin' of the driver an' conductor!" and yanked shut the purple curtain he had put up after Draco and Hermione's first visit, blocking their view.
"Well, this promises to be another wasted evening." Draco commandeered the bed closest to the curtain and held on to the brass rail when the bus leaped forward. He caught Hermione as she fell toward the back of the bus and dropped her beside him on the bed. "You clearly terrify the man, Granger. Do all men hide when you start talking, or is it just your approach here?"
"My approach is fine, thank you. If Mr. Shunpike is terrified, it's because of the way the Ministry and Voldemort tormented him. You know, you've been remarkably unhelpful during these interviews, Malfoy. If you think it's easy forging a personal connection with Mr. Shunpike and persuading him to talk, let's see you try it."
"Fine." Draco straightened his spine and yelled, "Shunpike! As a former Death Eater, I order you to come out here and spill your guts!"
The bus swerved wildly, dumping one small bearded wizard out of his bed and rolling him under his neighbor.
"What is wrong with you?" Hermione leaped from the bed and stuck her head through the curtain. "Mr. Shunpike, I apologize. He didn't mean-"
"Back behin' the yellow line!" Shunpike shoved Hermione back far enough that she landed next to Draco again.
"Look," Draco pointed as he helped her sit up. A squiggly line had been painted on the floor behind the driver. "I guess he painted that after our last visit."
Hermione exhaled audibly. "Malfoy, we're here for one reason."
"Court-ordered community service?"
"No, a commitment to preserving our history!"
"Or perhaps the fact that I read the Op-Ed piece you wrote on volunteering and took the opportunity to spend time with you?"
The bus weaved around them, but Hermione ignored it. "Why would you do that?"
"Easy." Draco grabbed her quill as it rolled and gave it to her, letting his fingers brush hers, "I'm ready to move past our history."
Challenge #10, prompt: The Wizard of Oz (theme ruby slippers, must contain married D/Hr, post-Hogwarts.)
Title: Fetish
Word Count and Rating: 175, PG-13
Summary: Draco really likes her shoes.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane movie table.
The moment they came home, Hermione was reaching for the straps on her shoes.
"Wait." Draco swept her off her feet and started up the staircase. "I like these shoes." He cast admiring eyes at her footwear: high-heeled and as ruby-red as her dress robes.
"They're killing me."
"But they make your legs as long as racing brooms. You were the most gorgeous woman in that ballroom tonight." He smiled at her blush. "Ask anyone. I bet Weasley would agree with me."
"Where did Ron go anyway? I saw you talking while I was dancing with Lucius, but he vanished after that." She caught his eye as they entered their bedroom. "Oh, please tell me you didn't fight."
"No fighting." He dropped her across their bed and pulled her feet to his shoulders. "I merely pointed out how sexy you are and wondered aloud how to persuade you to wear these shoes to bed tonight." His mouth traced the ruby strap over her ankle, and he grinned when she whimpered. "I really like these shoes."
Challenge #11, prompt: Pride and Prejudice (theme mistaken judgment, must contain Draco in a wet shirt.)
Title: Rain, Rain Go Away
Word Count and Rating: 499, PG
Summary: To some, a Death Eater is all he'll ever be.
Notes: Winner, challenge 11. Also written for my mission_insane movie table and 100quills 031 Forgiveness.
Hermione noticed the loud swearing coming from Draco's office at the same moment she noticed water trickling out from under the door.
"Malfoy? It's Hermione Granger." She knocked three times in rapid succession over the tarnished nameplate reading Supply and Acquisition, D. Malfoy, Junior Assistant.
The sudden silence was broken only by a faint squelch as she shifted her feet. She knocked again.
"Go away." His voice was muffled by the sound of water.
"But I wanted to speak with you. Can't I come in?" Ignoring his protests, she opened the door, releasing a small flood into the corridor. "What's happen-" She broke off and covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Draco stood in the only open bit of floor space available in his shabby office, his mouth flattened into a thin line. Inches over his head, a small cloud hovered, dumping torrents of rain. It flattened his hair to his head and dripped steadily from his nose, chin, even his earlobes. His shirt clung, transparent, to his body like a second skin. With some effort, Hermione dragged her eyes away from the tiny nipples visible through the material and followed his soaked trousers down to the floor where interdepartmental memos, too sodden to fly, flapped against his feet.
"Oh, Malfoy," she sighed. "Who's angry with you?"
"This time? Maintenance." He licked rain from his lips. "Someone's stealing supplies, so I changed the locks on all their cupboards."
Hermione tried to get rid of the cloud with an Atmospheric Charm. If anything, it rained harder. "Go to the department head."
"I already did." Draco's eyes were shuttered and blank. "He said he wasn't going to listen to a Death Eater accuse his people of thieving." His hands clenched into fists. "Because that's all I'll ever be, of course. Never mind the fact that I sit faithfully this shoebox of an office buried under the Ministry, counting quills and paper clips all day long. Or that the closest I've come to battle since I was seventeen is my current struggle with the Great Toilet Roll Bandit of Maintenance."
Hermione leaned against the door frame. "People have long memories."
"Long on memory, short on forgiveness," he muttered.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" He shook his head skeptically. "I assume you're here to respond to my ill-conceived invitation to dinner. Well, go ahead." He held his arms out wide, as if defenseless. Rain dripped from his elbows. "Turn me down. Put the final cap on this horrible day, so that I and my little friend here," he pointed up at the cloud, "can go home and crawl into bed with an umbrella and a bottle of whiskey."
She looked at her watch. "It's nine a.m., Draco."
"Like I care. Get on with it."
"I'd love to go out with you."
He gaped at her. "You would?"
"Pick me up at seven." She glanced at the seemingly bottomless cloud over his head and smiled. "If I have to, I'll wear my raincoat."
Challenge 12, prompt: Saving Private Ryan (theme: courage, must be set during wartime)
Title: Chrysalis
Word Count and Rating: 499, PG
Summary: She's right: he's never been brave.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane movie table and 100quills 014 Honor. This was my favorite challenge from Round 3.
Granger's magic pulls Draco from the tunnel before any traps can eviscerate him.
"Where does this lead, Malfoy?" She peers into the black passage.
He fights the Body-Bind enough to say, "Hollow oak. Forbidden Forest."
Her lip curls in disgust and she releases him, letting him drop to the floor. "Running away?"
He could tell her the truth. Wherever the Dark Lord waits during this last hour before the battle resumes, Lucius and Narcissa wait with him, and if Draco dies today, he wants to die with them. He could tell her he knows he's on the wrong side of this war, that he's trapped and scared, but their exchange is overlaid by the memory of how she writhed under his aunt's wand. Her screams echoed off the walls of his home and in his ears, and Draco figures he has lost the privilege of confiding in her, if he ever had it.
Instead he says, "We can't all be heroes. Someone has to be the villain of the piece."
Her contempt deepens, and she does something complex and wordless with her wand to seal the tunnel-something Draco's certain he couldn't break even if his mother's wand hadn't been destroyed.
She hesitates, and he sees a familiar expression cross her face. It's the expression he saw as Bellatrix raised her wand for another Cruciatus: fear, exhaustion, and the brittle edge of despair.
"Have you seen Harry?"
"Not since before." He doesn't have to say it was before the Dark Lord's ultimatum. In war, everything is before or after one horror or another. It dawns on him why she's asking. "Potter isn't going to give himself up. He's not that stupid."
Her anxiety morphs into anger in an instant. "You think it's stupid to be brave enough to sacrifice yourself for others, no matter what the cost?" Her voice rises. "What do you know? You've never done a brave thing in your life!"
I tried, he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by his sorry attempt to help her and her friends at the Manor. He wants to tell her he's not the same boy he used to be. The Dark Lord is mad and evil. Pureblood pride is an empty lie. Granger is incredible, fearsome, more powerful than Draco will ever be, and it's all right for her to be so. The chrysalis of accepting these thoughts takes all the courage he possesses. She's right. He's never been brave.
He slumps against the wall. "Don’t worry. Potter always wins. Typical Gryffindor."
She lifts her chin at that, and Draco knows she will fight to the end, even if Potter is never seen again. Typical Gryffindor, indeed. He doesn't know what impulse leads him to take her hand or why she lets him.
"Good luck, Granger. Stay safe." He squeezes her hand, wishing he had a fraction of her strength.
She looks down at their clasped hands for a moment before she says, "You too, Malfoy."
And squeezes back.
Challenge #13 - Finale 1 prompt: It's a Wonderful Life (theme gratitude, must be Draco's POV)
Title: The Best Way to Count Your Blessings in Fifteen Minutes or Less
Word Count and Rating: 250, PG-13
Summary: I'm the luckiest man alive. No, seriously.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane Technical table: 001 First Person Narrative and 100quills 020 Clarity.
I'm the luckiest man alive. No, seriously.
After all, I'm married to Hermione, and our brilliant, slightly scary children are quietly playing outside.
See? I'm lucky.
I corner Hermione in the kitchen, trying to unclog the sink, from the looks of things. She's luscious, perched on her knees on the counter next to the sink, wearing those shorts-the shorts that used to be jeans until she took a severing charm to them. It's good to be me.
She forces the plunger up and down and every inch of her jiggles.
"Draco," she gasps, her curvy little butt bouncing on her heels, "is it draining?"
There's a bone-dry bucket below the sink. "Why not use a charm?"
She keeps bouncing and I keep enjoying it. "This clog is beyond magic."
I nod, knowing better than to suggest one of her household charms failed. Instead, I put one hand over hers on the plunger. "The kids are outside," I say meaningfully when she stares at me. I give her my best sultry expression.
"You want to…now?" She's disbelieving, as if she doesn't know what those shorts do to me.
"We have a good fifteen minutes until someone breaks a bone or sets something on fire."
"That's optimistic." She tries to tug the plunger away from me. "We don't have time."
"Nonsense. If we skip foreplay, I can be done in five minutes."
She laughs. "That's an enticement." And I seize the chance kiss her open mouth and swallow her laughter down.
Challenge #13 - Finale 2 prompt: Say Anything (Writer's choice for the movie, must use movie title as drabble title and include a line of dialogue.)
Title: Say Anything
Word Count and Rating: 596, PG
Summary: Draco and Hermione knew her friends would have a hard time accepting their marriage. They didn't know it would be this hard.
Notes: Also written for my mission_insane movie table (finished!) and 100quills 001 Doubt. Contains a line from Say Anything.
"It's a good thing we didn't open these gifts before we left for the honeymoon." Hermione climbed up off the floor and onto the couch next to Draco. "I just don't know what to say."
"Well, I do." Draco wadded a handful of gilt wrapping paper into a ball and threw it at the photograph of Hermione, Harry, and Ron on the mantle. The paper bounced harmlessly off the heavy frame. "Your friends are utter-"
Hermione covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't say it, please." She left her hand in place until she felt Draco relax and kiss her palm. Crossing one leg over his body, Hermione shifted until she straddled his lap. Cupping his jaw and kissing him in return, she sighed as his hands slid underneath the faded "Slytherins Do It with Ambition" t-shirt she had appropriated from his closet not long after they started dating. "I'm sure Harry and Ron mean well," she whispered against his lips.
She was pushed off his lap before she could blink.
"They mean well?" Draco began rummaging through the opened presents next to the couch. "What's so well-meaning about this book Weasley gave you?" He held up a copy of When Good Witches Love Bad Wizards by Healer Hester Grim. On the cover, a sorrowful witch burst into tears over and over.
"He also gave me a very useful book on household spells and a study of the oral history traditions among house elves." She gestured weakly toward the book in her husband's hands. "That author is receiving a lot of publicity right now, on the WWW and everything. Perhaps Ron just heard of her and thought I would be interested. Draco? What's wrong?" Draco had opened the book and looked absolutely furious.
"He bought you a ticket to her "get over that bad boy and get on with life" seminar." He held up the ticket but kept his eyes on the book. "Weasley also wrote a touching inscription here." He cleared his throat and Hermione felt her heart sink. "Hermione, I'm here if you need me. Love you, Ron.'" He closed the book with a snap and stared at her expectantly.
Hermione plucked the ticket from his hand and tore it in half. "Ron is very protective, that's all. It's his nature."
"Much like Potter, who gave you that portable fellytone."
Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. "It's a mobile telephone, and it's a nice gift."
"Not if he gives it to you with the idea that you'll need a way to call for help if my evil family prevents you from contacting him with magic." Draco found the mobile under a box and tossed it onto the sofa next to Hermione.
"Your family's not evil. Not completely." He gave her his darkest look and she smiled. "Come on, Draco. You're being quite hard on my friends. I could say a thing or two about your parents, but I'm not."
"My parents gave us this wonderful house for an engagement present!"
"Yes, and they covered it with Muggle-repelling charms. My parents drove around for hours trying to find us. Whenever my father came close, he'd make a wrong turn." She took his hand. "You know they would be happy if you and my parents were never in the same room. We both knew it would be difficult for our friends and families to accept our marriage."
Draco sputtered before blurting, "Nobody thinks it will work, do they?"
"No." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his wedding ring. "You just described every great success story."