PAST-FIC: Daphne Asks Draco a Long-Overdue Question (D. Malfoy, D. Malfoy, Botty)
DATE/TIME: 6 June 2005, evening
CHARACTERS: Daphne Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Botty
PLACE: Peace Cottage
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: Complete (Written with ward_breaker.)
When he closed his eyes, Daphne knew she wasn't behind them. Making love, dutiful and thorough, that was Draco in bed now-they never just fucked anymore.
Fucking would imply passion, Daphne thought sourly, pulling the meat pies out of the oven and slamming the pan down on the kitchen table. Her stomach twisted into knots. Are you really going to do this?
She really was going to do it. She'd known the moment she'd sent Botty away with that letter to her solicitor, that letter she'd written and rewritten countless times.
It was past time she'd sent it, past time she'd asked Draco. The problem was that she didn't know how to ask.
Throwing aside her tea towel, Daphne walked slowly into the dining room where her husband was doing paperwork. She stood under the lintel and watched him, admiring the little furrow of concentration between his brows and wishing that he still focused on her with as much.
"Draco?" she asked, surprised by the unexpectedly pleasant timbre of her voice, "Has it escaped your notice that you're gay?"
He was still for a moment, the involuntary clench of hand around quill his only movement. After a minute, he put the quill down and squared it against the top of the parchment covered with diagrams, then looked up at her.
"Not entirely," he said quietly.
Daphne blinked, as much in surprise at her directness as Draco's own, and Draco got up from the table. He corked the ink bottle, then glanced at the clock.
"Julian's asleep?"
"I sang him Gran's 'special' lullaby. He'll sleep through the night. 'Not entirely', you say?"
Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Not entirely. Not entirely escaped, not entirely gay . . . ." He stopped and looked at her again. "Not entirely certain of anything except that you and Julian are my family and I love you."
Daphne's eyes burned. You will not cry, she ordered herself, wishing she had the courage to go to Draco and hold him.
She didn't. Touching him would make her cry.
"I love you. You and Julian are my life, but I think . . . you and I are going to have to redefine our family, Draco, because this," she said, sweeping an arm out as if to indicate the cottage, their marriage, everything, "this isn't working. I know you're not happy." She steeled herself. "I'm not happy."
Draco nodded. "I know. We've not laughed together, without Julian there to spark it, in a long time." He glanced at the family pictures hanging over the sideboard-a portrait Andromeda had painted of Daphne as a wedding gift, photographs of them holding the newborn Julian, more of Julian as he grew older-and then back at her. "I don't know what to do, Daphne." He spoke quietly, his voice filled with sadness.
This isn't so hard, Daphne lied to herself, sighing and sitting down at the table. "I've sent Botty off to ask my solicitor to prepare an Application for Decree of Divorcement," she whispered, keeping her eyes on her hands clasped in front of her as she was afraid of how Draco would react. "I miss your laugh, you know, and I think . . . I know that if we allow things to remain as they are," she continued, forcing herself to look at Draco, "even Julian won't be enough to prompt it."
Draco held her gaze for a long moment, the colour draining from his face. He shoved his hands roughly into his trouser pockets, then turned abruptly and walked through the archway into the living room.
Damn, Daphne thought, cursing herself for her precipitousness as she rose to follow him. "What else should I have done? Allowed us to go on miserably until we hated each other?"
When Draco didn't respond, Daphne leaned into the doorjamb and began biting a fingernail, her eyes darting about the room-lighting on everything but her husband, who was standing at the window that framed the rose garden, looking through the glass instead of at her.
"It isn't that, Daphne. I'll let Denby know to expect a letter-I don't think there's much to fight about, in terms of the arrangements." He glanced over his shoulder, then turned slowly towards her, his eyes bright as he bit at his lower lip. "I tried my best for you, love. You know that, don't you?"
Daphne's gaze slid over Draco's face to fix on a swirl of colour in the carpet. But I wasn't enough to inspire your devotion. I've never been enough for anyone, have I? The tears she'd been trying to forestall began to flow, but she made no move to wipe them away as she wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at him to answer, "Of . . . of course I do. You're right. There's nothing to fight about."
"Daphne . . . ." Draco took a half-step towards her, then stopped. Light glinted off matching tears on his face. "That wasn't meant as an excuse. Just as . . . a validation, I suppose. We married for the right reasons-I loved you then and love you now-but you're right. It isn't working anymore. I'm not sure what shifted or why, but it did."
He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to her. Always the gentleman, Daphne thought, looking at Draco but not taking the square of linen as she hugged herself more tightly. "So it did."
Draco continued to hold out the handkerchief, so Daphne relented and took it, dabbing at her eyes with it before tucking it into a pocket. She wondered why she wasn't angry.
It would make everything so much easier if I were. "Thank you," she said finally, before sighing and getting on with it. "We can sign the papers tonight when Botty returns, and I'll file them tomorrow. Then . . . then we only need wait the year, and-are you hungry?" she asked, abruptly turning towards the kitchen.
Draco didn't follow her immediately. A few sounds came from the sitting room: the thunk of a drawer, the slight creak of a window opening and closing, and finally footsteps through the dining room and into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway.
"I've owled Denby with instructions," he said quietly, leaning against the jamb. "May I stay a few more days until I've lined up a flat, or would it be easier if I left straight away?"
This is really happening, Daphne thought, beginning to shake as she stared at the kitchen table, focusing on the little pies she'd made so carefully. He's . . . you've . . . Julian. How are we going to tell Julian?
Suddenly, bits of meat and pastry were everywhere.
"Damn!" Daphne exclaimed, snatching up her tea towel and haphazardly attempting to clean the mess. "How stupid of me-sorry."
A soft, sympathetic chuckle came from behind her. "Honestly, I'm not sure whether that was you or me. There's a bit of stray magic in here." Draco crossed to the cupboard and pulled out a few clean towels, kneeling to wipe up the floor. "We should probably decide what we'll tell Julian. Did you instruct your solicitor to prepare a formal custody arrangement?"
Daphne suppressed the flare of anger she felt at Draco's laugh, saying, "No. I wouldn't make any decisions about our son without you." She frowned. "I trust you'll wish to share custody, but I want Julian to live here. Our divorce will be enough of an upheaval in his life without moving him."
Draco sat back on his heels and looked at her. "I had no intention of doing so, Daphne. Stability for Julian ranks above everything else. He'll have his own room wherever I end up, of course, and at the Manor, but this is the only home he's known." He wiped the last bits of pastry into a pile and Banished them as he rose to his feet and put the tea towels next to the sink.
Good, because otherwise I would have-"I'm sorry I ruined supper, and . . . as far as telling Julian, telling anyone, I haven't any idea how to go about it. You?"
Draco leaned against the counter and sighed. "No bloody idea." He caught her gaze, his mouth twisting. "You realise they publish court filings in the Prophet once a week. That's how long we've got if we want to outpace the gossip columns."
Mirroring Draco's posture by leaning against the table, Daphne smiled ruefully. "We're well-practiced at that, and we should tell Julian tomorrow-make it seem . . . like an adventure of sorts." She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing. "You know, 'Daddy's going to give you a new place to explore'-damn. I'm talking rubbish. I don't know how to make it right for him. He's used to seeing you every day. He's . . . used to having an unselfish mother. Am I wrong? Is this a mistake?"
"No," Draco said gently. "Daphne, it's all right. Hurts like hell to have it said out loud, but I don't think it's a complete surprise. Julian deserves parents who love him-he'll have that always, whether or not we're in the same house." His mouth twisted again, and he smiled faintly at her. "He'll be fine once he sorts out the details. Better than either of us, I expect."
That's probably true, Daphne thought, shyly returning Draco's smile. "He's quite the little man, isn't he?" She looked down then, uncertain. "We were good, weren't we?"
It was a foolish question, but she needed the reassurance of its answer.
I need to know that I wasn't a complete failure as a wife.
"Better than good." He watched her for a moment. "I never wanted us to be our parents, you know. Not for Julian's sake, not for our own. I don't think we were. I know we won't be as we go forward and figure out what happens next." Draco was quiet for a moment. "I hope I've been half the mate to you that you've been to me."
Daphne crossed the kitchen to gently place a kiss to one side of Draco's mouth. She breathed him in, sure it would be the last time she'd be so close to him, and said, "You've been the . . . the perfect husband, my love. Well," she corrected herself, not wishing to lie as she stepped back, "you would have been if I'd been enough for you. I'm sorry I wasn't. I tried, too."
Draco smoothed Daphne's hair back from her forehead. "It's not a matter of enough, love. We both gave everything we could towards making it all right, and yet here we are. If it were about something we could change to be exactly what each of us needs, we'd have done it." He smiled at her, a bit tentatively. "I hope we'll build something new together, if we're able. I'm not asking your promise now for what it might look like in the future, but I admit I've held back from thinking about this because I couldn't imagine what my life would look like without you in it in some way."
Daphne leaned into Draco's touch, allowing the warmth of his body to seep into her own. It was comforting. Learning to get used to being without it would be difficult, she knew that, but it was good to know that Draco didn't want a complete break from her.
"We'll just have to pick up our friendship where it left off, I suppose. We're not our parents. We can do that-and we'll always be family."
She was surprised at how calm she sounded, even as her world was falling apart. Poise, it was a deeply ingrained habit.
"Yes," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back to lean against the counter again. "I doubt the young lordling would permit anything less."
"You know he'll try to persuade us that we're wrong about this," Daphne said sadly, taking her place at the table as if it were any other evening. "We'll have to prepare ourselves for that. Our little Slytherin can be rather cunning in pursuit of his desires."
She noticed that three of the pies had escaped destruction and summoned them back to the tray.
"I'm not at all hungry now, but you should eat if you like."
"I live in constant fear that he'll Sort Ravenclaw," Draco said lightly. He took his normal place but made no move towards the tray. "They smell wonderful. Maybe later?" Looking down, he traced the grain of the tabletop with his fingertip. "What comes next? Do you want me to go elsewhere tonight and come back tomorrow so we can talk with Julian?"
I don't want you to go anywhere. "You . . . you should stay-in the guest room if you like-but you shouldn't leave. I was thinking that it would be best if you stayed until . . . the move. That way, we could take Julian to your new place together, to show him we were . . . all right." Daphne swallowed, hard. "Does that suit you?"
Draco nodded. "Thank you. That will make things easier all 'round." He sat back, fiddling with the knife at his place setting. "I'd like that, all of us going. We could set the wards together."
"Julian would like that-a chance to see magic worked," Daphne replied, as Botty popped into the kitchen and tossed an envelope on the table.
"Mistress' letter is delivered," the house elf said tartly, looking at Draco rather than Daphne, "and it is good to be seeing Master still here where he belongs."
With those damning words, Botty disappeared.
Daphne sighed and looked at Draco. "You're telling Severus."
CHARACTERS: Daphne Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Botty
PLACE: Peace Cottage
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: Complete (Written with ward_breaker.)
When he closed his eyes, Daphne knew she wasn't behind them. Making love, dutiful and thorough, that was Draco in bed now-they never just fucked anymore.
Fucking would imply passion, Daphne thought sourly, pulling the meat pies out of the oven and slamming the pan down on the kitchen table. Her stomach twisted into knots. Are you really going to do this?
She really was going to do it. She'd known the moment she'd sent Botty away with that letter to her solicitor, that letter she'd written and rewritten countless times.
It was past time she'd sent it, past time she'd asked Draco. The problem was that she didn't know how to ask.
Throwing aside her tea towel, Daphne walked slowly into the dining room where her husband was doing paperwork. She stood under the lintel and watched him, admiring the little furrow of concentration between his brows and wishing that he still focused on her with as much.
"Draco?" she asked, surprised by the unexpectedly pleasant timbre of her voice, "Has it escaped your notice that you're gay?"
He was still for a moment, the involuntary clench of hand around quill his only movement. After a minute, he put the quill down and squared it against the top of the parchment covered with diagrams, then looked up at her.
"Not entirely," he said quietly.
Daphne blinked, as much in surprise at her directness as Draco's own, and Draco got up from the table. He corked the ink bottle, then glanced at the clock.
"Julian's asleep?"
"I sang him Gran's 'special' lullaby. He'll sleep through the night. 'Not entirely', you say?"
Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Not entirely. Not entirely escaped, not entirely gay . . . ." He stopped and looked at her again. "Not entirely certain of anything except that you and Julian are my family and I love you."
Daphne's eyes burned. You will not cry, she ordered herself, wishing she had the courage to go to Draco and hold him.
She didn't. Touching him would make her cry.
"I love you. You and Julian are my life, but I think . . . you and I are going to have to redefine our family, Draco, because this," she said, sweeping an arm out as if to indicate the cottage, their marriage, everything, "this isn't working. I know you're not happy." She steeled herself. "I'm not happy."
Draco nodded. "I know. We've not laughed together, without Julian there to spark it, in a long time." He glanced at the family pictures hanging over the sideboard-a portrait Andromeda had painted of Daphne as a wedding gift, photographs of them holding the newborn Julian, more of Julian as he grew older-and then back at her. "I don't know what to do, Daphne." He spoke quietly, his voice filled with sadness.
This isn't so hard, Daphne lied to herself, sighing and sitting down at the table. "I've sent Botty off to ask my solicitor to prepare an Application for Decree of Divorcement," she whispered, keeping her eyes on her hands clasped in front of her as she was afraid of how Draco would react. "I miss your laugh, you know, and I think . . . I know that if we allow things to remain as they are," she continued, forcing herself to look at Draco, "even Julian won't be enough to prompt it."
Draco held her gaze for a long moment, the colour draining from his face. He shoved his hands roughly into his trouser pockets, then turned abruptly and walked through the archway into the living room.
Damn, Daphne thought, cursing herself for her precipitousness as she rose to follow him. "What else should I have done? Allowed us to go on miserably until we hated each other?"
When Draco didn't respond, Daphne leaned into the doorjamb and began biting a fingernail, her eyes darting about the room-lighting on everything but her husband, who was standing at the window that framed the rose garden, looking through the glass instead of at her.
"It isn't that, Daphne. I'll let Denby know to expect a letter-I don't think there's much to fight about, in terms of the arrangements." He glanced over his shoulder, then turned slowly towards her, his eyes bright as he bit at his lower lip. "I tried my best for you, love. You know that, don't you?"
Daphne's gaze slid over Draco's face to fix on a swirl of colour in the carpet. But I wasn't enough to inspire your devotion. I've never been enough for anyone, have I? The tears she'd been trying to forestall began to flow, but she made no move to wipe them away as she wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at him to answer, "Of . . . of course I do. You're right. There's nothing to fight about."
"Daphne . . . ." Draco took a half-step towards her, then stopped. Light glinted off matching tears on his face. "That wasn't meant as an excuse. Just as . . . a validation, I suppose. We married for the right reasons-I loved you then and love you now-but you're right. It isn't working anymore. I'm not sure what shifted or why, but it did."
He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to her. Always the gentleman, Daphne thought, looking at Draco but not taking the square of linen as she hugged herself more tightly. "So it did."
Draco continued to hold out the handkerchief, so Daphne relented and took it, dabbing at her eyes with it before tucking it into a pocket. She wondered why she wasn't angry.
It would make everything so much easier if I were. "Thank you," she said finally, before sighing and getting on with it. "We can sign the papers tonight when Botty returns, and I'll file them tomorrow. Then . . . then we only need wait the year, and-are you hungry?" she asked, abruptly turning towards the kitchen.
Draco didn't follow her immediately. A few sounds came from the sitting room: the thunk of a drawer, the slight creak of a window opening and closing, and finally footsteps through the dining room and into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway.
"I've owled Denby with instructions," he said quietly, leaning against the jamb. "May I stay a few more days until I've lined up a flat, or would it be easier if I left straight away?"
This is really happening, Daphne thought, beginning to shake as she stared at the kitchen table, focusing on the little pies she'd made so carefully. He's . . . you've . . . Julian. How are we going to tell Julian?
Suddenly, bits of meat and pastry were everywhere.
"Damn!" Daphne exclaimed, snatching up her tea towel and haphazardly attempting to clean the mess. "How stupid of me-sorry."
A soft, sympathetic chuckle came from behind her. "Honestly, I'm not sure whether that was you or me. There's a bit of stray magic in here." Draco crossed to the cupboard and pulled out a few clean towels, kneeling to wipe up the floor. "We should probably decide what we'll tell Julian. Did you instruct your solicitor to prepare a formal custody arrangement?"
Daphne suppressed the flare of anger she felt at Draco's laugh, saying, "No. I wouldn't make any decisions about our son without you." She frowned. "I trust you'll wish to share custody, but I want Julian to live here. Our divorce will be enough of an upheaval in his life without moving him."
Draco sat back on his heels and looked at her. "I had no intention of doing so, Daphne. Stability for Julian ranks above everything else. He'll have his own room wherever I end up, of course, and at the Manor, but this is the only home he's known." He wiped the last bits of pastry into a pile and Banished them as he rose to his feet and put the tea towels next to the sink.
Good, because otherwise I would have-"I'm sorry I ruined supper, and . . . as far as telling Julian, telling anyone, I haven't any idea how to go about it. You?"
Draco leaned against the counter and sighed. "No bloody idea." He caught her gaze, his mouth twisting. "You realise they publish court filings in the Prophet once a week. That's how long we've got if we want to outpace the gossip columns."
Mirroring Draco's posture by leaning against the table, Daphne smiled ruefully. "We're well-practiced at that, and we should tell Julian tomorrow-make it seem . . . like an adventure of sorts." She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing. "You know, 'Daddy's going to give you a new place to explore'-damn. I'm talking rubbish. I don't know how to make it right for him. He's used to seeing you every day. He's . . . used to having an unselfish mother. Am I wrong? Is this a mistake?"
"No," Draco said gently. "Daphne, it's all right. Hurts like hell to have it said out loud, but I don't think it's a complete surprise. Julian deserves parents who love him-he'll have that always, whether or not we're in the same house." His mouth twisted again, and he smiled faintly at her. "He'll be fine once he sorts out the details. Better than either of us, I expect."
That's probably true, Daphne thought, shyly returning Draco's smile. "He's quite the little man, isn't he?" She looked down then, uncertain. "We were good, weren't we?"
It was a foolish question, but she needed the reassurance of its answer.
I need to know that I wasn't a complete failure as a wife.
"Better than good." He watched her for a moment. "I never wanted us to be our parents, you know. Not for Julian's sake, not for our own. I don't think we were. I know we won't be as we go forward and figure out what happens next." Draco was quiet for a moment. "I hope I've been half the mate to you that you've been to me."
Daphne crossed the kitchen to gently place a kiss to one side of Draco's mouth. She breathed him in, sure it would be the last time she'd be so close to him, and said, "You've been the . . . the perfect husband, my love. Well," she corrected herself, not wishing to lie as she stepped back, "you would have been if I'd been enough for you. I'm sorry I wasn't. I tried, too."
Draco smoothed Daphne's hair back from her forehead. "It's not a matter of enough, love. We both gave everything we could towards making it all right, and yet here we are. If it were about something we could change to be exactly what each of us needs, we'd have done it." He smiled at her, a bit tentatively. "I hope we'll build something new together, if we're able. I'm not asking your promise now for what it might look like in the future, but I admit I've held back from thinking about this because I couldn't imagine what my life would look like without you in it in some way."
Daphne leaned into Draco's touch, allowing the warmth of his body to seep into her own. It was comforting. Learning to get used to being without it would be difficult, she knew that, but it was good to know that Draco didn't want a complete break from her.
"We'll just have to pick up our friendship where it left off, I suppose. We're not our parents. We can do that-and we'll always be family."
She was surprised at how calm she sounded, even as her world was falling apart. Poise, it was a deeply ingrained habit.
"Yes," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back to lean against the counter again. "I doubt the young lordling would permit anything less."
"You know he'll try to persuade us that we're wrong about this," Daphne said sadly, taking her place at the table as if it were any other evening. "We'll have to prepare ourselves for that. Our little Slytherin can be rather cunning in pursuit of his desires."
She noticed that three of the pies had escaped destruction and summoned them back to the tray.
"I'm not at all hungry now, but you should eat if you like."
"I live in constant fear that he'll Sort Ravenclaw," Draco said lightly. He took his normal place but made no move towards the tray. "They smell wonderful. Maybe later?" Looking down, he traced the grain of the tabletop with his fingertip. "What comes next? Do you want me to go elsewhere tonight and come back tomorrow so we can talk with Julian?"
I don't want you to go anywhere. "You . . . you should stay-in the guest room if you like-but you shouldn't leave. I was thinking that it would be best if you stayed until . . . the move. That way, we could take Julian to your new place together, to show him we were . . . all right." Daphne swallowed, hard. "Does that suit you?"
Draco nodded. "Thank you. That will make things easier all 'round." He sat back, fiddling with the knife at his place setting. "I'd like that, all of us going. We could set the wards together."
"Julian would like that-a chance to see magic worked," Daphne replied, as Botty popped into the kitchen and tossed an envelope on the table.
"Mistress' letter is delivered," the house elf said tartly, looking at Draco rather than Daphne, "and it is good to be seeing Master still here where he belongs."
With those damning words, Botty disappeared.
Daphne sighed and looked at Draco. "You're telling Severus."